In which I need to figure out what happiness is made out of

Let me tell you a secret:

During my month working at camp this summer, I think I took my medication...twice.

And guess what?

I was fine. No, I was happy.

Let me tell you another secret:

Last week, I only took my medication twice.

And...

I was not fine. I was miserable. The world fell apart and I found myself crying about things like not being able to eat at Chick-Fil-A because I'd forgotten my debit card.

And so I've been asking myself...what made the difference? Why could I be blissfully content without my medication at camp, if I still depend on it for my happiness back at home?

There has to be something, and if I only could put my finger on it...

Maybe it was singing all day, everyday, sailor songs and whaling songs and songs about nature and songs about fish heads and songs about friends, just letting my voice ring out because that's what humans do, they sing.

Maybe it was always having opportunities to help others, or seeing the effects of my work with my own eyes. Maybe it was working with my entire body instead of just my fingers.

Maybe it was living in a redwood forest and waking up to the scream of blue jays in the morning.

Or maybe it's that I was in love...with the forest, with the songs and the games, with the people at camp...with a person at camp.

Or maybe it's something I haven't put my finger on yet, something that I can recreate and incorporate into my day-to-day life now that I'm home.

Whatever it is, I'm going to figure it out. I need to figure it out.