Nothing is as Fun a Three-Ring Circus, Until you Fall from the Tightrope

Or, how constant change can take you away from happiness

For the first time in a while, I am happy and content.

And that makes me, well, kind of sad.

Because it’s this pondering and overthinking and turning things over and over (and over) again in my head that makes this blog possible. It’s the angsty mornings and the sleepless nights and the maybe one too many glasses of wine that makes me wake up in the morning moaning “Why?” to the universe and to shed a few tears and then journal and think and meditate until I figure out what’s going on in my head that is making me feel so sad and lonely, or even ecstatic or euphoric – and then I share that with you.

But this happiness that I have found is not ecstatic or euphoric. It’s, well, normal. It’s stable – and what an odd thing stability is after the ending of my marriage, a move, a new job, new friends, etc.

While I like it, it’s also a little weird, and to my chaos-loving mind, a little boring.

Even before the divorce, I was maybe a tad addicted to constant tumult. For several years, I was the night metro editor at The (New Orleans) Times-Picayune, and I sent reporters out to cover murders, deadly fires and car crashes. More than once, I was the one pushing midnight deadlines, and every year or so there were late-night presidential election results in the newsrooms and waiting out hurricanes sleeping in a conference room. Then, add on top of that having two children and moving through four states and 10 homes.

Yeah, you could say I liked the three-ring circus. About a decade ago a neighbor with a PhD and five children once asked me, “Why did I make things so hard on myself?”

That was a good question, and one I was unable to answer because I didn’t even see how hard I was making it on myself. Eventually it was too much and the tightrope walk failed and I was left looking up at the chaos from a new perspective.

I now understand that choosing the hard path allowed me to look anywhere but at myself, my marriage and my behaviors. In that chaos, the only thing constant was my growing unhappiness and that was the one thing my subconscious (or is it my conscious?) did not want me to see.

I won’t pick apart why I didn’t or couldn’t see this earlier in my life, but I am thankful I finally have.

Things aren’t exactly static or perfect in my life. Many probably see chaos when they look in, but I have become more stable and content within myself.

Until very recently, I was still participating in some of this chaotic narrative. As I have almost my entire life, I was filling in the lack of communication from a friend with stories that made me feel unworthy and unlovable. I was actively seeking out hints from my boss that I was not valuable. I was picking out words or phrases from my daughters that proved to me I was a bad mother.  

And then I felt that comfortable chaos and misery and I pulled it tightly around me. Ah, the familiar warmth of unlovableness.

A couple of weeks ago, someone pointed out what I was doing. I am sure other friends and therapists have made similar observations over the years, but this time, it sunk in. The words short-circuited the constant loop in my head and gave me some peace.

I know I have more work to do. I am sure there will be—probably today—something that will be said or done that could make me feel less than. But I also know it is my choice whether to pick up those words and pin them to my chest like a scarlet letter as evidence I am unworthy, or to simply walk away and let them fall on the ground and disintegrate.

I hope that I, and I hope that you, chose to walk away and into our own happiness.