I used to act at being happy for a long time.
I didn’t know how to handle my sadness, so I just mimicked the happiness I perceived or believed was around me.
I sold myself the lie that busyness was the same as happiness.
It may not surprise you that the packaging of this untruth (as my father used to say) was unable to hold the sadness at bay.
There is always a crack. The real feeling comes seeping through. And all at once the happiness facade is like a broken window.
Now, I do have sad moments, but I have more happiness than I ever dreamed possible.
I know this is the truth for several reasons.
One of them is a simple thing. It is the look of peace on my face when I go to bed each night. As I leave the bathroom and reach for the light switch I have recently seen such serenity that I send a smile to my reflection’s heart.
I am happy. It shows.