“I just want to be happy.”

Of course you do, we all want that.

“I’m not happy.”

You have a lovely wife and two beautiful kids.

“Somehow, that just isn’t enough”

Well, what do you want?

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

Tell me. What do you want?

“Every morning, I want a big, bright, beautiful sun beaming in through my bedroom window.”

Erm…

“I want to write.”

You’d better get writing then. Oh, and move to Australia.

“I’m glad we had that talk.”

I’ll always be here if you want to talk, don’t forget that.

“I just want to be happy.”

There you go again.

At some stage in our lives, many of us will have said ‘I just want to be happy’ to someone we love and trust – a cry for help and an invitation to penetrate our plight. Many of us may have said this to ourselves behind doors and walls – the words forever suspended in our heads and the desperation kept to ourselves. For some, it’s better to keep such words locked away and not released for fear of being misconstrued, misunderstood or even mocked. We’ve all heard someone say it and we might have said it when thinking of a friend or loved one.

“I just want x to be happy.”

For many, happy seems to be achingly unattainable as it flirts, teases and brazenly brushes past us leaving just a whiff of itself if nothing else. Happy reveals its mystery and magic for a short time and illuminates our lives but then as quickly as it came, it dissolves at speed. In resignation, we accept that happy is a fleeting feeling that dissipates at will.

Happy is happy to not be constant. Happy is happy to be heartbreakingly brief.

“It is what it is, just get on with it,” said everyone at some point.

Who is responsible for our happiness? Our partner? Our friends and family? Our boss? Our children? Thomas Tuchel?

No. We are.

As a parent, my thoughts naturally turn to my children. At the moment, it’s my job to make them happy, to see them happy, to wipe away any tears and to enjoy their smiles and laughter. However, it is their responsibility to find happiness. No pressure kids. I’ll get back to my children but not before I look at myself.

My role (my duty?) is to be the provider and pillar. I provide a roof, food and anything else they need, not always what they want because there is a difference between need and want. Is that it? What about my needs? I feel trapped when falling into the belief that my own fulfilment is a luxury not afforded to me.

I have become a functional ghost in my own home. I look forward to the evenings when I can perform a ritual of survival. It begins at 6pm. To my wife and children, I’m in the kitchen cooking the evening meal. I prepare the ingredients but not before I reach out for that cold bottle of beer that’s calling out to me. That first sip is the key that turns the lock. I love it. It’s the only way I know how to transition from the man who is “stuck” to the man who can smile and make others smile and sometimes laugh. I’m suddenly miles away, drafting sentences, scenarios and scenes in my head that I’m too exhausted to put on paper. As I feed my family, my spirit starves.

I have realised that by ignoring Mr. Happy, I’m teaching my children a dangerous lesson – life is a slow march toward resentment.

I want my children to be happy and to realise that being happy is the most important thing in life. They will be of the opinion, and understandably so, that playing games on the PC and consoles and spending time on their phones makes them happy. However, in their later years, they will come to realise that true happiness comes from following your passion.

I’m sure I know why I’m not as happy as I should be. I’m not doing what makes me happy. I’m not thinking happy. I’m just here. I am where I am and who I am because I’ve never had a plan. Call it what you like – a mission or a path because it really is just that.

If I could be born again, I’d make a list of what I want in life and put BEING HAPPY at the top of it. The rest should follow.

For me, being a paid writer will be a tough and trying journey, but I’m determined to get there. I’m not doing this just for me. I’m doing this for my family because I want them to know what a happy husband and dad looks like. A frustrated and depressed me does not a good husband or father make. Nothing makes me happier than writing and I’m good at it.

I’ll find Mr. Happy. He’s in here somewhere. Mr. Happy is not driven by money. Mr. Happy wants to be a published writer. Mr. Happy wants to smile. Mr. Happy wants to laugh so much that a little bit of wee comes out of him. Mr. Happy wants his wife and children to be proud of him. Mr. Happy doesn’t deserve this. Mr. Happy is a nice guy. Mr. Happy makes up really good Dad jokes.

I saw the invisible man today. He was a shadow of his former self.

Happy makes you live longer.

If you’re stuck in a situation that makes you unhappy, unfasten the shackles and release yourself. The later you leave happiness, the harder it becomes, on everyone.

Feeling better?

“I actually am.”

Good, now go and start the second chapter of your novel about the female assassin. I loved that line that goes, ‘Busy black clouds roar, lashing their fury onto Heldon’s High Street. Traffic stops like someone’s hit the pause button at the movies’.