The unhappiest find happiness.

I wonder about people who continually refuse to be happy. Instead, they dwell on whatever it is that make them lament. They prefer living in a funk. Take my sister, for instance. She spent most of her life in a state of agitation and depression. Flagellating herself. I suspect it all started with our father's suicide. When she was 9 years old. Could be she was always in search of a father figure. Maybe that's why she entered three abusive marriages. She became submissive. To her husbands. In search of a father figure. Don't know for sure. It's speculation on my part. I suspect, too, that she had suicidal tendencies. Like father. But she was choosing a slow form of suicide. Punishing herself. Via low self-esteem. With unhealthy practices. Drinking to excess. Chain-smoking. Not really caring if she lived. The good news. About 10 years ago, in her 60s, she decided it was time to truly live. And turned her life around. Sort of picking herself up. By the boot straps. She quit smoking. Quit drinking. Cold turkey. Maybe it was an event. She fell asleep  On the couch. In a drunken stupor.  Cigarette in hand. Burned the house down. Fortunately, she escaped. And just like that. In a snap of the fingers. She decided it was time to get things right. She had bottomed out. On Feb. 20, she celebrated her 76th birthday. I would never have guessed. That she would live this long. She's still in reasonably good health. Albeit, in a wheelchair. Having lost a leg. Due to circulatory problems. But she has a remarkably clear head. And she seems to have found happiness. If not a father. Yes, makes me wonder. About life's strange twists. Give it time. And some of the unhappiest people find happiness. --Jim Broede