On Learning Happiness

 Some years ago, my siblings and I created what we would imagine could be the titles to Mama's life story if it were to be filmed.

1. LIFE SUCKS!

2. Luluha Ako ng Dugo

3. Balang Araw, Mararamdaman Nyo Rin

4. I Have 3 Beautiful Children, 4 Adorable Grandchildren...ay, at Handsome Husband Pala. But Life Sucks Anyway!
5.The Many Angst of D

6. Survivor of Own Torments

7. I Live to Grieve

8. Why Me, Lord?

9. I'm Happy Being Unhappy

10. Disgruntled Granny, Sucking the Life of Unsuspecting Relatives 

     The titles were borne out of our frustration with having to deal with a mother who was to my mind pathologically unhappy. It all sounds really irreverent but humor was one way my siblings and I faced what was a pretty regular situation in our family.  It was the weapon we used to prevent our spirits from being weighed down too much. It took quite an effort (at least, for me) to soar away from the doldrums because unhappiness can be quite contagious. To this day, I wonder why none of us siblings ended up seeing the world in this dim light, or in psychological terms, how we managed to construe the world differently from our mother.

            In a Positive Psychology class I attended, our  discussions on Happiness validated my belief that it is how we view our life events, whether we interpret them as positive or negative, that dictates whether we experience happiness or its opposite. This much I gathered from my interactions with significant people in my life who exemplified the descriptions of people who could be considered happy or unhappy individuals. In the article by Sonja Lyubomirsky, it was stated that there are people who appear to have a “talent for happiness” in that they “see the world around them through rose-colored glasses, make out the silver lining even in misfortune, live in the present, and find joy in the little things from day to day.” Then there are people who, “even in the best of times, seem chronically unhappy, peering at the world through gray-colored spectacles, always complaining, accentuating the negative, dwelling on the downside of both the trivial and the sublime, and generally deriving little pleasure from life”.

            

            After going through the list of differences between happy and unhappy people and possible reasons for these differences, I could clearly see to where certain people in my life belonged and how living in separate subjective worlds affected the way they conducted their lives. Like watching scenes of my interactions with them, I now understood how their perception of their worlds differed in the “cognitive, judgmental, and motivational strategies” they used in making sense of their experiences. An eye-opener for me was the qualification that these operations were “largely automatically and without awareness.”

              It was also at this point that I begun to absolve myself of my almost nil record of success at trying to assuage the misery that these people periodically went through. My attempts to remind them of their blessings against the lower rate of failures and deprivations were largely unsuccessful to bring them to a state of happiness. And this led me to feel frustration, anger, and guilt for my inability to bring them to see a different point of view. Plainly stated, I could now forgive myself for these negative feelings if I could believe that there was really nothing I could do if there was no desire in them to change their perceptions.

            But looking back at our family’s experience, I would not entirely discount how life deprivations may contribute to one’s experience of happiness. I couldn’t say that using the objectivist-bottom up tradition to understand happiness is entirely useless. I still think that if Mama had the advantages of a “comfortable income, robust health, a supportive marriage, and lack of tragedy” in her life, she would have been a happier person. And this is where I guess I understand why Mama was the way she was. From her youth to her old age, deprivations, challenges, and tragedies were constantly thrown her way. Relative to how our lives have been so far, I can say we had it better than what she had.  Who can say how we would interpret life events if we had gone through what she did?

               And so when I read again the "movie titles" in the context of what I know now about happiness, I feel a tinge of regret for being harshly judgmental at that time. Maybe how I look at life differently from her, I owe to Mama. When I go back to the past I realize now that I had forgotten how her joy and celebratory spirit during successes and good times had become an inspiration for me to pursue that kind of life for myself. It was her strength to rise above tragedies that instilled that resolve in me not to drown in sorrow in the face of failures and instead turn to my blessings to lift me up.  Could it be I taught myself to be happy by using humor and gratitude as tools to help me through tough times?  If I did, am I teaching the same lessons to my children now? I hope that when they write about me in my old age, they will say they learned happiness from me.    

My husband, the HULK!

T and I watched "The Avengers" last Monday. It was one of two days that Senior Citizens in Quezon City could watch a movie for free. So after queuing in the line which was NOT for Seniors (that is another story!), we got our tickets, had a quick lunch, then settled into our seats in the movie theater.

Just when the movie trailers were ending, two senior ladies went in and occupied the two vacant seats beside me. They were engaged in a lively chat and continued in their normal tone of voice even until the movie had started. Hoping that they would quiet down after the Introduction, I kept my tongue but couldn't resist doing a "Sssssh" after a few more seconds of their kwentuhan (chatting). That didn't work and the lady beside me (In fairness, her companion was speaking in whispers) didn't seem to notice that the dialogue had begun between the characters. She was more intent on competing with that which was onscreen. Of course, we were more interested in what was happening in the movie and not about some tisimis (gossip)!

When a second shushing from me failed to silence her, my usual docile, mild-mannered, and sweet-tempered Dr. Banner-of-a-husband let out a bellowing "May balak po ba kayong manood ng sine o magkukwentuhan lang kayo. Kasi kami, gusto naming manood dito!!!" ("Do you have plans of watching the movie or do you just want to chat? As for us, we want to watch the movie!!!) I had to push him back to his seat as he seemed ready to pounce on them if they didn't stop. To my relief, the lady beside me readily apologized and quieted down. We didn't hear a sound from her or anyone else in our vicinity until the movie ended!

When I was telling the story to the kids later in the evening, T could only laugh and explained that on occassions like that, there was a need for his Inner Hulk to emerge. Yikes! Buti na lang at hindi hinamba-hambalos na parang basahan yung ale! (Good thing he didn't throw around that woman like a rag!)

Down with the Flu!

Yes, I'm sick! I'm not too sure if it's the flu because I'm not showing all the symptoms. Well, not all at once anyway. Here's a rundown of the unfolding of the ailment:

           First, started getting woozy Sunday evening. This, I attributed to a high cholesterol lunch of batchoy. 

           By Monday, woozy had progressed to dizzy - a mild attack of vertigo which prevented me from going to work.

          Tuesday, my nose started to drip more than usual. Nothing that a boxful of tissue couldn't handle. Or so I thought!

          On Wednesday, I had to force myself to go to work even if I was sneezing violently all over the place.

          Thursday,  there was very little energy left to give a lecture in class as I had also started coughing.

          Friday was spent in bed trying to fight off the virus or bacteria or whatever name the enemy goes by. 

           By Saturday morning, my nose and upper lip area were encrusted with dry, rough skin    from all the nose-blowing I had been doing. When the skin started peeling off later in the day, I thought I was on the road to recovery. I was feeling sort of okay until while taking a nap, I started getting chills. Woke up feverish and surrendered my resolve not to take  paracetamol.

         Today,  I missed my Sunday mass assignment because I woke up with a bad headache. Not the best combination with a still runny nose and cough! Hay!

It's taken me a week to accept that I am indeed sick with the flu! Mothers have a way of thinking they're invulnerable but I guess that's pretty difficult in a household with people spewing out the dreaded germs in every corner! Yes, it's an excuse to stay in bed the whole day but it doesn't seem like resting to me when I have to wipe my nose every few minutes and then feeling bleah during my waking hours!


But I hope to will this ailment away. It has overstayed its welcome! In my mind, I can see it being bamboozled by copious amounts of water, tea, fruit juice, Vitamin C, and saline solution. Then I imagine it disappearing into nothingness as my antibodies cheerfully jump up and down while chanting "Down with the flu, down with the flu!"

Romancing my Id

   As I get older, it seems that getting friendly with my Id has become less dangerous. It is not as threatening to my Ego as it used to be.I've noticed that not only am I less fearful about speaking my mind, I've also allowed my mind to speak in not so wholesome ways.

     I've allowed wicked thoughts to slip through the sturdy and unyielding barriers of yesteryears. For example, when I see people with very unattractive physical features, I think about descriptions that are definitely politically incorrect. People who fail to meet my expectations are berated with sometimes unkind words (silently, of course!) And... ehem, when I see very attractive men of every age, I imagine possible dalliances (Joke lang, T!) Then there's my ever-increasing temptation to butt in when overhearing conversations of strangers. I just have this need to correct errors, offer answers to their questions, and oh, just say anything to "enrich" what is going on!

     Yesterday, I stunned people in a fastfood after I told a distracted food server to pay attention to me. Everyone turned to my direction when I said that and I actually did not even feel embarrassed. With my sweetest smile, I explained that because he was multi-tasking while taking my order, he was getting it all wrong. I apologized, of course, saying that I was a teacher and thus, used to telling young people what to do. I told him the lesson from this was "Focus, focus, focus!" Good thing the young chap never erased that smile on his face all throughout the little scene we had!

      So I thought, "Ayan na, talagang nag take-over na ang Id ko." But then again, Freud whispered to me that I might be wrong on that. That last incident? OMG, that was probably my Superego still saying who's Boss!

       And so it seems my dear Id, while you may have found a comfortable, little spot in my thoughts and imagination, it may still be a while before you see regular action in my life! 

Rainy November 1

I am awakened by the strong rain. I remember it is  November 1. And I remember Mama and all the rainy All Saints Day we had to bear when we were young.

It begun in 1971, a few days after we had just buried Lola Ipay, who died on October 25, in Loyola Memorial Park . Before that, we had always gone to the cemeteries in San Pablo and Sta. Cruz to visit our dead. I don't ever remember that it rained during those times and having had to do anything taxing except to locate the grave site of our relatives. So when we had to spend Nov 1 that year in Loyola, we were not prepared for what would transpire.

That first time, it took us hours to get to Marikina from the corner of Katipunan, a ride that would normally take 15 minutes. I was amazed to see the serene memorial park of two weeks before transformed into what looked like picnic grounds with big tents dotting the landscape. That evening signaled the beginning of an annual ritual of 1) setting up the tent days before All Saints Day, 2) starting very early in the day but still enduring hours of travel of bumper-to-bumper traffic, then 3) lugging tables, chairs, food, flowers, and candles to the grave site. Whether rainy (and therefore, muddy) or steaming hot, we had lunch under the tent. We usually stayed until late afternoon or until we just had about enough of what was going on all around us. Surprisingly, teen-aged me longed to stay till it was dark because it seemed there appeared to be more action in the evenings. But that never happened because there was the tiresome task of bringing back all our stuff to the car and then bearing the lengthy trip home.

Mama did all that was needed to be done for this event with a passion. I don't know whether it was out of duty or love for our relatives buried there that she made sure everything was in place. Or was it so that she actually enjoyed being there, chatting with the "neighbors", having the whole family there eating food she prepared. I didn't share her enthusiasm for this family outing but had no choice in the matter, of course!

Things changed when in 1988, I had a legitimate reason to stay home. I had to breastfeed our 6-month old daughter who was too young to join everyone in Loyola. Everyone that year included our 5-year old son who managed to get lost in the crowds of thousands. He was later found exploring the sights on his own. It was that year that I decided that I would no longer go to Loyola on November 1. Instead, my family would pay our respects to our dead on November 2, All Souls Day, when traffic was lighter, crowds were sparse, and the placed looked more like a park than a circus.

Mama continued to go to Loyola on November 1 with my cousins until one year, when she was nearing her 80s, she said she preferred to join us. She had, on that day, passed on the baton of the responsibility of taking charge of the Loyola visits to me. 

Today, Mama and Papa are both buried there now and I sort of understand now why Mama was so devoted to her annual rituals. It was her way of professing of her undying love for those who lay there. I guess the tradition (with my modifications) will go on because they make sure that our ties with our loved ones will always remain. Through heat, through mud, through rain!

 

Woman-to-woman guarding

Friday evening to Sunday morning in DAP, then Sunday afternoon to Tuesday morning in Viewpoint Hotel! Goodness, I have infected my daughter with the can't-finish-a-paper-unless-I work-in-Tagaytay virus! We managed to complete most of what we set out to do thanks to long, late nights fueled by food & coffee from a nearby, friendly cafe.  I guess I should start saving up for the next one!

All I wanted was a friend. Period.

Reading the blog entry of a former student, Pau Z., I was reminded of a time I longed for a friend. Her criteria detailed what she needed and why she needed them. On top of her list was her need for human warmth. The reason? "Ang lamig kasi eh...Wahahahaha."  Then there was my favorite - "Kelangan ko din ng kakampi! Lalo na pag tama ako. Pero gusto ko din nang babatukan ako pag mali ako, pero kakampihan pa rin ako. Haha!"

I have had friends from all ages, beliefs, and walks of life. Some of my friendships had been formed only because I chose to ignore some unwritten societal rules. I am grateful for friends who have been in my life since forever. I have grieved over but have recovered from some who have chosen to leave without a word. At my age, I thought having a constant, ever-by-my-side friend shouldn't matter anymore because one learns to be self-sufficient for most needs, even emotional ones.

But then I realized that I missed having someone listen to my insane ideas and not think of them as potential material for the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of DIsorders (DSM). When I felt all ugly inside and wanted to draw blood, I realized how hard it was to to thrash the enemy all by myself. But mostly, I just wanted someone to hang out with so we could banter over "wala lang" matters.

With that aura encircling me, someone from long ago resurfaced in my life. Way back when I was young and innocent, he thought there could be a romantic possibility between the two us. As far as I was concerned, that possibility could only be described as remote. He had made his presence felt a few times in the last few years and it was always in the guise of renewing friendships. Although reminiscing about his feelings in the past occupied much of what he talked about on occasions that we met, my need for someone to fulfill the criteria above seemed louder than the ringing of warning bells. I quelled my reluctance by constantly reminding him about the grounds on which this relationship stood.

Assured that the terms of our friendship were well understood, I lost all qualms about hanging out with him a couple of times. But this proved to be one more life-changing mistake for me. What for me was just an innocent (see, there's still that word!) coffee chit-chat after a stressful day looked like a signal for him to venture once again beyond friendship. This I realized after getting into a heated discussion with him over his frank declarations of affection and attempts to display this. He was upset that I would not respect his feelings for me and could not understand why I thought they had no place in our so-called friendship .

It was hard to accept that I had been naive to believe that the rules I lived by could not be appreciated by all. Close, heterosexual friendships, while a significant part of me since my youth, were not default mode for most people. So it seems that my agreeing to hang out with him had been misunderstood as whatever he thought it was (but was not)!

I have not spoken with him since he hurled insulting remarks at me. Attempts from him to reconnect have been foiled by this now wiser woman. I'm guessing he will never change, anyway.

Have I found the friend I was seeking? Wala pa rin. But looking at my list once again,  I thought to myself, "Kaya namang gawin lahat ito ng asawa ko ah. Ba't ba ako naghahanap pa ng ibang kaibigan? But then again, after sharing this realization with some people, we came to the conclusion that ... Iba pa rin ang asawa sa kaibigan! 

And so the search continues ...

 

 

The KIWI

He knew what he wanted. He knew his physical limitation yet he circumvented this. He knocked down all the stumbling blocks in his life. He did not give up. He toiled long and hard. He shed a tear for his triumph. Not allowing the prospect of death to get in the way of his dream!

I envy the KIWI!