Was she happy? For periods of every day she was happy, so she must be happy.

This was a line I read recently in a book. It jumped out at me.

How we determine our own happiness is as personal and subjective as what makes us happy.

How sadness manifests itself is also unique to each of us.

My sadness gets dumped in my left leg. My happiness in my right. I pride myself in always leading with the right. But I get desperate and begin to panic if my left leg gets heavier than my right.

Happiness spreads from my leg through my veins and settles in my stomach and feels like butterflies or a cold swim on a hot day.

But that left heavy leg is terrorism, Donald Trump and the shrill sound around him, a baby born without a mom, values shrinking so you can hardly see them anywhere, bombs, poverty, loneliness, problems I can’t solve no matter how hard I try, my children’s (ghost) dad, hearing of another marriage breaking up, feeling disconnected, a friend my age dying, road rage, heavy blind judgement, hatred fuelled by fear, lack of civility,  my dad gone, completely gone, a girl I know attacked in daylight, too many people suffering, people I love losing people they love, waste,  being disappointed in the way someone close to me is behaving. Being disappointed in the way that I am behaving.

To fill my right to compensate for the heavy left, I scavenge for and try to cultivate goodness, beauty,truth and strength.

There are times where it is a  struggle to fill that right leg. I think they call it being an adult. Damn, I seem to have late onset adulthood.

Running early in the morning these last months I could not shake the heavy leg feeling which sometimes rose into my chest. A few of those days I would  look at a patch of ground to the side and think I could lie down there (or fake a fall!) and cry really hard  and maybe empty my left leg onto the sidewalk. It might just spill out there. Wouldn’t that be simple. I look at others and wonder where they put their sadness and how they manage. You just never know.

I did not lie down on the sidewalk, even though for a minute there it looked so good   I kept going because that is what we do when the going gets tough. I dig deep, as we do. Heavy leg and all.

I also really believe my tough maybe someone else’s walk in the park. I  try to reframe the word ‘hard’ with the word ‘blessed’ before I make my luck (which I don’t actually believe in)  my life-sour.

Sometimes you just need to shut up and be quiet until you figure it out.

sitting by the dock of the bay watching the clouds roll away (plus I love this picture Charlotte took and had to share it)