The pursuit of happiness. A hell of a route 20. Most of the time running out of gas in the desert. And from time to time You just need to stop for a poor hitchhicker. Just broke up with his two-Swedish girls. Or failed to get the interview. Or just ran out of hope and money for rent.
You stop your ‘car’ and take care of those less blessed than You. Compassion. The ultimate salvation-feeling. I was taught this shall bring me happiness. Actually, I think it’s easy to feel sorry for someone. In a very egoistic way the hapless remind You of your own wealth.
So, ‘I feel so sorry for you’ it’s almost no effort to chew and spil. You are usually genuinely sorry for someone’s disgrace and uncertainty and failure. Such a reliefing feeling: Compassion! You could have been in Your hitchhiker’s shoes anytime. ANYTIME!
But what do You do when You have to say: I am so, so, so happy for You! You got married? Damn! I dated the guy in highschool.
You have been promoted? Greeaaat news! Is it only me begging for a professional miracle? OH, You lost weight? Great, again! This means I am the only one having a long-term relationship with carbs. You start a PHD? Scholarship? Paris? Wonderful! I’ll be rothening in the same place, same diplomas. You’re having a baby? Oh, c’mon! I will be suffering of Parkinson by the time I’ll have my own … You f…abulous mom! So, so sweet! Sounds familiar?
Am I the only one thinking that feeling sorry for someone is actually fun for your inner self: ‘comfoooort zone, dude, we’re doing better than this Poor man’. When You face THE Smile, thaaaaat Smile… You know, the happy-Merry-gay-jolly face announcing the ‘good news’ that will blow Your confidence away, well this is the real shit!
Being happy and optimistic for someone else when you’re crap is harder than being compassionate. You have to fight with your demons. The little red-eyed devil, envy. The trickiest msnake, frustration. That wild “scaraoțchi’ (Romanian devil) of failure. A bunch of looting devils ready to bite the happy-people and throw with misery at them. They’ll rest again when the smiling-face will be crying. It’s such a lovely, comfortable, snoozy feeling. To feel sorry. ZzzZZzzz…!
My demons are sleeping, I sent them to sleep for an endless period of time, if You know what I mean. I have put a pillow of will and self-esteem on their faces and pressed it with complacency. They still open their red-eyes and Look at me from my dark side. But now they can’t win: I am happy to be happy for other’s happiness.
When was the last time someone was really, but really happy for you?