Many moons ago, or to be more exact, 12 moons ago, I posted an entry to my blog entitled "What do you choose...". There is a link at the bottom if you would like to read it. In that blog, I discussed the option of being happy. I decided that happiness is a choice and that it was my choice.
The other day a young man, whom I greatly respect, pointed out that being happy is a choice, and it made me reconsider my answer. He was referring to my reaction to the situation with my mother. So, am I still able to choose happy? Yes, I am. And, no I'm not.
I am happy. I love my girls. I enjoy most areas my life. I laugh easily. I find pleasure in simple things. I try to make those around me happy. But, and this is a big but, I cannot choose to be happy at all times in this situation. If I could choose happy during every one of Mom's episodes, I would not. What we witness on a daily basis is not something to be happy about. It is something to grieve. It is something to dread. It is something to abhor. My mother's condition and what it has done to my family makes me profoundly sad. It breaks my heart that my children see me in a state of despair and frustration so often. But asking me to be happy, just so those around me can always be happy, is not something that I am able to do.
While I write these words for me and my sanity, I like to think that I am shedding light on this disease for those who choose to read them. For the thousands of words that I have written, I have thousands more that go unsaid. There are some things that are too painful to write and more that are too devastating to share.. Even for me. So, yes, being happy is a choice but it is not one that I can always make.