Are You Happy?

My sister sent me a silly widget thingy the other day. Well, it brought a smile to my lips especially when my hubster started singing it while making pancakes on Saturday morning. But then hubster asked if my sis was happy. I had to respond that I didn't know. He wondered if I ever asked her, and of course, I said no. It's not in our genes to pry.

He said I should.

This is a tough call for me. My family is pretty private. Shoot, I was elevenish before we started hugging each other and that was because my SIL-to-be was from a hugging family. We weren't. We were the large family of stoic Germans led by my matriarchal mother--who still rules the roost at 88 years old. We are NOT a sharing family. We don't do feelings and emotions, which explains my inability to write emotional scenes since I avoid them at all costs!

My sis lives about 950 miles away and, though three years apart in age, we are miles apart in personality, philosophy, and life. I don't think I would ever ask her that question--I'm not close enough emotionally.

But it started me wondering. Was I happy? And I'm not simply talking in the monetary category, but overall. I have to admit that I've been blessed in my life. I worked hard to earn money before I was legal to work. I saved for college and graduated with a BS in Medical Technology, debt-free. I worked for 23 years in a career that I loved. I owned three horses, rode, trained and showed all of them. I learned to live alone. And living alone doesn't mean I was lonely--I wasn't. I was content and happy with where I was in my life. This was a lesson my Aunt Mary taught me.

You can only be happy if you are happy within yourself.

And then I met my future hubster at Oktoberfest. From across the crowded tent he saw me standing next to a girl he worked with (she's my SIL now--married to his bro). Poor guy was so toasted he thought I was tall until he got close enough to see that I was standing on a picnic table. Yes, he's 6'3" to my 5'1". :-) But we will be having our 18th wedding anniversary this June.
We traveled. Bought a house. Traveled some more to Europe. And finally had a kiddo. Quit my job and started writing. Out of everything I've experienced in my life, writing has been the most difficult journey as I climbed up the steep hill of learning the art of storytelling. I'm happy creating and writing, but the business can deflate you quicker than stomping on a balloon, and busting it with a ka-pop! I started to wonder if I was Manic-Depressive. Yeah, yeah, that not the 'politically correct' term. Get over it. It's the term I learned in Phych 101 in college and it's the term I'll always remember.

But during all of this, I experienced various forms of happiness. And even if I never publish my stories--I'll still be happy--saddened that I can't spread that joy any further than this blog, but *shrugs* that's life. I'm doing everything in my power to spread my joy and happiness, but sometimes it's out of your hands.

Do your best, improve upon your best, push your best beyond your present boundaries. And then query the snot out of it. If you don't get any bites, then write the next book.

Lather, rinse, repeat. But remember, only you can make you happy.

Write on!