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Just Be Happy

Okay, I’m gonna get really real right now.

So far, my year has been shit.

It’s all personal stuff, and it runs deep, it’s gotten pretty damned heavy, and it’s taken a lot of processing and not a small amount of mourning…but yeah.

It’s been shit.

Due to this, I’ve been struggling.

Topping that, work is hectic. It’s always hectic, but it’s been hella hectic lately.

And topping that, I wanna write a million books, and I’m weeks out in preparation to write my next. I feel off when there’s a huge lag time between writing. I’m not sure how to describe it. I get antsy. My mind doesn’t know where to wander. A part of me feels lost.

But the prep has to be completed. As does the laundry. And clearing out the dishwasher. And the closet has somehow become a mess. And the filing needs to get done.

Man, just sayin’, there are times when you know the dishwasher needs emptied and you’d sooner yank that fucker out and throw it off your balcony.

You feel me?

In those times, getting in your car and having your dash computer tell you it’s time to take it in for its yearly checkup can send you over the edge. You don’t need one more thing to do. You don’t even want to do the things already on your list.

In those times, waking up and facing the morning routine—brush, floss, cleanse, serum, moisturize, feed cat, make coffee—seems like drudgery. The rut is no longer a rut. You’ve sunk so deep into it, it feels like you’ll never drag yourself out. You lie in bed and think, “I just have no interest in…the day. The whole day. I have no interest in that.”

And if you don’t watch out, this can fester. Or if one other thing layers on to what you’re dealing with emotionally, it’s like your life force is leaking out, and with it all your energy, and you can’t have that tear in the fabric of you split any wider, or it’ll all be gone.

There’ll just be…no joy in anything.

Some time ago, my sister, E and I were off somewhere, we were chatting in the car, and she told me she’d “Decided to be happy.”


I was like, “Say what?”

“That’s it,” she replied. “I’ve decided to be happy. I’m waking up every morning and making the concerted decision just to be happy.”

I asked, “Does that work?”

“I’ve been doing it a while and…yeah. Totally,” she answered.

I thought she was cracked.

I mean, you can’t just decide to be happy.

Was she high?

Now, recently, I’ve been a bit freaked at how long this funk was lasting. Sure, the hits kept coming, but, I mean, I’m a driven chick. I love life. I can make a meal of joy out of a cocktail I created.

I wasn’t finding this in myself anymore. I was spending more time on TikTok and my phone games. I was retreating into myself. And that is just not me.

On Friday, it wasn’t better, it wasn’t worse. It just was and what it was was not me.

So, as I sat at my desk feeling sorry for myself, suddenly, out of nowhere, I thought, “Fuck this noise. I’m done. I’m gonna kick my shit in gear, get out of this crazy-ass funk and just…be happy.”

I kid you not, immediately, I felt better.


It was WILD!

I don’t know why I question the wisdom of E.

I had more energy than I’d had in weeks. Maybe months. I just got on with shit. I made Izzy’s Crockpot Chicken Enchiladas (yum!) for dinner. And you better believe I made a meal of joy in the Amaretto sour I shook up for myself which included a fancy ball of ice I froze in the fancy ice molds I bought that I did not need and felt wasteful in buying—but dayum, they’re pretty and chill a good cocktail.

And the next day, I put the lid on the filing which I’ve been procrastinating on since October 2022 and it’s been mocking me in its pile of undoneness that grew every month in that time.

I ended Saturday with my to-do list being manageable. And it was no bigger or smaller than it normally is, it’s just that I looked at it from a place of momentum, not of stagnation.

I spent Sunday piddling. I deep cleaned my Crockpot. I gave myself a facial. Since I’ve been losing a wee bit of weight, I switched out my bigger jeans for the smaller ones I haven’t been able to get into since before the pandemic. I finished Midlife Vampire Hunter.

And Starla and I are heading up to the cabin next week to be in the mountains and continue prepping for the next book.

I mean, I’m starting off this week feeling like I’m inhabiting a different world.

And I am, just because I decided I was done inhabiting the one that didn’t feel good or right or…me.

Now, I’m not saying that every funk, every piece of emotional baggage, every life issue you might face can be solved by simply deciding you’re over it and it’s time to move the fuck on. Some of them, you gotta feel the feelings, face the issues and find appropriate ways of coping. And we can just say, I did that…and then I got stuck in it.

That was my problem, the big issues I was facing I made bigger by languishing in self-pity. Getting myself out wasn’t about counting my blessings, of which I have so, so many. It wasn’t about self-recrimination, which would take me into a deeper pit of despair.

It was simply about shaking it off and moving the fuck on.

So this big mope fest I’ve had going on where I’ve been licking my wounds because life is life, simple as that, life is life and sometimes it’s gonna sock it to us and suck…well, that could be over the instant I realized I was wallowing. And instead, I could just be happy.

And then I was.

Summer is here (for us in my hemisphere). The time is right. If you’re where I was for whatever reason, sit with yourself for a second, and make the decision. Your version of Crockpot Chicken Enchiladas, an Amaretto sour, a superiorly cleaned Crockpot, a good book and watching Jason Statham kick ass in The Beekeeper? Or TikTok and brooding?

If you’re where I was, I hope you make the right choice.

Rock On!

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