This week has been kind of tough. News of all shapes and sizes has come in, and none of it has been very joyous. It's hard to hear about things that cause others pain, and it's easy to lose sight of my happy.
Sometimes my happy is right in front of me. I don't even have to look for it. I close my eyes, and it's still there. I love those times. Those times are most frequent for me. I'm fortunate, and I know that. Times when my happy is hard to find are not as common, and make for a really blah rebekah.
There are millions of reasons for me to be joyous. If I counted the ways, my blog would go on for miles. I know this. I really do.
So why is it that happy can occasionally be hard to find?
My very understanding boyfriend says that funks make him appreciate the days when he feels no funk -- they even make him appreciate the days when he feels nothing at all. I know he's right.
And the search goes on.