My New Year’s Resolution was to be unreasonably happy, to find joy, love and peace in every moment and to live life more fully yet more simply than ever before. I’ve been meaning to write about this resolution for almost 2 months. I’m not sure why I procrastinated writing about a resolution that on the surface seems so incredibly simple, spiritual and emotional while others resolve to lose weight, work out more and generally work on their physical looks or health. My resolution seemed simple enough and very doable, all I had to do was to choose to find happiness each day. Happiness, joy and peace were the very things missing from my life for the last several years, this past year more so than the previous ones. So it only made sense that my resolution would be to work on my emotional and spiritual health.
I had no idea how hard this resolution would really be. Most days I succeed and many days I pretend to be happy, joyful and peaceful. Pretending to have these emotions many times tricks my mind into believing that I really am happy, joyful and peaceful. But some days I fail miserably, inexplicably and am abjectly sad. One night early in February was one of those times, one of those dark nights when dying seemed better than living. I spent hours of the night writing goodbyes to my loved ones. It was, of course, arduous and emotional. And in the wee hours of the dawn, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, only to awaken an hour or so later to a new day.
My guardian spirits surrounded me the next day, calling, hugging, picking me up and offering words of wisdom, love and guidance. I don’t know why some days are harder than others when each day really is the same. I don’t know why most days I can remember to laugh and some days I can’t stop crying. My dear friend Diane encouraged me to stop trying to stand against everything that life throws at me; to stop trying to move the mountain as it were. Instead, bend, let the pain and crap wash over me and envelop me because I’m not strong enough to stand against it, and the energy it takes to try to continue fighting wears me down. My therapist is fond of reminding me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel but it’s not coming AT me.
It is part of the healing process, having to go through hell and pain to get to the other side of a better life. And despite the pain, life is truly better today than it has been for years. Nearly eight weeks after the start of the new year, many have given up their yearly resolutions, but each day I reiterate and renew my resolution to be unreasonably happy, to find joy, love and peace in every moment and to live life more fully yet more simply than ever before.
In the past three weeks, I have found happiness, joy and peace in gorgeous sunrises, deer running across a field, curious horses following me as I walk, cattle inexplicably lined up in single-file, the smell of tomato plants, the taste of farm-fresh eggs from free-range chickens, the unmitigated ecstasy of my dogs when it’s time to play ball or take a walk, the joy of watching Tasha trot and run through the snow pain-free and without a limp, the sound of laughter, the hugs of loved ones, unexpected calls and notes from friends, and the knowledge that I will live happily ever after after-all.