I get it; happiness is a lucid buzzword that has come to
mean little. It’s simultaneously dream-like and nauseating.
You want it but talking about it seems more futile than
conversations about the weather.
Sure you support it. You’re an activist for Happiness. You encourage
it in others’ lives and hope you’re a fair representation for the cause. But
the idea of being a spokesperson for it feels wildly inauthentic.
The problem is I can’t tell you what makes you happiest. Happiness
is relative and while widely understood, it’s personally defined. Maybe someone has instructed you to “find what
makes you happy” (instructions about as handy as “feel better”, when you’re
sick). So in hopes of not sounding like a broken record—I’m not going to
suggest you “find something”.
Instead, I challenge you to remember something. Remember a
time when you were genuinely happy, when you were filled with indescribable joy
that didn’t require any validation.
While you think of that moment, let me share one of mine:
Last year I graduated college. One week after accepting my hard-earned
degree, I moved to Florida to begin an internship at Walt Disney World that I
was hesitantly happy about. I was excited for this new adventure, but it
certainly wasn’t the salaried stable and respectable desk job my college career
expected of me. As part of the Disney College Program, not only was I signed up
to take even more college-level classes (through Disney), but I was going to be
making minimum wage working overnight shifts at the busiest theme park in the
world. I wasn’t sure this move was where I was supposed to be. I very
cautiously articulated my experience to those I feared wouldn’t “get it”. I
rarely posted pictures of my work-life, and I never publicly shared my
insecurity in my post-grad life. I can vividly remember the nights when my feet
hurt from unmet physical exhaustion, when I couldn’t distinguish the sweat caused
by my activity... from the native Orlando humidity in the absorption of my polyester costume*. I can remember the nights I emerged from the tunnels of
Magic Kingdom at 3am thinking “I’ve never worked this hard in my life”—which (if
you know my work ethic) speaks more to the severity and complexity of work than
my undeniably diligent efforts. I can recall many nights when I questioned my
own choice to do something so nontraditional and unpredictable in a time when I
should be confidently chartering new career goals. It was physically, mentally,
and emotionally draining—something I wouldn’t dare try to comprehensively communicate
in a single blog post. Rather I want to offer brief context to a reoccurring moment
of clarity that shattered every clouded doubt I carried.
On the days when I wasn’t dressed like Zenon’s cousin who
attends a more serious interstellar charter-school, I wore my own clothes and
did what every hard-working hourly blue-collar employee does on their days off….
visit their place of work! Of course, if
you worked at an expensive world-class
theme park with free entry (every day), I don’t know where else you’d go for equivalent
“entertainment”. While you’re anything but
a tourist, it was fun to act like one, consuming the magic like an
inexperienced visitor with your fellow Cast Member friends. Sure, you’ve covered
nearly every acre of the entire Walt Disney World Resort, but riding Space Mountain
for the 27th time sure feels like your first. Of all the rides in
all 4 theme parks on property, my all-time favorite is Expedition Everest. Perfect
for all those adrenaline-seeking explorers who want all the glory of reaching
the summit of the highest mountain on Earth without ever leaving the discomfort
of your rickety steam train car… for those that believe in the power of an
eerily-accurate (and completely baseless) animatronic Yeti… and for those that
believe flying backwards in a circular motion in the dark for a good 30 seconds
is the best time to plan your creatively cliché drop photo. Point blank—it’s my
favorite coaster and my must-do every visit to DAK (Disney’s Animal Kingdom).
Thankfully it doesn’t take much to convince your friends to ride Everest, and we’d ride it as often as we trekked to re-created Asia. As often as I rode it, something hit me every time [figuratively speaking… no, I wasn’t whacked by someone’s ill-fitting sunglasses!]—without fail. It didn’t matter I had every turn and track change practically memorized… every time I rode with my hands up, eyes wide-open, with the biggest smile on my face. Sometimes I’d scream… not of fear but of pure joy and excitement to be experiencing it with my friends. Shortly after the big drop, we’d re-enter the dark mountain to then reappear outside the mountain for a momentary wide quick-turn before re-entering the dark mountain. If the sun was still out, this turn was a quick flash of brightness I’d use to glance at my friends and their faces. While most faces were concealed behind wind-blown hair strands, I’d imagine they mirrored something like mine—huge grin, loud laughs, and the early stages of adrenaline-induced happy tears. Beneath all the screams and giggles, at this very turn, every time, the very same thought would enter my mind… “I am in love with my life”.
Thankfully it doesn’t take much to convince your friends to ride Everest, and we’d ride it as often as we trekked to re-created Asia. As often as I rode it, something hit me every time [figuratively speaking… no, I wasn’t whacked by someone’s ill-fitting sunglasses!]—without fail. It didn’t matter I had every turn and track change practically memorized… every time I rode with my hands up, eyes wide-open, with the biggest smile on my face. Sometimes I’d scream… not of fear but of pure joy and excitement to be experiencing it with my friends. Shortly after the big drop, we’d re-enter the dark mountain to then reappear outside the mountain for a momentary wide quick-turn before re-entering the dark mountain. If the sun was still out, this turn was a quick flash of brightness I’d use to glance at my friends and their faces. While most faces were concealed behind wind-blown hair strands, I’d imagine they mirrored something like mine—huge grin, loud laughs, and the early stages of adrenaline-induced happy tears. Beneath all the screams and giggles, at this very turn, every time, the very same thought would enter my mind… “I am in love with my life”.
Never consciously said or anticipated, these same words
would enter my head and sometimes I would without even thinking about it, mouth
them, mid-turn: “I am in love with my
life”.
To this day, it makes me cry when I remember those moments
because I so genuinely and vulnerably understood what it meant to be happy. I
understood that happiness could never be validated by other people. I
understood that whatever doubts I had about what I was doing with my life at
that time, were developed from pre-conceived ideas of what other people thought
was right for me. I knew in that moment that I didn’t care I was living a
non-traditional career path… that I would not trade it for the world. Because
while my fellow classmates and graduates were heading home from their 9-to-5
source of stability, I was fully living in the freedom of my unpredictable
life, riding a world-class roller coaster with some incredible people in the
place where (freakin’) dreams come true! I understood that happiness may never
be defined, but it can be realized. It can’t be planned… but it can be found.
I don’t live in Disney World anymore, and my life
has changed in many ways. My days off are not nearly as adventurous, and many nights I feel like a single rider who wishes she were in the FastPass+ lane with friends. If I'm brutally honest, I've spent many months since returning to Illinois on an entirely different kind of roller coaster... one I would never want a picture of. It has not been the smoothest ride, but remembering those really good moments can totally change my mood. I haven't memorized this track and I don't know what's to come, but I still choose to live life with my hands up, eyes
wide-open, with the biggest smile on my face, ready for the next moment when
the only words I can think to say are “I am in love with my life”.
So… have you had time to think of your moment—a moment that sparked
genuine joy?
My hope and challenge for you, is this—to know your idea of
happy. To not only know it… but OWN it. If crafting is your thing, DO IT. If shout-singing
Justin Bieber’s new single “What Do You Mean?” every time you get in the car is
your thing+, SING IT. If trying new make-up tutorials from YouTube
is your thing, ROCK IT. Know those
moments—know “your happy”.
Before you jump to concerns I begun this post with a grammatically
incorrect title: No, it’s not supposed to say “Know You’re Happy”. Happiness
isn’t a fleeting feeling that you have to be reminded to grasp tightly to. It’s
also not about assuredly convincing yourself you “are happy” in situations that
don’t presently evoke an automatic response of happiness. Happiness is realized
when you find yourself in situations that bring genuine joy.
So I challenge you to know your happy (place)—figurative or
literal, and then do everything you can to revisit it as often as possible.
Likewise, if something you are doing now is not making you happy…CHANGE IT. Choose
to realign yourself in situations that will spark those moments.
For me, this means leaving my current job to pursue a career
doing what makes me happiest. In two weeks, I will be moving to Kentucky to join
the marketing team at Studio Calico as their newest Marketing Coordinator. [Yup,
I’m serious.] I can’t wait to combine my professional interest in social media
and digital branding with my personal interest in the papercrafting industry. This
company rocks, the office is a powerhouse of uber-talented and creative women, and
I can’t wait to join the team.
Here’s to another Expedition! Bring on the challenge and the thrill; I'm ready.
And just so you all know... we're going with "rocker" hands up, chin down, and tongue out.
And just so you all know... we're going with "rocker" hands up, chin down, and tongue out.
"... CAMERA'S on the RIGHT!"
*Don’t get any ideas… ALL Disney “uniforms” are called costumes… that
literally come from the Costuming Department
+Sorry, can’t
relate. Do you really think this
song is the title track of my “Car Commute” playlist on Spotify? [Yes, yes it
is.]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If this is your first time landing on my blog, thanks for reading my mumbles!
If you enjoyed this one, I invite you to read another post, connect with me on social media (Twitter/IG: @christiespitler) ... and of course, learn more about me, here!