I do not trust Happiness.

I have always been suspicious of Happiness, with it’s wafty, unpredictable whims. It acts the part of a social butterfly within my psyche, wandering around the room, with all my other emotions, offering charming toasts and seductive smiles.

Happiness is an emotional flirt. It has been, for me, fun when it appeared, but decidedly unfit for a long-term relationship.

Why?

Until today, I had no idea. But last night, I had a dream…

I was treading water in a dark lake. It felt good, at the moment. The resistance of the water. The buoyancy of my breath. There was no bottom to the pool. If I stopped moving, I would sink, and sink, and sink, who knows how far?

But I was working on it. And the work was working.

My head was above water, for now.

I still had strength in me to keep swimming, for now.

I was not really scared, for now.

But that effort of not sinking deep into unhappiness held my entire focus. I thought of little else but my effort, except in faintly connected implications to surviving this ordeal. Or not.

I turned around to look for something to help, in case exhaustion overcame me. Right behind me was an old wooden dock, with a ladder hanging deep into the water. Easy. Anytime I want.. it is there. Do I really need it yet? No. Not really. I do not want to wimp out. I’ve got this.

But up on shore… there was a party. Lights. Music. Laughter. All my friends. Food and drinks. Community.

And there was Happiness… making the rounds. Dishing out smiles with tantalizing beauty.

I watched with disdain. Happiness was so inconsistent. It never played by my rules or any rules that I understood. Happiness came and went without asking anyone’s permission. I could not control it, so I did not trust that it would be there when I really needed it. Somehow, I had come to prefer the constant effort of managing unhappiness, to the easy acceptance of the elusive nature of Happiness.

The water felt cold. But it was real. It was a challenge. This wet, bottomless, cool, lonely unhappiness was a place for me to prove myself. To prove my strength. My persistence. My character. If I could do this, I could show everyone…

What?

That I could endlessly tread the waters of unhappiness?

That I could survive this ordeal all alone?

That I was somehow more worthy of trust and respect than those enjoying each other’s company on shore – those who had not worked hard to earn the right to enjoy Happiness, but were up there anyway, comfortable, breathing easily, with no struggle that I could perceive?

The ladder was in front of me now. I was immersed in unhappiness, free swimming and proud. I preferred this to solid ground because there was a visible connection between my effort and my results. As long as I kept swimming, I kept breathing. That was something, right? And that obvious attribution was… better somehow?

Then I saw a friend on shore turn to look at me. He waved. I lifted a hand to wave back. Happiness appeared, there at his side, and he pointed me out. With a direct look, Happiness recognized me. A full glass was raised to me – offered really, with the most genuine smile. With respect. With understanding. With invitation.

My heart melted.

And then, it hit me.

Happiness is not a ditz.

Happiness is not shallow.

Happiness is not a psychological social butterfly.

Happiness is a breathtakingly enticing hostess, who shows up to help us connect with each other, to help us meaningfully share, to help us reveal, to help us be comfortable so that we are free to comfort others. Happiness is the catalyst for genuine love and deep meaning in our relationships. When I understood that, like all of my other emotions, the entire purpose and function of Happiness is good… I saw that I could trust it, even if I could not control it. And here, I saw that the only reason Happiness exists… is to welcome me into a loving community. And if that is its entire purpose, its function… then it is worthy of my trust. And even its absence must have meaning and purpose as well.

And my heart melted.

Strangely, I did not feel embarrassed that I was all alone, treading water in a bottomless pool of unhappiness. I did not feel embarrassed – I felt invited. When I saw the pure nature of the invitation to Happiness, it became obvious that one important person was missing from that party: me. And some stories, and some comfort, and some meaning and perspective were missing for the others who were there: mine.

I smiled now at Happiness, and without breaking eye contact, moved towards the ladder.

I emerged from the water and made my way towards my friends.

Right away, Happiness wrapped me in a huge, warm, dry towel, handed me a warm drink, and gently guided me to a group of three… and said:

“This is the one I was telling you about. I know you think you know him… but you have never heard what he is about to say to you now. I’m so glad he came, because… his story… you must hear his story.”

I looked at them, and suddenly saw the deepest parts of my own story as part of theirs, each of them was connected to it in some significant way.

And I am still right there.

We never left.

I have fallen in love with Happiness.