As Happy As You Want to Be


I got happy today.

I laughed out loud on my bicycle as I was riding past the park on my way to work, just to my left across Lincoln Ave, the sun slanting just perceptively, its golden fingers sliding through the morning fog in the trees.

I felt something swell in my heart.



I forgot that’s one of those principles I’m suppose to be practicing.

I did a lot of writing this morning, these last two mornings, actually.

For whatever reason I have had just a few more minutes in the morning for my writing or I am getting faster at writing long hand, which is not inconceivable (I don’t think that means what you think it means) as I have been writing long hand for many years.

A decade in fact.

Longer, but truly on point for the last ten years, daily for the last eight years.

I could very well be writing faster.

I give myself a half hour in the morning and generally get three pages, college rule, no margins, which means, I write in the space that uses the margins–one side to the other, unless indenting to signify a paragraph–top to bottom.

And I have noticed that I am getting in three sometimes four pages as of late.

This is good.

I always can use a little writing.

Some inventory, not yours, is always a handy little tool for helping me out.

I could see what I needed to focus on this weekend and I got excited.


Why I can focus on me.

I am not waiting on anyone to do the things that I need to do or listen to the music I want to listen to, to eat where I want to eat and sleep when and how I want to.

Three day weekend baby.

New tattoo tomorrow.

Dinner with good friends.

Dancing into the evening.

I realized, shocking sometimes the simplest things that come to me, that I don’t need my boyfriend to love me.


I know, it’s a nice thought.

I don’t need him to be happy either.

I am loved.

And I am happy.

I don’t have to rely on anyone to make me happy, I can just be happy.

And I laughed out loud.

I am living inside a hula hoop and keeping to myself my shit.

Which is rather refreshing.

I found myself trying, I say trying because it was not a successful attempt at a wallow, not even half-heartedly, to be weird about tonight.

It’s Friday.

What am I doing?

I mean, I know what I am doing.

But I haven’t made a date with the man, what am I going to do?


I am not in high school.

I am 42.

Get on it.

Either communicate with the man who you are seeing that you want to go on a date or take care of the things that you need to do for yourself.

I went back to my question.

What would I do if I was single?

And it all fell into place.

I was going to do exactly what I had planned on doing and probably just come home and do this, blog.


Put my hands on the key board and let the story of the day out of my head and be happy with it.

I can focus on what I think I should have, dates, amour, love, passion, story book romance, flowers galore, dancing, all the fantasy trappings and movie dialogue or I can focus on the sweet man I do have and not worry about what he’s up to.

I can focus on me.

I can focus on the fact that there are ten lovely folks coming out to dinner with me to celebrate a milestone in my recovery.

I can also focus on the fifteen or so folks that are coming dancing tomorrow night.

I can focus on the love that is all around me and not worry about what I think I don’t have.

Fear of losing something I think I have.

Fear of not getting what I think I deserve.

Fear of not having enough.


I almost smacked my head with my hand when I was on my bike.

I have so very much.

In no particular order and with poor punctuation the spell checker will go mad over I have a vintage 1965 Vespa scooter, 10 years of sobriety, friends, good friends that know me and love me, my mom and my sister in my life, some closure around my relationship or lack thereof with my father, a really good job with little boys who tell me they love me, a paycheck, a shot at graduate school, an Iphone, a one speed sparkle pony of a whip, a beautiful head of hair, I mean really, I do have some nice hair, a case of vanity, hahaha, 10 beautiful pink Gerber daisies in a Mason jar in front of me, a laptop that still works–hey I’m writing this blog aren’t I?

I have so much more than that.

Good coffee in my cupboard.

Music on my stereo.

Hot tea in a mug from Hallowell, Maine.

A glowing bunny night-light from Paris.

A cozy bed to sleep in.


So much love.

I can focus on the I am not getting what I want or I can see that I have so much that more will never be the answer.

Acceptance and forgiveness.

Love and tolerance.


I don’t need anyone to be happy, I get to be happy.

So that was my choice today.

I was happy.

I dare say perhaps obnoxiously so, but it was such a good feeling to be genuine in all my interactions today.

The day went by quick.

I listened to music that made my feet happy.

I smiled.

A lot.

I saw old friends I haven’t seen in a while.

I made a small but significant announcement, much to my delight, where I had made a similar one nine years ago tonight.

I rode my bicycle home through the park and smelled the trees and clover and prayed and talked to God and realized that riding my bike, I have realized this before, but it was another little layer peeled back, that riding my bike is a spiritual endeavor, one I do alone, but am never alone for.

I got home and had mail from two dear families that both mean so much to me, one here in San Francisco and one in Wisconsin.

I opened my door and said “hello house,” and smiled.

Home and happy.

Happy to be home.




And then some more happy.

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