You know who they are, you all have them in your lives. They are the people that refuse to let you be happy. They are the people who stomp on your dreams and refuse to let you fantasize about anything better or more than what you have.
I used to have a friend who would slam me down whenever I told her about my dreams of being a writer, about traveling the world, meeting my favorite authors and artists. No matter what I wanted or dreamed for myself she somehow find a way to make me feel like crap for wanting more or needing more.
As many of you know I recently fell out with a couple of blogger friends for the same reasons. No matter what I said or did it wasn’t good enough. No matter who I complimented as a writer or an artist I was of course wrong.
One blogger in particular loves to play the victim. “Oh I got kicked out of group after group for speaking my mind.” No, love you get kicked out of writing groups because you’re mean and you’re sad…and as much as I like you as a person, I recognize you for what you are.
Have you ever had those conversations? The ones that start with you being in a really great mood and end with you wondering what you did wrong to deserve such vitriol and hatred? Yeah those conversations suck, and they leave you feeling dirty and gross and ashamed of yourself as a human being.
These conversations leave you feeling cold and isolated and alone and wondering what the hell is wrong with you.
The answer is absolutely nothing!
The answer is these people are toxic, they drain everything good about you because they have no hope, no strength and no love themselves. It would be easy to be angry at their negativity but rather than be angry I just pity them. I feel sorry that their lives are so joyless they feel the need to feed off of those around them.
The end result is that you end up being alone and miserable feeling as if you can’t do anything right, you can’t ever be happy the thing is, Happiness in of itself is a decision. You have to decide you’re going to be happy. That you are going to find one thing about yourself worth living for.
For me, it’s Whalley. Whalley was given to me by the men and women I worked with at Surrey Urban Mission Society.
I don’t often tell this story because it has such a sad beginning but here we go. I and my former best friend Roach both adopted sibling puppies. Rosie was mine and she was stunningly beautiful. With big brown eyes and the tiniest white spot under her left eye.
I was sick at home when Rosie was visiting my work place with my mom and a friend decided to drive her home for mom. Turns out Rosie saw my mom across the street in her wheelchair and jumped out of the car window to go to her. Sadly she was hit by a car instantly.
I still have Rosie’s ashes.
A few weeks later my mom called to tell me someone had dropped off a present for me. I was completely shocked to find out it was a puppy. I decided I’d spend one hour with the dog and see how we got along.
Big mistake – best mistake of my life. Turns out the men and women that I worked with loved Rosie and felt so bad when they found out she was dead, that they gathered what few pennies they had to buy Whalley from me from a homeless man who was trying to sell off Whalley’s brothers and sisters so he could return home.
Whalley was named after the city I live in, for the men and women who are homeless, who have nothing, who stacked their few dollars to replace my lost friend. This puppy, this 120 Black Lab, Rottweiler, Pitbull mix is my reason for staying alive.
When Rosie died I was devastated and heartbroken and I had just left the ex, I had nothing and no one to keep me here. Just a few days prior I’d thought that I couldn’t get happier. “All I need is my dog” I thought. And just a few days later she was gone.
My friends couldn’t understand – no one could. I was so down I was ready to kill myself, and then along came Whalley. It was I truly believe, the Universe’s way of telling me that it wasn’t yet time to give up yet.
It’s because of my desire to build Whalley a house with a backyard for him to play in, a home for him to live his last days in. It is this dog that keeps me going every single day, fighting to be happy because when I am stuck in misery so is he.
I know it’s hard, I’ve been there. I’ve been the joykiller and it left me cold and broken and alone. Today I am fighting for my happiness. I am working towards finding a counsellor, I am working towards becoming a published author – one day. I am working for my dreams and I am not going to let anyone destroy them or steal my joy.
I’ve worked hard to find a tiny slice of happiness, and while life isn’t perfect I recognize these joy killers now and I am not willing to let them feed off of me any longer. I’m not a side of beef, I am a human being, once totally and utterly broken and I am slowly beginning to put the pieces back together. I want to share this with you, my beautiful readers, I want you to share with me your experiences and I want us to rejoice in the hard work we’ve done to improve our own lives…especially if that improvement inspires others to work on themselves.
Okay enough ranting, how do you recognize the joy killers in your life? Let me know by sharing your thoughts below.
Sending you all my love,