I am very happy

 

When you ask that British question 'How are you?' we all understand that it is a ritual question and not really an enquiry about your state of happiness or health or content. 'Not so bad' is a good middle of the road response, but we might just as well be saying 'Bonjour' or 'Salaam aleikum' and the enquiry is not intended to elicit a response. 

But in other contexts a friend who knows you well, after greeting preliminaries will sometimes ask outright: 'How are things with you?' or even, directly 'Are you happy?'. It is unusual and not very British to enquire so directly (and I really don't know how this plays in other cultures and whether it is an acceptable question there) but if someone does or did ask me that now, I would have to reply: "Yes, I am, very"

And I would have to admit that in the context of someone whose long term love of their life has died two years before (after a year of gruelling lung cancer and all that entails) and then who has been given a blood cancer diagnosis which is treatable but not curable and will be very likely fatal within ten years, that 'very' may take some explaining. I do wonder about it myself. But it is true.

Cro used to sometimes joke about my rubber heart or what she described as my 'mono-polar disorder', but she did that with humour and with an admitted pleasure that I was so naturally cheerful and glass-half-full. But it had always seemed to me for most of my life that life was like a sweetshop which you, a seven-year-old, had been allowed free range in. There always seemed to be some new pleasure to find out about, and even reading about the interesting things of the world always makes me so happy. 

And I do understand that there is a theory about your personality 'resolving to the mean', as it were, after some major negative life-event. I believe that in psychological studies of patients who have lost limbs to amputation or had an accident that leaves them paraplegic, there is a general trend that within about six months your previous psychological state and balance reasserts itself. So if you were generally cheerful before that highly negative life event, that character will likely prevail after six months or so of time has passed. And for me it is now more than six months since both Cro's death and my cancer, so maybe there is nothing to be surprised about here. 

But quite apart from 'monopolar', I have in the past actively counted my blessings, to try to understand why I generally feel so happy about life. I cannot ignore the fact that I had what seems looking back a very happy and normal and supportive childhood in a large family. It wasn't that you felt loved and loved and loved every minute of the day. It was just that you knew that at the end of the day, your parents and your siblings had your back and would shed blood for you (and not only their own). My five siblings and I would now never go more than six months without seeing all of the other five, and it is usually a lot less than that (and three of them live in the same town!), so that history and closeness gives you structure and love and support. And another often unacknowleged spin-off of having close siblings is that you cannot lie or bullshit about your past, because they all know where the bodies are buried! So you have to keep it straight and true, or they will tell you about it. And truth makes you happy.

I also, when counting my blessings, think of the partners I have had along through my life. My first marriage gave me two children who I love and who fill me with admiration and pride. And even though the pressures of life finally had us drift apart, the adventure of seeing two babies become young men was lovely and still is. I then had twenty-three years of great interest, happiness and love with Cro, after not meeting till we were in mid-life. In a way, later joy is even greater than early joy. And as with my family, it was great to know that someone had your back, completely. I have also been lucky enough by now to meet another lovely person who gives me that same feeling that the world is so much brighter and more interesting with us in each other's lives. It is funny how it is looking outwards at the world that so confirms the love that you have for each other. But the Saint-Exupery line always was true:

"Aimer, ce n’est pas se regarder l’un l’autre, c’est regarder ensemble dans la même direction"

Another thing which I know has always and continues to bring me great joy is the fact that our father gifted us the happy prize of playing music (Irish reels and jigs). So that happiness has made me many friends and given me an outlet for emotion that we all need. It improves the crack immensely, and you meet some very interesting people. 

As well as family and love and music, I would have to say that I got a lot of satisfaction from the two careers I had across my 40-odd years of working. 25 years writing and publishing dictionaries, plus 15 years of teaching were things that gave me interest and challenge in every day of work, and which stimulated my mind a lot. You never go a day in a primary school without hearing a comment from a child that really makes you think, or laugh, or both. 

So the question I asked myself at the beginning was "Why, in your circumstances, are you so happy?" I cannot believe that it is just a random trick of my brain; it feels much more like a response to a life that has had problems in it but always joy and interest and people I love (plus some very interesting people that I may not have loved but who were always very interesting). 

My late father-in-law (a professional Yorkshireman, but also a highly erudite Cambridge Professor) used to, when thinking of something he really liked, use his mother's phrase "I wouldn't swap it for a big clock!" I imagined this clock as some kind of retirement present in pride of place on a humble mantlepiece in Sheffield. 

And when I look back on life and look at life now, I have his reaction: "Life! Ooh, I wouldn't swap it for a big clock!"