In the middle of world’s madness, happiness makes me think of her

By David McElroy · September 20, 2020

I call my Lucy the World’s Happiest Dog. Maybe you can see why.

She’s never in a bad mood. She’s always thrilled to see me. She doesn’t care what we do — as long as she gets to spend time with me. She’s loving and gentle, but above all else, she’s happy. All the time.

I haven’t been happy for a long time. The world seems to have gone mad. My life is nothing like I want it to be. I feel as though I’ve lost control over my direction. Nothing is as I want it to be.

But tonight, I am happy. Do I need a reason to feel happy?

Maybe it’s the crisp autumn weather that’s just arrived in Birmingham this weekend. Maybe it’s the feeling of peace that comes from slowly working through deeper issues. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m happy tonight. I feel the way Lucy always acts.

And in my happiness, my thoughts turn to a woman. I’m happy enough that all I want is to share my happiness with her. Even though I can’t.

I don’t know why I feel this way tonight. Nothing has changed.

I’m still alone. I’m still way off track. I’m still seemingly lost and confused about where I’m going. I know all that. I’m not in denial.

But still, I’m sitting here alone — with the World’s Happiness Dog waiting to take a walk — and I just want to feel this happiness flow over me like waves of liquid joy. I want to pick up the phone and call someone I can’t call. I want to hear her voice. I want to see her, hold her hand, walk with her, watch a movie with her. It doesn’t matter.

I just want to share happiness with her.

I still don’t like what I know I have to do tomorrow and the next day and the next day. I’m not happy with my house and my environment. I’m unhappy with a lot of what I have allowed myself to become lately.

But in the middle of all this, I want to tell her I love her.

I still believe the world is falling apart. I still know that the economy is heading toward collapse that will devastate all of us. I know we’re closer to civil unrest in bigger ways than most people realize. Yes, I still get all this. I know it’s coming and I know I can’t stop it.

But despite all that, I’m happy right now. And my thoughts are full of her.

I can’t give you any reason for me to feel this way. It’s not rational. It’s not reasonable. I know all that. But for right now — try as I might to be logical — I’m happy.

For reasons that I don’t understand, happiness swells my heart. This happiness makes my heart bubble over with joy. It makes me feel love — more strongly than ever — and that love flows wherever it wants. And it flows to her. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.

I know all the things that normally upset me will still be there tomorrow. I know I’ll find plenty to be angry and unhappy about. I really do.

But right now, none of that matters. For now, I am happy. I’m full of love for someone who I can’t see. Can’t talk to. All I want is to share this happiness with her.

Right now, I’m happy to be alive. I’m happy that she’s alive. And I want her heart to share the happiness and love and joy that are filling my heart and overwhelming my soul.

Happiness is too powerful to experience alone. It needs to be shared — and I’m hoping she will somehow feel this magic and know that I’m sending her joy.

But for now, I’ll take a crisp evening walk with the World’s Happiness Dog.

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I’ve come to believe that some of us — including me — aren’t very good at knowing how to be happy. I don’t mean that in the sense that happy talk and positive thinking should be able to make us happy regardless of the circumstances. I mean that some of us had so much experience with being unhappy when we were young that we were trained to be unhappy — and that being happy is an unconsciously uncomfortable thing. When I look at times in my past when I should have been happy, it rarely lasted. I believe now that I found reasons to be unhappy — and caused real problems for myself — because being comfortable and happy felt so foreign to my programming. If I’m right, this means that some of us have to do more than just change our circumstances. It means we have to learn how to accept the happiness that we unconsciously fear we don’t deserve.

After I wrote last night about being happy, I thought of an old song that mirrored what I was feeling. After listening to the entire album, I found it remarkable how well the emotions of that music match my own heart at this point in my life. Bob Bennett’s “Matters of the Heart” came out while I was in college. Even after all these years, it holds up really well, and you can listen to the entire album on YouTube. The specific song which matched my feelings last night was “Madness Dancing,” but I still find every song on the album to be strong with the exception of the eighth and ninth. (The song about his parents, called “1951,” is especially poignant.) In fact, the opening and closing songs paint a picture of my heart at its best now in these lines: “A light shining in this heart of darkness, A new beginning and a miracle, Day by day the integration of the concrete and the spiritual.” It’s old music that you’ve probably never heard, but it means a lot to me.

Narcissists tend to turn their children into narcissists — and since a narcissist doesn’t realize he or she is a narcissist, there’s no bad intent. How does this happen? I watched a YouTube video over the weekend from an Australian psychologist who does a nice job of summarizing how it works. None of this is new to me, but I thought it was useful for those who haven’t spent years digging through books and articles about it. The same psychologist has an excellent summary of something which confuses a lot of people about narcissism. You’ve all seen examples of the loud, boisterous and overbearing narcissist, but what about the ones who are more introverted and vulnerable? This type is called a covert narcissist (or a vulnerable narcissist), and this is what my father was. In the first video, I strongly see myself in the ways my father treated me and in the second video, I see what my father was almost successful in making me become.

It’s National Dog Day in the U.S. and Lucy is here to remind you to go express love and appreciation to your favorite canine. Not only does your doggie friend give you love and affection, but he or she also protects your home from intruders — such as birds, squirrels, mail carriers and other undesirables who deserve to be barked at vigorously. Where would we be without that? And if you think this service is actually unnecessary, ask yourself how long it’s been since your home was the victim of a vicious squirrel attack. See? The doggie defense works. Keep barking at ’em, Lucy.

I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time over the last couple of years thinking and writing about love and connection. I’ve come to understand that this lack of love and connection is at the root of a lot of human tragedy and unhappiness, including addictions and depression. As I talked with others and researched the psychology behind the issues, I ran into the surprising fact that researchers are increasingly using psychedelic drugs to allow volunteers to have experiences which are giving them a sense of connection which they’ve lost — something that allows them to feel connected to love and God in a way they didn’t understand before — which is having dramatic effects in combating things such as depression and addictions. In this 15-minute TED talk — without an audience in the age of COVID-19 — Johns Hopkins researcher Mary Cosimano shares her experiences with guided psilocybin sessions being used to treat addiction, depression and end-of-life issues. One of her key observations is the importance of love and connection. She said that it seems love is literally part of the answer. In her role as director of guide/facilitator services for the program, Cosimano is responsible for training and supervising session facilitators.

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