The Pursuit of Happiness.

O. Chambers once said, "If through a broken heart God can bring his purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart." This really resonated with me, because if I'd never turned to God before, I turned to Him when I had a broken heart. My last breakup was probably one of the toughest. It had been a long time coming, and you'd think that knowing it'd end ugly would prompt me to admonish my heart and prepare for the worst, but nope. Once the relationship ended, I quickly needed peace of mind. There's a saying that's plastered across Instagram that says something like, "The amount of pain you experience after a breakup is directly proportionate to the amount of energy you put into the relationship." How true is that? Without a doubt, the reason why my relationship ending was so painful was because I'd spent so much energy trying to salvage it when I felt it crumbling at my fingertips. There was no reason why we should've been together, yet there we were, going through the motions and calling it "love." That wasn't love. But thankfully, having exhausted all possibilities and being spent in every way imaginable, I had no choice but to go to church and pray for peace of mind. And I got it. So much so, that when he called and asked to "talk," I respectfully declined. I valued my happiness after spending night after night in a depressive state. Reflecting on where I am now, my heightened sense of self-worth, and my inexplicable joy, I can only thank God for yanking me from my situation and forcing me to seek Him for happiness. And that doesn't always come only after you've spent hours in the church, praying for a mighty move of...something grand. See, my problem was that I put God-like expectations on a flawed man and was heartbroken when he didn't measure up. I looked to him for happiness, and I didn't get it. But I turned to God, and instead of sending resounding trumpets and an overflow of joy, He sends a downpour of things that he knows makes my heart smile. My happiness comes in the form of LOLCats and Puffy Cheetos and red wine. It comes in the form of breathtaking sunsets, trains that come right on time, short lines at Starbucks, and a Tuesday night lineup of my favorite shows. My happiness is 2 hours of "Friends" every night on Nickelodeon, and art galleries that carry my favorite paintings. Oh, and best of all, my friends.

For whatever reason, I didn't think certain friends wanted to be bothered with me. I'm a venter. I vent about my problems until I get them out of my system and have nothing more to say. If I could buy a mannequin that I can tell a million times the same problem, I would. As much as I need to talk instead of internalizing my issues until they disappear, I do sometimes feel bad that my friends' GChat windows are filled with me spilling my problems even if I don't require helpful feedback. And sometimes, I do text, "I need some encouraging words" and hope that they have something that will bring me off the ledge. While I have certain friends who hear my troubles as they come, there are a few that I don't want to burden with the things that make me upset. Ciera was one of those people.

Ciera and I got extremely close when she came back from her 18-month deployment in Afghanistan. She was away, and during her time gone I had befriended her core group of girls. Using each other's personal stories as material for our creative writing classes, Ciera and I quickly bonded as we spent most nights in Starbucks with our laptops and our lattes. We were writers, and she got me. Even in our being close, I was hesitant to divulge all of my private information in an effort to not scare her off or burden her. One day, though, I went against my "rule" and told her that my then boyfriend cheated, and I left him. She and I met in Starbucks, and after asking about my weekend, I broke the news.

"We broke up. He cheated on me. Twice, apparently. I cried a bit, but I think it's out of my system. I'll be okay." 

Tears flowed from Ciera's eyes. "I can't believe he did that to you. You're such a good girl and you don't deserve that. I feel silly for getting emotional, but you've done so much for him, and I know you have your flaws, but you didn't deserve that."

I suddenly felt silly for thinking I couldn't talk to her about my problems. It wasn't until I became completely vulnerable and  emotionally exhausted that I turned to her for an encouraging word and receive more than I could've asked for. This receptiveness carried on even after we graduated and I moved to NYC.

Nine months after ending that relationship, I found myself becoming emotionally invested in the friend who actually gave me valuable advice to help me get through that breakup on the day our relationship ended. We started out as great friends, and as our conversation grew, so did our affinity for each other. For months, he was with a girl who he complained about daily, and pretty soon, he began professing his love for me and even spent hours on the phone discussing how life would be when he'd finally leave her and we'd be together. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I'd accepted a relationship like this. But I did, and our demise left me just as hurt and confused as I was throughout the duration of our "friendship." Things escalated, and he did eventually leave his girlfriend, but after just a month of it being "us," he decided that he wanted to live the single life, in spite of the dreams he fed me. Naturally, I was crushed. I went home and talked to my family about it, and they had little sympathy. It started out shady, and of course the ending was a reflection of how we began. As much as I hated him, I had only myself to blame.

I needed to find happiness, and quick. Being around my family was amazing as usual, but I needed more. Luckily, Ciera saw fit to see me before I went back to NYC.

"What time does your flight leave? I really wanna see you before you go." She was in town for drill, and could escape just long enough to have a catch-up sesh. She had no idea I was hurting, but her fervency in meeting up with me broke me down emotionally, and I knew I'd be venting once more before heading home to New York. I told her that I had a late flight, but it didn't matter. I arrived at the airport 2 hours before my flight, and as soon as I pulled up in the departure lane, there she was, sitting in front of the airport, dressed in her full army uniform, and ready to talk. I told her everything, even the parts I was ashamed of. I was completely candid, as I know she expected of me. Spilling the darkest parts of my life to her, she gave nothing but love, support, and understanding in return. We sat for an hour, confessing, giving advice, asking questions, and seeking answers. Because of my poor decisions, I was drained emotionally, and backed up against a wall. It was all my fault. I didn't deserve to be happy, but for that moment, in front of that Richmond airport, God sent me happiness in the form of a friend.