It’s funny how when I’m happy I feel the need to apologize for it. I am so freaking happy. And you know what? I’m not sorry about that.

Not even a little.

But still I feel like I can’t talk about it. Not on my blog anyway. Because that would be like bragging, wouldn’t it?

The thing is, it’s so different from how I was feeling a month ago. A month ago I was seriously starting to wonder if I needed help of the men in white coats sort.

Or at least the kind that comes with happy pills and couches.

It isn’t normal to feel such deep sadness that you cry for days.

For no reason at all.

It makes me feel almost dizzy just thinking about it. It was awful.

The scary thing is, I never figured out why I was so unhappy. All I know is that I’m happy now.

I have a feeling my happiness has a lot to do with the fact that I’m working again. As “nice” as it is to lounge around all day everyday chatting on Twitter and watching my shows I felt useless and lazy. I hate feeling lazy. I consider laziness my biggest flaw.

Now, almost every day I shower, get dressed, smile and interact with humans. My clothes are fitting better even though the number on the scale hasn’t gone down. When I do spend time lazing around the house it’s a treat. There’s still a little guilt but it’s justifiable.

There’s a small undercurrent of unease that follows me around. Like a dark trickle under the surface that threatens to burst at any moment and become the next gulf spill of sadness.

I don’t ever want to go back to the dark place I was in. I also don’t want my happiness to depend on work or other outside factors that I can’t really control. I want my happiness to come from inside of me. That’s a much more elusive kind of happiness.

The good news is, unless I think about really hard I can’t tell the difference between that kind of happy and the kind I am now. I’m content to take the kind of happiness I can get for now though.

Even if there’s a chance it could disappear, it sure is wonderful while it lasts.