Reframing Happiness

Yesterday we went for a drive. A Saturday amidst a pandemic, as great a day as any for isolated wandering. We picked up some bao and had a picnic in the car. We made our way over to the part of the city I lived in when I first moved to Florida, with jazz radio playing in the background and the ac mercifully blowing. It brought me a kind of nostalgic peace -- like watching back a mini-movie of my life when everything felt so new and a little bit scary -- because things are new and a little bit scary now, too.

Life can still hold fun surprises though, it seems. Despite having lived in this area for half a year, I had no idea it was so close to the shore of an absolutely massive lake. We discovered it on this drive; bringing a pair of fresh eyes can uncover a lot of overlooked things. The water went so far out it almost looked like the ocean. There were noisy birds with bright red faces, we even saw a little alligator (this is still very novel to me- alligators?!). It was such a needed change of pace-- to be outside, to see new things. I felt a simple happiness, without a background of anxious thoughts, for the first time in a long time, and it got me thinking: what does my happiness look like in 2020?

Gone are the exciting times of travel and special events, the things I used to cling to looking forward to in order to get through a challenging day, week, month. Happiness, at least for me, is now on a much smaller scale. It's scrolling through the Dogspotting Society page and laughing at funny puppies (there's this chihuahua, Tina - that gets me every time). It's the fact that the increased amount of time around my cat means that she lets me cuddle her now. It's the time I spend working on my hobbies and learning not to judge myself so harshly. It's more frequent video calls with my parents across the country.

We've all been forced to sit with ourselves and do some serious reflecting. It's hard work, but I think it's important. I've had to reframe what positivity and happiness mean to me, and I have come to accept that things don't have to be grand or exciting in order to have impact. It can just be the excitement in a loved one's voice when they find an alligator egg on a walk by a lake that was always there-- you were just too busy to find it.