Some of my closest friends have always noticed that I had an air of sorrow about me. They noticed when I was overly strict and intolerant about things. They noticed when I wanted to be alone on some days yet afraid of being alone on other days. They have said I have expected too much of others. Yes, I was the one who never truly got a break. I was the shlemazl. I was the one who was subject to Murphy's Law.
My life has become a never-ending struggle for happiness. This is partially because half the problems I have are barely shared by all men my age. So many good things in my life would be chased away by periods of hard times. It was almost predictable. As soon as something good happened, I would immediately pay for it with something bad or disappointing. It came to the point when I could hardly enjoy something good because I would always wonder what price I would have to pay for it.
When I met the love of my life, I worked harder than ever to drive away that nagging voice in my head. When she graciously agreed to marry me, I had to work even harder. That voice kept saying, "What if she finds someone better? What if you say or do something so stupid that she won't love you anymore? What if? What if?"
For me, happiness is like vacuuming, ironing, and scrubbing the stove all at once to the tenth power. It is the most difficult chore I must do. Of course I want to be happy, but the more I try, the more difficult it becomes. Only my woman and my faith keep happiness from being impossible to come by.
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