Happiness is subjective

How happy are you? Dr. Oz wants to know. You know who he is, right? The doctor dude that shows up on Oprah occasionally and talks about poop and ingrown toenails and other inappropriate topics. The one who doesn't wear a t-shirt under his scrubs. Sorry, that's a personal preference but it really annoys me when a guy is walking around in a v-neck scrub top without a t-shirt under it.

OK so back to happiness. How happy are you? Dr. Oz has a couple of handy little tools to help you assess your happiness, in case the thought that you might be low on the happiness scale is keeping you up at night. Here's a sample question. You are supposed to select the number on the scale that represents your level of happiness on the "Subjective Happiness Scale"...

1. In general, I consider myself (circle one):

Not a very happy person -- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 -- A very happy person

Hmmm. I need my happiness scale to be a little more defined. Something like...

1. In general, I consider myself (circle one):

ecstatic jubilant joyful convivial cheerful perky chipper pleasant upbeat optimistic realistic disagreeable fretter bellyacher malcontent pessimistic surly curmudgeonly miserable morose

There - now you have so many more options that are far more descriptive. Dr. Oz suggests starting out his 28 day plan for happiness by spending the first week journaling about the occurrences, people or situations that make you happiest and then, well, do more of those things.

Personally I prefer to be like the Danes. Denmark is the happiest place on earth, according to an annual survey by Leicester University in England. The USA ranks a pessimistic 23rd. But why are the Danish so happy? It's cold there and it's really tiny! Survey says...the good folks from Denmark are happier because they have low expectations. Yep, they figure things will turn out badly and when things turn out well, they are delighted by the positive turn of events.

Sounds like a good plan to me. But as a backup plan, I guess I'll go make a list of things that make me happy and try to put more of those things into my day. Couldn't hurt.

Swimming in a river of happy

Went for a walk. Prayed for endorphins. Isn't that what you're supposed to get from exercise? My actual prayer went something like...

Lord, please bring on the endorphins. Pour a bucket of endorphins over me.
I want to drink a couple of gallons of happy juice. I want to sink into a tub
filled with endorphins, to slide underneath the surface and be immersed. I want
to rub endorphins all over me like I used to apply baby oil to get a tan while
sizzling in the sun during teenage summers. I want to roll in it like a pile of
these leaves that are falling from the trees. Bring it on, Lord. Bring it on!

Now I'm back home and watching Oprah. She's interviewing the police officers who shot down the killer at Ft. Hood. And now she's talking to the lady who had her face eaten off by a chimp. So jeeze. Really. I have an amazing life and I'm grateful. No really. I felt that way BEFORE Oprah. But endorphins come in handy some days. That and chocolate. And a swift kick of reality.

boo hoo

I made it home from Idabel late yesterday. Today I'm tired and cranky and ready to quit my job. But since I don't have the luxury of living without a paycheck, and since it's just a passing feeling that will be gone once I've rested up some, I won't do anything drastic. Just feeling overworked and under appreciated, probably like 99.9 percent of the working world feels at some point in any given month. Even if you do something you feel passionate about, as I do, there are just days when it doesn't seem worth the effort. Wow, do I need a nap. And some chocolate.

For me the quickest path to depression/discouragement is feeling powerless. Or maybe feeling that something is unfair. Fairness is a big issue with me, along with loyalty and transparency. But back to the powerlessness conversation. When I start to get all woe is me, I am learning to stop and ask myself where that feeling is coming from. Then if I can do something about it, I do. And usually I can do something about a situation. At the very least, I can look at it from another perspective. But very often I can change something, or shore up a boundary that has gotten out of whack, or do something just for fun or creativity to lighten up the dreary winter dullness.

So I'm off to lighten the load somehow. Wii Fit maybe? Cook a yummy and healthy dinner? Music works. I need to update my music files with some new purchases from iTunes. Thinking happy thoughts...

Spandex is my friend

Battling depression is an ongoing theme in my life, as if you didn’t already know that. I’ve discovered though that the emotion or feeling that shoves me over the cliff in the time it takes to breathe in and breathe out is feeling powerless. And I’m not powerless. It’s a nifty little trick by the enemy of our souls. Whatever the circumstance that tempts me to wrap myself in my well-used, comfy victim sweater can be reacted to by shoving aside that worn, moth-eaten garment and choosing the shiny, Teflon-coated power suit. Tahdah! I’m instantly in stupid-people deflecting spandex. (Oh, didn’t I mention my power suit is silver spandex with a big pink “C” on the front? What? You just threw up in your mouth? )

Anyway, mean people suck, some people are certifiably crazy, Board members make thoughtless decisions, hard work often goes unnoticed and unappreciated, schedules get too full. But it can all just slide off me in my power suit if I choose. At least that’s the theory and today I need to believe the theory.

Speaking of certifiable, I’m so schizophrenic when it comes to my work life. I enjoy hard work. I thrive on leadership. I gain energy by creating and improving. I often seek more responsibility and greater authority. Then there are the days when all I want to do is to stay at home, create websites, write a novel, and decoupage everything in site. Seriously, how can one person be so double-minded? Please tell me you are sometimes double-minded.

Yuck

About three weeks ago I distinctly remember saying to myself - "Self, I'm in a pretty good place". And I was. My tendency toward depression was under control, there were moments and even hours or whole days where I felt quietly joyful and peaceful. I was nice. I didn't just act nice 'cause that's what nice people do. I really felt nice and didn't have to fake it. Then things got crazy and here I am, definitely not in a good place. How did that happen? Am I really not allowed to HAVE a good place? Must my place be always gray and foggy and listless? I'm a little angry at...something. It's just not clear who can be blamed. Myself seems the logical answer. I know that I have very little tolerance for stress. My job is very stressful on its own. Then add about a million other things, all good things. But it's the sheer number of "things" that breaks me - that drops me off that cliff into darkness. And that's not where I want to be and not who I want to be. Other people seem to be able to live in a world of shortages - shortage of money, time, energy, cool weather, rain, calorie-free baked goods. Why can't I? I want my good place back.