The Downside of Being a Happy Person

Misery loves company, and I’ve always been a happy person. No wonder I was often lonely.

Even as a little girl, I was happy. I liked to explore, spin stories, and build things. I was friendly and curious, but while people were initially attracted to me, they often turned against me. I couldn’t figure out why.

As a child, I asked my mom why people didn’t like me. She told me it was because they were jealous. I didn’t understand that.

What did they have to be jealous of?

I was not rich. I was not one of the blond, pretty girls. I was not popular. I did well in school, but aside from my parents, no one really cared about that. I was not good at sports.

Then I got to college.

I became a target of several people on my floor.

Years later, I mentioned this to a school friend when we met up for dinner.

“It was because you were so happy,” he told me. “They didn’t like that.”

“That is really mean,” I said.

“It is mean,” he said. “But that is the way people are.”

For many years I tried to camouflage myself.

When I first moved to Texas, I was invited to join a group of women. I wanted to fit in. They complained a lot about their husbands. For example, they’d gripe that the men never helped around the house.

My problem?

My marriage was happy and my husband did more than his fair share of the housework. I really had nothing to complain about but if I’d said that, I would have been ostracized.

So I made up crap. It helped me fit in, but I felt dishonest and disloyal.

So I rebelled against the nonsense. I had to ask myself why I wanted to fit in with a bunch of miserable people. Besides, if I had to lie for someone to be my friend — were they worth having as a friend?

As a happy person, I have fewer friends. However, I also have minimal drama. Happy people are less likely to gossip and be petty. We’ve often endured bullying and so we’re resilient and compassionate.

The world is hard on people who don’t conform. In our miserable society, happy people don’t fit.

I’ve finally developed a thick skin, so I no longer care. I am a happy person. I’ve learned to, well, be happy with that. If mean people want to bring me down — I no longer tolerate it. Who needs the aggravation?

Drowning men will try to drag you down. You don’t have to let them.

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This post was previously published on a Few Words.

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