I choose to be this

Last week, someone asked me how I was able to act happy for so long, how I was able to keep everyone fooled. My answer was simple: it wasn't an act, and I wasn't fooling anyone.

For as long as I can remember, my mantra has been to "choose joy". I remember two specific instances where I made that conscious choice. (There were many more than two, but I'm remembering two for the purpose of this blog.)

I hated 7th grade. It was the most miserable year of my entire childhood. I was a shy kid (no, really!), so the transition from elementary school to junior high was a tough one. Suddenly, the friends I'd spent 6 years with were scattered and blended with kids from 5 other schools. I had no friends in my classes. It seemed to my pre-teen self that everyone had the same schedule except me, and I was alone in a sea of strangers who all knew each other. I became more a wallflower than ever, was afraid to speak up in class, didn't try out for roles in my drama class, tried to blend in to the background in the cafeteria. I was miserable. That next summer, I decided that life was gonna suck if I didn't change my outlook. I decided to choose joy. I decided to make 8th grade fun. I decided to seek out and make friends. I reinvented myself. All of the people who wrote in my high school year books "Stay crazy"? Yeah. That crazy girl they knew and loved was born in the 8th grade. It changed my life, that decision. It took courage, but every day, the new me realized that the new me was actually the real me. I was born to be gregarious, engaging, fun, creative, a leader, and yes, loud. And joyful. I was born to choose joy!

About 15 years ago, something happened in my marriage that broke my heart. It wasn't one of the episodes of betrayal, but it was heart-breaking just the same. In the days following it, I made the choice again. I decided that sometimes, marriage sucks. It's hard. It's the hardest thing I've ever done - and most people would agree that it's the hardest thing they've ever done, too. I realized  then that marriage isn't only about the "for better". It's also about the "for worse", and I had just experienced some Worse. (You know on your wedding day and in the courtship leading to that day, you never even think about the Worse. Because the Worse will never apply to you.) "This is my lot," I thought. "So I've married a man who can't give me what I need, and doesn't want to understand why I need it. Okay. That hurts. But it is what it is, and if I can't change it, I can at least accept it and decide to not let it ruin me. I will choose to be joyful anyway."

Choosing joy over sorrow or anger or revenge isn't the same as refusing to acknowledge the sorrow and anger. It IS a decision to not let the sorrow and anger own you and guide you. I've certainly let myself be controlled by anger and sorrow. I've called Darren an asshole more times than I can count. In fact, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the very reason I've called him an asshole is because I knew it would hurt him.
You know what's crazy, though? I have not called him any names since this whole thing began in December. I'm telling you - that's God IN me, because it's certainly not me by myself. The me-in-control would've chunked his laptop across the yard (done that), called him an asshole (done that), dramatically ripped a photo of us in half (yep), screamed like a banshee (uh-huh), run crying from the room, (oh yeah), jumped out of the moving car because I couldn't stand to be in the same air space with him for another nanosecond (true story), slammed a door and if it didn't rattle the windows hard enough, slammed it again. You get the picture.
I've acted a fool many, many times. But the undercurrent of my life has always been "Choose Joy". Joy always wins. ALWAYS. Anger, sorrow, revenge, bitterness... those things have their place. Sometimes, you have to allow yourself to feel them in order to process through the event that brought them on. I'm not saying you shouldn't feel them. I'm all about authenticity. But if you wallow there... if *I* wallow there... I might as well lay down and die, because it is death. I choose life. I choose joy.

For the most part, our 21 years of marriage was blissfully happy. Sure, there were times when he did things that ripped my heart from my chest. There were times when he didn't like me and wondered what he ever saw in me. There were days when listening to him eat cereal was enough to make me curl my lip, raise one eyebrow and wonder where I could get my hands on some arsenic. But those days added to about 30 per year, I'd guess. The other 335 days? Happy. Joyful. Because that was the choice I made.

I'd make it again.
I choose joy.
Sometimes I have to choose it every 30 seconds because that's how fast I lose sight of it, but I choose it. That's not fake. That's as real as it gets.