Treading water

I have a lot in common with Eeyore, that aptly colored blue donkey from Winnie the Pooh who manages to see the dark cloud in every silver lining. I have a hard time seeing the glass half full. In fact, if you point out the glass, I might notice, first, that you set it too darn close to the edge of the table and it'll probably fall before I get a chance to drink the water anyway.

I hear all the time that happiness is a choice. I have chosen it, picked it up and put it into my shopping-cart-of-life, but every time I look away, it winds up back on the shelf. I am the emotional fat girl that signs up for weight watchers, or in this case, mood watchers, over and over, only to find myself a short time later with a pocket full of Twinkey wrappers and wet Kleenex's, wondering how I wound up here again.

The other day my nephew and I hit upon a discovery. Neither of us can tread water. We can kick and flail and still barely keep our noses above the water's surface. He chimes in, "If I just let go, I eventually float... 3 feet under the surface." I know how he feels. I am that weird lady at the YMCA that scares the lifeguard and makes the other swimmers in my lane dry off early. Now, I have had the experience of floating. When I am pregnant, I bob like a cork. It is effortless, and I calmly, gently glide through the water, my smiling face well above my buoyant breasts. It is heaven. But it is not my norm.

I wonder if some people just float better than others... that happy-float that keeps them up when others would sink. I am not saying that they don't get down, or that they don't have to choose to be happy, but just maybe they don't have to flail to keep their face out of the deep end of the emotional pool.

I'll keep trying. I'll meditate, I'll write affirmations on note cards, be grateful, take my vitamins, take deep breaths and count to ten. I'll memorize quotes from the Dhali Lama and Ghandi, and maybe even Chiken Soup for the Soul. I'll smile so that my brain will release endorphins, I'll pray and read the bible. I'll go to that proverbial market and choose happiness off the shelf, and next week I'll do it all over again.

And at the end of the day if I find my glass is half full, I guess if I get thirsty I can always drink a mouth full of pool water.