Really fucking happy
This felt daring for me to admit, the first time I realized it: I want to be really, really fucking happy.
Not kinda happy. Not just as happy as everyone else. Not content. Not as happy as one can reasonably expect to be.
I want to be Really Fucking Happy.
I spent a lot of time with Micron pens this summer, doodling and writing out what I meant by that.
I started crafting the Theory of Really Fucking Happy. It’s always up for refinement, but so far, it goes like this:
Avoiding the Shit Emotions is exhausting. Accept that they are there.
Cry it out, scream it out–just not onto other people.
Breathe it out, work it out–all day, every day.
Fuck “being realistic” about your happiness.
Prioritize the state of Really Fucking Happy.
Breaking Down Really Fucking Happy
Avoiding the Shit Emotions is exhausting. Accept that they are there. When this hit me, I was all, “Duh, Kate.” My entire proposition surrounding fear is that you’ll never be “fearless,” so why exhaust yourself by trying? Accept the fear. On that note, instead of pouring energy into trying to not feel the Shit Emotions, not feel the anger, not feel the sadness, not feel the frustration, not feel the discontent–accept the feelings. Trying to avoid them, and shaming ourselves when we have them, makes us miserable.
Cry it out, scream it out–just not onto other people. We need something to do with the Shit Emotions. So cry when you need to cry. Scream when you need to scream. Just don’t make other people your emotional dumping ground. This might mean making an appointment with yourself to be alone in your house so that you can drop the f-bomb or scream into a pillow or cry on your bed until you get ‘em all out.
Breathe it in, work it out–all day, every day. Breathing lots, and working out (as in, exercise) are probably the two things that you can most easily do for yourself that will have you feel Really Fucking Happy. You don’t need mo’ money (or mo’ problems). You probably don’t need a better spouse, an organized home, a green juice raw foods sustainably raised organic no-sugar gluten-free diet. You just need to breathe and work out.
Fuck “being realistic” about your happiness. Like, when people tell you to be realistic about your job prospects, or what you can expect in a marriage, or when they tell you to reign in your hopes for something? Fuck that. That’s their Story about what’s possible for their lives. It doesn’t have to be yours. Yeah, we need to watch out for where our Egos turn unrestrained hope into an endless, hungry-ghost kind of striving. But most of us? Most of us hope for far too little.
Me? I want a marriage with the kind of love that leaves God speechless. I want a career that is emotionally and financially lucrative. I want to be Really Fucking Happy, all day every day.
If you’re going to want something, why not want this?
Prioritize the state of Really Fucking Happy. Ah, this one. I arrived at this one when I realized that I, that we, can so often tell ourselves all sorts of awesome stuff about living a great life, and then we don’t walk it. We don’t prioritize it. We let lack of time or lack of money get in the way. We talk about all the reasons why something isn’t possible. The truth is, if you want it badly enough, you’ll find a way to get it.
If I want to be Really Fucking Happy, badly enough, I’ll stop doing the stuff that feels lackluster, eating the stuff that feels lackluster, wearing the clothes that feel lackluster, going through the motions that feel lackluster.
I was at a workshop, once, where I was challenged to make the statement, “From this moment forward, I refuse to accept anything less than absolutely everything.”
I was embarrassed, at the time, to make such a statement (but hey, I was game, I did it), but I see how there’s an ethos there that can be embodied.
It’s an ethos that isn’t selfish. It’s an ethos that actually equips me with more capacity to give back to others. It’s an ethos that raises the vibration of the world.
Really Fucking Happy: The Book
I’m working on a book about all of this. I was going to have it debut in November 2015. Then I found that putting pressure on myself to whip out a book was leaving me way, way less than joyful on a regular basis.
So, I backed up my files and I look at them now and again, and I putter around with it when it feels Really Fucking Happy to do so.
At some point, you’ll have a book on this in your hands. Join the YCL e-letter, if you want the announcement (and some other ridiculously cool freebies that will up your joy factor).
In the meantime, feel free to adopt as your new mantra: