But in that moment as I brush my teeth, I make a choice. I
can if I wish, steer the course of my day in a happier direction, or remain
withdrawn and continue feeling sorry for myself.
In response
to a recent blog post, a friend said that she tries to “train the brain”. “Wake
up every morning and while brushing, look to the mirror and say in your mind I
am going to be happy and have a great day,” were her wise words.
I
realized that I do this to some extent each day. Not in particularly as chipper
and happy a manner as my friend. But I do stare at myself. In that moment, I
often see everything I don’t want to see. The fears, the fatigue, the sense of
overwhelm. In that early vulnerable hour, my face is incapable of masking any
emotional response to pain. Everything I may be covering up stares back at me
from the mirror.
In that moment I
make the choice to guide my day and my disposition to sunnier directions. Sometimes
I succeed. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I sustain it for longer. Sometimes I
give up.
Yes, happiness is an effort. Not in a homework kind of way,
but it is a choice. A choice we make. A choice that determines the course of
our life. It comes more naturally to some and life experiences, genes and
health all add to the equation. But countless stories of soldiers and others who
have braved difficult odds and found happiness demonstrates that we don’t have
to be born into happiness but it is something acquired by those who are
committed to it.
Perhaps, what matters is that I want to make this commitment
to happiness. That I want to make each day count. I hear this is a common
thread of thought for persons with long illnesses. People often wake up from
years of illness, feel a sense of loss for the time they have lost and want to
make each day count.
Perhaps this is exactly so for me. And I know it is not
going to be easy. But it is an effort I wish to make. And that counts.
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