Is Happiness a Frill?

What if I really don’t know how to make myself happy? What if all the years of believing, for one reason or another, that my happiness is a frivolous, selfish concern because my duty outranks everything?

I am seeing Hillary swallow the bitter pill I have tasted myself. You work hard. You learn to gracefully maneuver around lesser talented males and not piss them off in the process. You get a good education. You pay your dues. You raise your kids, you raise your husband. You build a career. You suffer a lot of rejection (I’d love to know the comparison between how much rejection professional women absorb vs men) some of which you can’t figure out because it doesn’t seem to based on merit. You learn to raise money…big money. You’ve done everything in your power. You followed the plan to a T. And in the end, you are left standing with nothing.

I am thunderstruck that the Democratic Party have floated Caroline Kennedy’s name as Obama’s running mate.

So, all that duty, all that striving, all that work — does any of it translate into happiness? Did Hillary “enjoy” the process? Because it seems to me, that part of her problem was a lack of authenticity. A lack of passion. Buried in there someplace, I wonder if she really wanted it. Had she become so disconnected from her understanding of what makes her truly happy that she became plastic? And is this a common pitfall for women? Do we, over time, get so bogged down and so confused by having to jigger the system, that our energy gets wasted when we could be using it to create our own happiness? But we don’t realize it. We are too busy struggling to wedge our foot in the door to look up and realize, it’s not the right address. It doesn’t house our happiness.