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Happiness is a thursday afternoon.

I totally love the idea of deciding to be happy. However in every day life happiness isn’t always something that happens, it isn’t always thrust upon you, most of the time it is a choice. Just be it.

I gladly accepted the happiness challenge to create my own happiness for a month. I knew exactly what would make me happy: 1 hour out of the house, away from responsibilities, just me and a book and a coffee shop full of strangers. Here is my one month diary of Happiness:

August 30: I know technically this is a September challenge, but I didn’t want to wait all the way to September 6th to get the ball rolling. Ms. D, my wonderful and amazing respite care, arrived at 2:20pm and I kissed GM goodbye and hightailed it to the new coffee shop down the street. Last week was the first week the place was open and it was a bit rough. I had to talk the guy through making a decaf cappuccino. Seriously- press the button that says decaf. Today the same barrista greeted me and he went to town showing off how fantastically his skill set had increased. I found a booth meant for two and slid in with my hot beverage and library book. Being a people lover I couldn’t settle in with my book until I had had enough people watching. I needed to soak in their energy, their stories, their lunch (what the heck was on that guy’s plate?!) Level of Happiness: 7
September 6: What a crazy day for a cup of coffee. It was so crazy that I never even made it to the cafe. Just before I finished my set of errands (the prelude to my coffee hour reward) I received a call from the Northeast clinic telling me that I had been matched with someone. I was going to be an egg donor! From the parking lot of the library I called my Mother, my best friends and had a good “I’m so happy I just might explode” cry. I ended up having to cancel my coffee date with myself in order to get home and get grounded. Level of Happiness: 10+, although none of those points can be attributed to coffee.

September 13: Today I made sure that the very first thing I did during my respite was to get my ass to the cafe. By now I think I might be a regular. You have no idea how pleasing it is to walk up to a counter and have some young lad inquire, “nonfat decaf cap, right?” Right. I have become one of those normal people in the world that get recognized. I am no longer an anonymous granddaughter without a witness. If a crime were committed at the cafe the guy behind the counter could tell the police that there was also a tall girl with a thick book that they could question. I was seen, noticed, counted. It made me feel so connected to the world.

I gave myself 1 hour of sipping and reading. Today was harder than ever to find a place where I could have some silence. In one corner a young group of students sat loudly drinking their crazy colored soda. In another corner a group of mothers sat with their young children. I found a corner near the front, hidden away. It was odd how I needed to be seen but then I wanted to be tucked away. It may have more to do with the events of this morning and all of the people pleasing I felt I needed to do at the clinic. People pleasing is exhausting. Level of Happiness: 5

September 22: This week was a bit crazy. My regular respite was not able to come on thursday as she was off becoming a Grandmother. I wanted to try and take my GM out for coffee and see if having some cafe time would make her happy as well but it rained almost every minute of every day of this week and traveling with someone in the wheelchair in the rain sucks ass. But Saturday the dark clouds parted and there was a bright blue sky day. I told GM that we were going to have a date and she got so excited. She even wanted to wear something special. I must admit it made me feel a bit guilty that I hadn’t done a coffee date with her before as she really got into the idea of it.

But once we were heading to the cafe I was quickly reminded that this exercise is for ME. It was exhausting to keep her amused and focused at the cafe. Halfway through our giant mugs a small group of tiny ballerinas plopped down at a table next to us. GM was in heaven smiling at the little girls. One girl came over and asked what her wheelchair was and GM replied that it was her “old person car”. I have never heard her call it that!

People went out of their way to smile at us and help us and at first I was touched. But then I was yet again reminded why I needed to have time to myself. I need to be a person that is NOT a caregiver some days. I want to blend in and just be an anonymous girl reading a book in a corner. Not some woman struggling to get her wheelchair saddled GM through a double door. Happiness Level: sliding scale between 4-6

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