What is Happiness?

I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately. I’ve been in a bit of a funk, to be honest. I’ve spent most of my adult life in healthcare, and I’ve seen a lot in that time.

Needless to say, I’ve seen some wonderful things, and I’ve seen my share of fucked-up things. The latter tends to stick with you.

Back in October, I was really in the feels. Personal relationships were changing, and I was getting older. Despite seeing death on an almost weekly basis for the better part of two decades, I don’t think it really hit me that I’m on the same trajectory as everyone else until that first presidential debate. No insult intended to anyone, but I watched in horror as a sitting president stammered and looked confused — like a man in decline. And now we seem to be watching the same thing all over again.

One way or another, we all face that same decline. We’re all on a one-way trip.

In my career, I’ve watched a lot of people die despite our best efforts. I didn’t even realize how heavy a toll it had taken on me until October, when I just felt incredibly depressed — something I hadn’t felt in years.

I was finally starting to realize that I was slowing down, that I was getting older. And I’d had some significant life changes. A long-time childhood friend dropped off the map. My relationship with my cousin was changing. And two of my best friends — my dogs, Zoey and Marley — passed. Marley to bone cancer, and Zoey to dementia, of all things. I didn’t even know dogs could get dementia until I watched it happen to her.

I try not to dwell on losing them. But it hits me at times. Those two got me through one of the toughest stretches of my life — a brutal year of graduate school. In the span of six months, I went through a divorce after an eight-year marriage, lost a close friend to suicide, and then lost others close to me the same way.

Saying that time had a profound impact on me is an understatement. Until then, I’d always been a pessimist. I think I did it as a self-protective mechanism, so I wouldn’t get disappointed.

Then the tragedies came in pairs — my friend and the end of my marriage first, within two weeks of each other; the others about six months later. I kept telling myself it could always be worse. I had my health, at least. And like Boxer in Animal Farm repeating “I will work harder,” I kept saying my own mantra: It will get better.

I had to believe that. I felt like I was in an ocean of inky-black sadness and despair, struggling just to keep my head above the waves.

I had the foresight not to drink during that time, and I found a newfound love of exercise. I don’t think I’ve ever been in better shape than I was that last year of school. I dabbled in religion — Buddhism, heavily and went to both Buddhist sermons and Church. I did anything I could that was positive and would help move me forward. And I refused to give in to the despair.

I felt it. It was a very real, constant presence. But I refused to fail.

Miraculously, I made it through.

Once I graduated, I became so focused on the moment — I just wanted to have a good time. I still do. But I realize now there’s more to it than a good meal or a good drink. I’ve been trying to understand what I can do to get the most out of even the mundane.

Jim Carrey, of all people, really caught my attention over the last six months. I’d seen clips of him babbling crazy stuff that also somehow made sense. One that stuck with me was him at some star-studded event, talking about how he wasn’t real, how “none of this mattered.” His incoherent-but-coherent rambling sent me down a YouTube rabbit hole trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

It turns out he’s a huge fan of Eckhart Tolle — specifically his book The Power of Now.

Naturally, I had to read it.

There are some real gems in there. It’s a very cerebral book. It’s actually designed so that, in certain sections, there are little icons telling you to pause and process what the passage just said.

One of my favorite quotes, of many, is this:

Time isn’t precious at all, because it is an illusion. What you perceive as precious is not time but the one point that is out of time: the Now. That is precious indeed. The more you are focused on time — past and future — the more you miss the Now, the most precious thing there is.

That one hit me like a ton of bricks. And it reminded me of what dogs innately understand, and why they’re so joyous — they are creatures of the Now. They remember the past, but they’re so intrinsically focused on the present that they live in an almost constant state of joy. Sure, dogs can have anxiety and depression too. But fundamentally, they’re here. We give them the same food and water every single day, and they’re grateful and happy for it.

I’ve been slowly working through The Power of Now, and like Kane said in Alien, “I’m collating” — processing it, digesting it, trying to understand.

Even though I’m older and a little heavier, I’m incredibly fortunate, and I’m reminded of it every day. I have a wonderful home, an engaging career that I love and that pays well, and a wonderful wife. I really got lucky with the last one. My wife is such a level-headed person. She brings a warmth and elegance to our home that I couldn’t imagine being without. She’s also hands-down the best partner I’ve ever had, and as I’ve moved through all these changes — the shifting relationships, the loss of the pups — my wife has been my bulwark. One quiet gift in all of this is that it’s let me shift my focus back home, and just be more present with her.

One of the best things about games, books, or any form of entertainment is that they’re an escape from the stresses of life. But it’s easy to go overboard. I’d felt myself playing games almost as an addiction — though also as a way to stay close to certain friends. Now that those folks are in a better place, I’ve been able to step back and be more present in my own life. As I embraced the change, I realized it was actually a good thing. I still play plenty of games. But what’s different now is that they’ve taken the backseat — to my wife, and to my life.

And you know what? That makes me happy.

To the bestest pups that ever pupped. Love you guys.

Zoey — from the first day I found her on the street as a stray puppy to 2016. She lived to be 17. I found her when I was 25; her last day was June 10th, 2025.

Marley — from the day we got him as a pup from friends who found him, to 2016. He passed away in November 2024 to bone cancer.

The whole gang, happy and healthy, September 16th, 2022. From left to right: Frankie, Roscoe, Zoey, Marley, and Marlo.