“It’s up to the woman to make a man happy.” I was completely caught off guard when someone said that to me years ago. I wasn’t sure what a woman should do, yet that didn’t sound right.
What about the man? What is he supposed to do? Back in the day it was bring home the bacon, period. Today both partners work, now what?
There was a time when I said, “Some people aren’t meant to be happy and I’m one.” I not only said it, I believed it. I didn’t realize that horrific abuse at a very young age can set a person back.
Over the years, I came to understand that I set myself up as a victim, let others control my emotions. It goes like this…
Two people have an argument and one says, “You make me so mad.” That person is off the deep end right there; has made the other person responsible for how they feel.
No one else owns your feelings. How you feel is up to you. A good day is up to you. A good life is up to you.
There are exceptions, but they are few and far between.
It took me years to discover that you can’t chase happiness. I had to want what I had before I wanted what I didn’t have. I had to appreciate the old, worn recliner that had given me comfort for years, if not … the joy of a new one would wear off in a hurry and I would be looking for something else to bring me pleasure.
There it is; something to bring me gladness, to make me feel good. I used to believe it took someone to make me happy. Whew! What a burden to put on a person.
I saw something once, don’t know if it was on TV or in a magazine but it turned me around:
A woman woke up and sat on the edge of the bed; it seemed as if she was weary, sad. After a few moments she decided: Today I can be happy or unhappy, it’s up to me. I choose happiness.
That scene was like a thunderbolt. Happiness isn’t a new chair, a fancy house, or the person I love. I have to make me happy. Yes, I can miss someone I love, grieve for someone I lost, but being happy is my responsibility. No one else owes that to me.
A lot changed after that day. I knew if I depended on someone else to make me happy that I never would be. It starts when I wake up. I open my eyes and I’m happy that I can see, because I love to write.
I’m beyond happy with the PC my husband bought me ‘cause I used to write by hand. And that first cup of coffee, aah, lovin’ it. And there it is. It’s not what I have that makes me happy; it’s how I feel about what I have. Sooo…
Bring it on, let the joy begin.
May Your Glass Always Be Half Full