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Some Days

I’ve been recording “Happiness is...” statuses—posts of daily joy—for over 10 and a half years. That’s my entire adult life. 17-years-old. 28-years-old.

Some days it’s hard to think of a single Happiness because it’s a really dark or hard day.

And some days it’s hard to think of a single Happiness because it is the best day you could possibly imagine.

On the former days, I sit. I try not to force myself to be joyful. I distract. I work on another project or go for a walk or read a chapter of a new book or listen to my favorite song. I wait until I lurch on the precipice of the final hour of the day and then I remind myself that I need this. That this matters. That surely there is something good.

On the former days, I don’t always believe it. On the former days, I wonder if it’s insincere. I look at my notes and remember that exuberant time two months ago where I jotted down some bonus joys. Maybe I’ll use one of those. I slowly walk myself back through the current day. Surely there was a moment of peace. Maybe a good meal? A good friend? A snippet of clarity or calm?

On the former days, I still write a “Happiness is..” Not because I believe everything is perfect in the world or I want to seem blissfully unaware and callous to societal ills. But because I need to. Because I committed myself to joy. Not just on the holidays or special occasions or milestone moments… but every day.


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