“I don’t want Happy.”

Pharrell’s Top 40 hit has taken over our house.

Iz loves singing it and dancing to the song.

It is on repeat at our home along with every song from the “Frozen” soundtrack.

About a week ago, I hear the familiar tune start playing in Iz’s room.

Then, I hear little feet scamper to me.

Evan, with his sad, fat lip and crocodile tears, runs up to me, points in the direction of his sister, and cried, “I don’t want Happy.”

“I don’t want Happy.”

In his case, he just didn’t want the song that had been played on a loop for the past few weeks.

But, at that time…I was agreeing with him.

My mantra for the the past several weeks has been, “I don’t want Happy.”

I refused to let myself experience joy.

I let anger infect my soul.

I let fear suck the hope out of every inch of my being.

I turned my back away from God.

I didn’t go to church.

I deleted my Bible app.

I stopped talking to friends.

I ignored texts from people from church.

I was mean to my kids.

I was mean to my husband.

I was the person I feared most.

I was the person that had given up.

I didn’t want “Happy.”

Because, “Happy” to me, means that I could be care free – not a thing to worry about.

But, that is a lie.

My life is roller coaster than never stops.  The moment I take a breath from the last set of news about my boy, we are just given a new diagnosis, a new procedure or surgical date…and up, up, up we go.

Getting ready to fear the drop.  Not quite sure how steep this mountain we have to climb is going to be.  Not quite sure if we will plummet downhill quickly or slowly go back to smooth ride for a minute or many.

So…I didn’t want Happy.

I battled with the demons inside my heart and in my head.

Guilt.  The guilt of everything we had (will) put Evan through. The guilt I had buried came back to life – the one where I had come to peace with the fact that there really was nothing I could have done to prevent this. Guilt that my boy was doing well…but others weren’t.

Anger. Anger that my son had to go through all of this sh!t.  Anger that he would be in pain again. Anger in knowing that this journey was never ending. Anger that I had prayed for my boy but felt like my prayers weren’t working.

Envy.  Envy for the lives of my friends and family who have normal.  Envy of other’s in the Heartland that seemed to be keeping it together while I was falling apart.

Fear.  Fear for the heart cath that will show if his heart is working.  Fear for what is to come if it’s not.  Fear for the procedure itself knowing it’s inherent risks.

I turned my back on prayer and hope and faith and love.  I made the conscious choice to stop everything that I had built the last 2+ years since having Evan.

When, I felt all those demons consume me – I let them.

I let all the things I had battled against get a hold of my spirit.

And I suffered.

I could feel all the negativity creeping into everything I loved.  I saw it in my children’s eyes. I heard it in my husband’s pleas to me.  I saw it in my reflection – I had changed.

I chose to let those demons be a part of me because I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more than that.

The problem with allowing the negative to shape my being is that you really don’t get any benefit from it.

The guilt, the anger, the fear – it just made things infinitely worse.

I had hoped that wallowing in all those things would be more of a comfort than the hope and the faith and the love that I had grown accustomed to.

But, it didn’t work.  My attempts to be the angry person who hated my life didn’t change the one thing that I wanted to change most….my life.

My life is what it is.  As hard as it is….for whatever reason…for whatever purpose….this is the hand I (we – my family) have been dealt.

It is the hard truth that you have to choose to make the most of the life you have or choose to make a change in it.

I will be honest…I’m still holding onto a lot of anger these days. But, I do let go of it every now and then.

I still feel guilt for all Evan is enduring and has endured…but I reminded in his smile that there is no place for guilt when there is joy.

I am still envious of the normal of everyone else’s everyday…but I am reminded that we are still getting an everyday with our boy and many cannot say that.

I am still fearful of what is to come…but I am reminded daily of the hardships we have surpassed.

And another honest truth, I’m so thankful for this life I “want” to change.

So many little things about my life – when I shove the demons aside – are good.

My friendships that have withstood the greatest tests.

My best boy.  Broken heart and all.

My best girl that has had her heart broken, too.

My marriage where we have honored “through sickness and health.”

The little things about my life that are good…are the things about life that make it worth living.

I may choose to “not want happy.”

But sometimes, “happy” chooses us.