The Pursuit of Happiness

“You okay?” 

“Yea.”

That reply had become so second nature to her it didn’t really matter whether or not it was true. Talking about feelings wasn’t her forte, and she didn’t like it when people started asking questions. She’s come to understand that people mean well, but sometimes things are better left alone.

Alone.

That word was profound to her in so many ways. It’s been the defining part of most of her life — although she knows she’s never actually been alone. She has plenty of friends. She’s had her fair share of relationships. A social butterfly, she made connections everywhere she went, and people seemed to flock to her without any conscious effort on her part. Strangers opened up to her all the time, (sometimes becoming a little too open) even when all she had done was smile at them. Yet, when she laid in bed at night she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming emptiness. No matter how great life seemed on the surface, she never felt the joy that she’d seen others experience…at least not that she could recall. She’s heard people say that happiness is a choice. She wrestled with this thought constantly but could never quite grasp the concept. Who wouldn’t choose to be happy? Who doesn’t want to feel fulfilled? I mean yes people go through things — things that may feel unimaginably terrifying and never-ending. They experience the pain of loss. Loss of a loved one, loss of a dream, loss of something as trivial yet undeniably needed as money. But some sort of adversity is to be expected, because no one’s life is perfect. Life goes on even if we’re not ready to. People still need to get up and go to work, take care of their children, and most importantly — live their lives. Choose to remain positive and know — or at least hope — that the bad won’t last forever. But is that really choosing to be happy? Or just suppressing the sadness? “Fake it til’ you make it” she tells herself all the time, always failing miserably. Anyone with the ability to read her thoughts would probably feel sorry for her. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even last an hour in her head, wondering how someone can seem so normal — yet be so excruciatingly complicated, emotional, and maybe even a little bit crazy. 

Her problem is that her happiness has always been dependent on the people around her. Her motto is: if the people she loves are happy — then she’s happy. Her friends who are excelling in their careers and/or aspirations. That family member who is finally getting everything they worked for. That ex or crush who’s moved on or just doesn’t reciprocate the same feelings. Wanting happiness for the people she cares for regardless of where she is in her life, or how she feels. All her life she’s been a people pleaser. Never wanting to make anyone angry. Afraid to do or say anything that might make her lose those close to her. Sometimes holding on so tight she ends up losing them anyway. Willing to risk her health, her sanity — to keep others happy. Biting her tongue, swallowing her pride, and sucking it up because it’s not about her — it’s about the people around her. Because isn’t that what life is? Wanting people you love to be happy?

Her definition of love might be jaded — depending on who you ask — but her definition of happiness is definitely biased. What life has taught her about love, has somehow intertwined with her definition of happiness. 

Keep everyone happy and there will be peace. There will be no arguments, no feelings hurt, no one walking out on her. Continue to give all of herself to everyone by any means necessary, until there’s nothing left and she’s left feeling empty. Alone. Until she’s successfully avoided causing any pain, and instead has absorbed it all herself. Until she’s drained of happiness because…she has none left.

She’s become so focused on the people around her, that she’s not even sure she knows what it truly means to be happy. To be loved. To be proud of the person she is, and the woman she has become. To be happy she has people who are there for her. To have people who love her and that haven’t left her. To be happy she’s alive and to be willing to live not for other people — but for herself. 

She realizes that it’s time to allow herself to be happy. To not feel guilt or sorrow for the things she cannot control. To realize that people are human, they make mistakes, and get upset. To understand that maintaining everyone else’s happiness is not only unrealistic, but unhealthy. To know that just loving oneself should be enough happiness to last a lifetime. And learning that you can never truly be happy, until you put yourself first.

“Hey, you okay?”

Her reflection smiles back at her.

“Yea. I’ll be okay. So long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Suddenly the word alone brings on a whole new meaning. The true pursuit of happiness. And she’s okay with that.


Copyright 2019 Christiana Parisien

Mirror Mirror, On the Wall. Who is the Greatest Mother of Them All?

I used to think, “I’m gonna be different.” I am going to make something of myself, I won’t allow history to repeat itself, and most importantly I won’t end up like her. Always afraid of change and disorder. Afraid to live life to its fullest because being safe was always the more appealing option.Yet, it seems, the harder I try to be different from her, the more I realize we are the same.

Your love was everything. You never let one day go by without telling me how much you loved me. Even after getting a beating, you always said you were sorry, that you loved me, and that you just wanted me to listen. The more I grow and mature, one thing always remains the same. I love hard. When I love I’m all in. Whether it be family, friend or significant other, I want nothing more than to spread the love I have and to make sure the people I care about know how much I love them.

Stubbornness. Probably the most stubborn woman I know, you never let anything deter you from your beliefs-right or wrong. You would argue until the sun came up and would not stop until you had the last word. I’ve realized a long time ago that I am extremely hard headed. It doesn’t matter what anyone tells me, I’m going to do what I want regardless. I don’t take well to authority, and I definitely don’t like being told what to do. When I sit back and think about situations where my stubbornness took over, I can’t help but think about you, and how you’ve always been so head strong.

Simplicity. I will never forget the day you told me why you stopped wearing jewelry. I was a baby, and you were on your way to visit my Godmother in Brooklyn. It was late at night, and the only source of illumination were the street lights. You were walking from the train station with me in the stroller. A man in a ski mask came up to you and asked for your purse and jewelry. You refused. He snatched your purse and yanked your necklace off of your neck. Terrified, you got right back on the train and took us straight home. I remember as I was hearing the story, I could feel your pain, the terror, and it was like I was reliving that moment with you. For as long as I could remember you stayed makeup free (except of course for your lipstick obsession) and I would be shocked when I saw old pictures of you with a full face of makeup on. I think about how now I love being natural but always feel the need for lipstick, or lipgloss. How I don’t own much jewelry and I have my “everyday” jewelry that I might interchange once in a while. How I love everything natural and organic and stay informed on natural oils that will keep my hair and skin healthy. I remember you always complaining that my hair was kinky and getting frustrated when trying to style it. Trying out different oils- like carrot oil, to help manage the detangling and combing. I remember asking you when I was 10 if I could dye my hair, and you agreed to let me so long as it was a natural dye. At the time I was upset because I wanted a permanent color, but now I am grateful that you decided not to chemically treat my hair. My style has always been so simple yet fashionable, just like you.

Emotions. Well we both love so hard it hurts. The love you have for your children, especially for me felt stifling. Now I long for it. I remember 9/11, when they kept playing the plane crashing into the building on TV. You were crying hysterically. And I asked, “Mommy why are you crying?” And you said to me, “I am crying for all the lives lost.” I was so confused. I couldn’t understand why you were so emotional about people you’ve never even met. Now I see, your heart was so pure that the world’s tragedies were just too much to bear. I find myself getting emotional now about news stories, and I always think back to that day. I think about how my uncle- your brother, told me about how you had a mental breakdown. A depressive episode so bad that you had to be hospitalized. When your husband left you, you just couldn’t take it. I remember feeling so sad hearing this but not fully understanding. Now looking back, I can see myself in your shoes. I think back to my first love and how I went into a complete state of depression after we broke up, and an even worse depression when my ex and I broke up. What is it about you and I? What is it with our emotions? We’re so easily troubled, so ready to give all our love, completely heartbroken when we lose the ones that we love. We’re empathetic yet short-tempered. Loving yet impatient and no nonsense people. Both Libras who just want the best for those we love. More than what we want for ourselves.

I see myself in you almost everyday. Even when I’m not directly thinking about you. Even when I get upset because I feel like my memories of you are fading. And even when I think of the bad parts of my childhood. You live in my heart and soul and I could never forget you, even if I tried. I used to think being like you, or even becoming you was a bad thing. I made it my mission to be everything you’re not. But you the know the funny thing is- the harder you try not to be like your parents, is the more you realize that you’re just like them. The more I see myself in you, the scarier it becomes. There will always be that fear in the back of my head. What if I become mentally unstable? What if I push everyone away, and isolate myself to the point that all I have left is my immediate family? “What if?” is the daunting question in my mind every single day. But what if I am becoming you? A better version of you? With all of the good parts and even some of the bad? What if I’m meant to do all the things you couldn’t? Achieve all the things that you could not obtain? Be everything God intended me to be, and the person you imagine me to be?

Sometimes I miss you so much it hurts, and sometimes I’m grateful that things happened the way they did. One thing is for sure, I am no longer in denial and I’m learning to embrace what I know to be true. I am my mother’s daughter, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.


Copyright 2017 Christiana Parisien