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Serendipity Living my best life I'm possessed. I've been in this Sound of Music -esque state of mind (think Maria dancing and frolicking on top of a hill singing, “The hills are alive…” and not when she and the rest of the Von Trapp family were scuttling away from the Nazis) for quite a while now. I'm actually beginning to worry that I might be suffering from some post-existentialist trauma gone awry where you become sublimely happy instead of subliminally angry. No, I didn't take any anti-depressant (even a quadruple dose of prozac won't get me this high) nor was I abducted by beatnik peace-loving aliens. What I did was I made a life-altering decision: I wanted to be happy and so I am. It's that simple. I know some of you are probably lifting your left eyebrow (or right, suit yourself) at this very moment and mouthing sarcastic expletives in my direction. But believe me when I say that happiness only comes to those who truly, genuinely, sincerely want to be happy. And who better to say this than me, the ex-queen of sarcasm, drama, gloom, and doom? After years of being a sucker for tragedy (the Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights variety where the hero, heroine, or both, end up dead), I finally kicked the habit and went cold turkey. I have now stopped taking long, aimless, depressing drives while listening to Julia Fordham. Instead, I take “family drives” where almost always there's a destination in mind (the beach, the mall, or a fast food drive-thru) and where the only sound I hear either comes from a child's voice singing, “itsy-bitsy spider…” or from the loud-mouthed jocks of NU 107 playing some equally loud song over the radio. I have also veered away from reading and watching Kafka-inspired books and movies and have instead developed a liking for mushy, happy endings and Oprah. Yes, I admit. I have become the person I used to hate back when I used to be an “oxy-Moron” (pun intended) where the only time I was happy was when I was sad. I know I did a major paradigm shift. But who wouldn't when there's so much in this world to be happy about? I get engulfed in this warm, fuzzy, cashmere-like feeling of bliss every time I think about all the good things that life has given me. And I now live for what I call my “Xanadu/Shangri-la moments”: sharing cheese popcorn with my husband and son while watching a movie; cuddling and snuggling with them in bed on a rainy night; hearing my son, Zaki, utter poetic prose, “Mom, I wish I was a bug so I can sleep in your soft hair,” in the middle of a nasty traffic jam; fishing out a one-of-a-kind vintage designer blouse at an ukay pile; listening to Bic Runga and Dido; writing; discussing about fashion and life with my designer friends over dinner; indulging in nocturnal conversations with my best friend Aldrich usually with a platter of buttered chicken in front of us; going to Sunday mass on time; talking to my siblings over the phone even if they gripe about their lonely lives in America; looking at old photos of my parents and marveling at how they uncannily resemble FPJ and Susan Roces (honestly they do); and getting a kiss and a hug from my husband and son after a stressful, grueling day. I won't be a hypocrite and say my life is perfect. But I'm trying to live it the best way I can. I've learned from my past mistakes and I know I will be making a few more along the way. I'm not saying I've become a saint either. I'm no goody-two-shoes and never will be. Let's just say I'm now living a better version of what my life used to be and sticking to my long term plan of “being happy”. And being happy doesn't mean walking around in an ecstatic stupor or being in a perpetual state of nirvana (Kurt Cobain comes to mind, guess what happened to him). Being happy is simply trying to live your best life. Sure. I am possessed. But I'm possessed by a happy demon, no less. Life gives us choices. And I've definitely made mine. J |
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