
Ripley, Presley (in the pet stroller), and me. (Presley, being deaf since birth, has to be 100% an indoor cat for her safety. All her outside visits are strictly controlled and supervised).
Sometimes it feels as though true happiness is only fleeting, because it sort of is. Neuroscience has actually explored that certain events will lift us up, sometimes extremely high, (a graduation, a wedding, a vacation, your book hitting the New York Times Best Sellers List, an Olympic gold medal, whatever), but we all have a baseline we quite quickly go back down to.
In fact, in contrast to our recent burst of happiness, our baseline can now feel comparatively low.
Then we can understandably struggle with the fact that our burst of happiness felt so fleeting.
Understanding this mechanism helps me figure out why I do some of the things I do. When I am having a comparative “low” moment (which is most probably my baseline, it just doesn’t feel that way) following even a small high, (hey, I got a new couch, my first one in 18 years, I love it!), I struggle to make good decisions. It’s almost like I am angry that my happiness did not last very long. In fact, in those “low” moments, I don’t even trust that the happiness I felt was real…because it sure didn’t last long!
And then I want to medicate my lower emotions. Food, yes, some food will make me happy, won’t it?
But only fleetingly.
Then sometimes we truly feel lower than baseline for a valid reason.
I follow a blogger who has real health issues. Not that my own health issues are not real, but in terms of how the general public will scale things, my hEDS, mitral valve heart disease, and osteoporosis is most definitely trumped by cancer. He has CML, or chronic myeloid leukemia, which is “a type of cancer that affects the bone marrow, causing it to produce too many white blood cells. It is a slow-growing cancer, also known as chronic myelogenous leukemia, that can progress to a faster-growing acute leukemia if not treated.” And we can imagine cancer treatment for any type of cancer is beyond challenging on the human body. Maybe the treatment can be even worse than cancer, at times, at least until someone is on the other side of the treatment and is NED=no evidence of disease. But challenging health diagnoses aside, this blogger just lost his senior cat. And his post today had me just sobbing. In fact, a week ago, I could not even read his first post that announced the final goodbye to Clyde. When I saw the title of his post last week, I thought, oh god no, I just can’t. I wanted to “like” his post to support the blogger, but how do I communicate support without simply hitting the “like” button? Wordpress needs a “care” button, just like Facebook.
Anyhow, even though this blogger battles health issues that, in my opinion, exceed mine, (not that this is a competition), Clyde’s health conditions were even more challenging, in the end. I was just gutted by his story, but how loved was Clyde that his family never gave up on him.
And that reminds me not to give up on myself.
And I have to say this blogger, who self proclaims to not have been just the best English student in school, wrote this post today that spoke to the hardness of loss in a deeply meaningful way, but also written in such an eloquent way, that I could absorb the hardness while still seeing the incredible beauty of the unique life that was first lived.
(And although this is just my opinion of his words written, I know something of what I speak, you know, me having a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing, and all, just sayin’).
Thank you to all the storytellers out there (aka bloggers) who adrift in the sea of YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok reels and shorts, still feel called to put down words on the page. And deeply touch and inspire their fellow man.















