Don’t feed the trolls.

It is the first rule of blogging. Don’t engage with the haters. Don’t let them get in your head. If someone leaves you a nasty comment, you move along without reply, because they are not worth the anger, frustration and, most of all, your precious time.

I haven’t written in five months because I let someone tell me that no one cares what I write about and people who read my posts are actually laughing behind my back.

So I haven’t written, because what if they were right? What if my content has been one big joke to the Internet?

Years ago I was in an abusive relationship and I can assure you that the names he called me hurt far more than any slap in the face. No bloody wound feels as bad as being called worthless. Five months ago, that’s exactly how I felt.

Today, though, I suddenly woke up and realized that as much as I love my readers and the people who have surrounded me through blogging, I don’t write for anyone but me. If you don’t want to read these words, don’t read them. I don’t really care. Now the troll can say I’m selfish. So be it.

I am going to write again. I’m going to write because it’s my creative outlet. I’m going to write because it clears my head. I’m going to write to prove to my daughter that you can’t let someone control you through their hate. I’m going to write because I am better for it.

This is my start.

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Ain’t no party like an 85 year old’s party, ’cause an 85 year old’s party don’t stop!

*screeeeech* *dj takes the needle off the record*

Somewhere between having a boatload of fun this summer and starting my awesome new job (more on that soon but, goodnight Irene, I love it), I fractured my hip.

My doctor thought it was a pinched nerve – and in his defense, so did I – because it felt similar to a pinched nerve I had years ago. He put me on a course of steroids which, ironically, made the fracture LESS likely to heal. All of my theater friends are going to scream because I just used irony incorrectly, but I mean the situational kind and also, I just took a course of steroids so I dare you to tell me I’m doing it wrong.

When the steroids didn’t help, I thought maybe it was a tendon or something related to running, because running hurt bad. So I tried biking, which was even worse and walking hurt most of all. See, there it is again. Irony is that friend who shows up and you think you’ve missed him because he keeps you on your toes and makes life interesting, but a few days later he’s just annoying and he kind of smells like fish.

Anyway, I tried working out the pain and working through the pain and that was just stupid. Which makes me like my friend, Irony. Though that would be a cool name and Irony doesn’t deserve to be called cool. Remember when George on Seinfeld wanted to name his kid “Seven?” That would’ve been a cool name, except it makes me think about Brad Pitt’s wife and her severed head in a box. Other than that? Super cool name.

Finally, my trainer recommended I see a sports medicine doctor, so I got a referral and x-rays and now I can’t really do anything for 4-6 weeks other than expand my waistline. The other option is to go ahead and do stuff and risk breaking my hip and needing a hip replacement at 44 years old. I can exercise my upper body as long as I’m sitting, so I’ve been working on my 12 ounce curls.

The upside is that now I have more time to write. Lucky you. I had to hurt myself in order to have the time to put you through this pain. Ironic, don’t you think?

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Be happy.

That sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? It’s not.

Life has a cruel way of putting roadblocks along your path to happiness, and it doesn’t have to be a major life event, either. You plan a day at the pool with your kids, it rains. You buy ingredients for a delicious dinner with friends, everyone cancels. You get excited for an out of town trip and your car breaks down.

For the first part of my divorce journey I had to force myself to find happiness. As a matter of fact, there really wasn’t any. There were other periods of time like this in my life, too. When my son was a baby and constantly in and out of the hospital or when I’ve lost people dear to me.

The point is, those were awful times when it felt like nothing would make me happy again. I spent MONTHS of last year wailing in the shower in such pain I never thought it would end, but through a series of stages I have found myself smiling again. A lot. This is not to say life is perfect, because it isn’t. I still suffer heartbreak. I still ache sometimes. Daily, even.

I have learned, however, how to climb over the roadblocks instead of being stopped by them. Here’s how:

1. Hang out with happy people.

When you are searching for happiness, you don’t have to do it alone. Reach out to friends and family. Let them make you laugh. I have close friends who have a running joke about me sitting at their kitchen table for days on end. They would come home from work and I’d be waiting for them. That table, that family, the conversations we had; they saved me and made me happy again – even if was just for a couple of hours.

2. Read.

Read humorous books or blogs that friends recommend as laugh-out-loud funny. Join Goodreads and find the reviews that speak to you and your funny bone. This is not to say I haven’t thrown in a book or two on anxiety and co-dependency, but for the most part, I have stuck to hilarious reading material.

3. Exercise.

Hike, run, do squats in your living room. The best thing I’ve ever done for my happiness and mental health is to physically exhaust myself. Trust me. It works.

4. Take care of the little things.

Do you have a hangnail? A splinter? A nagging plantar fasciitis injury that feels like your heel is pounding itself into a rock with every step you take? Hypothetically. Get it fixed. There is nothing like a toothache or mosquito bite, or some tiny, grating, physical ailment to make you be on edge and grumpy

5. Do fun things.

This summer, I have been to concerts, amusement parks, Cirque de Soleil, and more cities than I can count. You don’t have to spend a fortune to do fun things, either. Some of the happiest times I’ve had were playing in the pool with my kids or a card game with friends. Nighttime Tackle Beach Frisbee, anyone?

6. Stop feeling guilty about your happiness.

Finding happiness can be scary. We have friends battling cancer or parents with health issues, so we feel guilty being happy. We don’t want to allow it because life isn’t fair. But, guess what? Your friends and family WANT you to smile. That will make THEM happy. Full circle bonus!

7. Allow yourself to be vulnerable.

A friend told me that her divorce has made her learn how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. I couldn’t have said it better. There is an aching emptiness that came with the loss of my marriage and it’s still there every day. I had an entire family and life that was ripped out from under me. What I lost is never far from my mind and that’s okay because it helps me put my new life in perspective and reminds me that I deserve to be happy. You don’t have to pretend the pain isn’t there.

8. But, don’t let the pain own you.

Your feelings do not define you, your actions do. If you hurt, that’s normal. If the hurt keeps you in bed all day, it’s not.

9. Find a support group.

Whether it’s in person or online, there are support groups for everyone. And I mean everyone. Are you a cheese-eating golfer who only plays on Wednesdays when the temperature is 72 degrees? There’s probably a Facebook group for you. Find a safe place to vent, even if you have to do it anonymously.

10. Smile.

The act of smiling can actually make you happier. It’s science.

Happiness doesn’t have to be something that only happens to other people. Jump over the roadblocks and YOU can find it, too.

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I have no explanation for my absence other than the fact that May is kind of a jerk.

It rolled in with me crossing a half marathon off my life-list on a beautiful morning, then the sun appeared and flowers bloomed, there were weekend getaways, fresh air, laughter, and friends started coming out of their homes like spring-struck zombies carrying grilled hamburgers and coolers of beer. See? May is a jerk because it makes all the other months look bad.

There are a lot of things going on my life that I can’t discuss here; like, my bangs for instance. We really shouldn’t talk about my bangs. They are in that awkward, growing-out stage where I have to apologize for them a lot. I’m sorry for my bangs.

My whole life is like my bangs, really. Everything is in that awkward, growing stage where you aren’t sure of your footing or where your next step will lead. That is why I almost packed a bag and flew out to Utah on a whim to hike in Zion National Park (another life-list item). Because I’ve heard there’s no better time to walk up the side of a cliff than when you aren’t sure of your footing. Wait…maybe it was my estranged husband who told me that.

But, despite being unsure of the road ahead, I am eager to see where it leads. Facing so many unknowns – facing fears I never thought I would need to face…EVER – well, it’s resulted in me being a lot more fearLESS. I guess some people would call it an awakening. Either that, or stupid. Whatever you call it, I think it’s pretty grand.

Let me see if I can break it down into something everyone can understand. Beef.

Let’s say you always order chicken. Occasionally, when you’re feeling a little crazy, you get yourself a piece of salmon, but most of the time it’s just chicken. You always get chicken, because you don’t like steak. Plus, steak is expensive.

But, everyone keeps telling you how delicious steak is and you’re really missing out by not ordering it. So, one day you think I’m going to try this ONE MORE TIME and you order a ribeye that’s been marinating for, what tastes like, a million years. It’s tender, it’s delicious, it melts in your mouth. You really have been missing out. You hate it when your friends are right!

It turns out that all this time you were just ordering the wrong cut of meat. And, this is not a metaphor for my relationship, it’s really about steak. And, life. Steak IS life. Take that, chicken.

So, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying all the steaks. I’m noticing how blue the sky is, how beautiful the music sounds, how joyous my children are, how cold the beer is, how soft my bed feels, and I’m letting it all marinate and enjoying it on a big, fat, life platter.

And May has been a LOT of that. I guess she’s not so bad after all.

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