Velveeta Fortune

You know me, I don't believe in meant-to-be, but I do believe in irony, and coincidence.

Let's preface this by saying, life has been tough lately, not normal tough, but tough with a capital T that rhymes with P that stand for Pseudomonas.

So like all beginnings to a story with irony or coincidence, I'm sitting in a Chinese restaurant slurping hot and sour soup and reading a book called "Stumbling on Happiness," by Daniel Gilbert. The author is explaining how these conjoined twins Lori and Reba swear by their happiness and confess they would never want to be separated. The author says that most "normal singleton" people when hearing of conjoined happiness, justify it by stating, ---Oh, they only say they're happy because they don't know any other way, or ---They're not really happy, they're just happy with the crap life they've been given.

We assume these woman are merely making lemonade out of conjoined lemons, or they're delusional about what happiness truly is. They've settled for Velveeta, because they've never tasted brie.

And without giving away the entire book, because you really should read it... he says, who are we to judge happiness, ours or someone else's? Maybe those conjoined twins are living a more fulfilling life -- having a partner, someone who understands exactly what it is like to be in their body, someone who has been there from day one. Isn't that what we are all looking for in life, someone who truly understands what it is like to be YOU? A person who gets it, who can finish your sentence, wipe your tears away and laugh the loudest at your jokes? They may not have a spouse or children, but they have this perfect replica, a mirror image, a friend who no matter what will never leave.

Many a year ago, I was part of the deaf community in Los Angeles. And before that I studied American Sign Language and Deaf Culture in college. One of the difficult problems my deaf friends faced was not their lack of hearing. It was their parents' inability to accept their deafness --because as hearing parents, they couldn't imagine their deaf child's happiness in a silent world. So instead of immersing them in deaf culture, and people who shared a common, visual language, parents main-streamed their kids, keeping them away from other deaf people in the hope their child would learn "how to be happy in a hearing world." Being happy in a deaf world wasn't an option. The parents assumed that deaf-happy was not the same as hearing-happy. And as you can imagine, these kids were incredibly lonely, felt misunderstood and longed for a community, where someone understood them. It's hubris isn't it? Assuming that only we "perfect ones" could understand happiness?

I haven't finished the book, but I've started thinking...

I'm jealous, green with envy of people who have healthy kids. Sometimes I think potty training and pacifier weaning and all of those 'normal' milestones that parents fret over are silly. It's hard to relate. I think, if Froggy were normal, if she'd never been diagnosed with CF or Epilepsy, if we were just dealing with these silly little frustrations, we would be happy. But because of these diseases, because of the struggles, we weren't given a fair shake at happiness. We were screwed, short-changed. What chance have we at the SAME kind of happiness our friends enjoy? With what we've been given, do we have a claim on happy? When our kiddo has hours of respiratory therapy, chronic diarrhea, when she has seizures that aren't controlled, when we are struggling financially, when we are exhausted beyond exhausted at the end of the day with our pharmacy runs, medicare calls, insurance woes, when just keeping our kiddo alive is a full-time-draining job, where is there room for happiness?

So I finish my meal at the Chinese restaurant, my garlic chicken, soup and rice and I open my fortune cookie. And it says: "Look around; happiness is trying to catch you."

I dropped my chopsticks and sit there stunned. I think "if only, if only, if only...." and that's the thing. There isn't an "if only." If only doesn't exist. And it doesn't matter. Because it's an illusion, a trick of the eye, an aberration. We don't need 'if only' to be happy. We can say if only Froggy were healthy, but it doesn't change a thing.

I'm not underestimating the sorrow of CF. I cried today hard for Froggy's lab results. Her dad and I are having a hell of a time struggling through the mucky waters of CF life. But there in the Chinese restaurant with my book and my fortune, I thought, "even with a shitty diagnosis, even with shitty lab results, even with Epilepsy, and no money, and a scary California economy, I think that in the midst of it, HAPPINESS, like a bull dog, a missile, a hug, is still trying to catch us.

I'm beginning to think that 'perfect' has absolutely nothing to do with it.

I'm not going to lie, our life is more Velveeta than Brie...but honestly, I hate Brie. That's right, it tastes like a musty basement, like an old man's dirty socks. And Velveeta, well, it's smooth and sweet, like butter, like happiness... like life. It may not cost a lot, but smear it on a Saltine and it's as good as oysters and caviar. It's just perspective. That's all. And maybe that's all you need to let go and let happiness catch you. Who knows, but I'm tired of running.