Do I want to be right or do I want to be happy?
You might be thinking you know what direction this post is going, so I’m going to try and disappoint you.
I’m not sure any more that I am really striving to be either.
20 and 30-year-old Pippa’s answer, if the notion of being wrong had EVER entered her head, would’ve been to be “right”. The idea of being in the wrong, getting it wrong or failing in any way terrified her to the point of seriously faked confidence, bullshitting her way out of every single situation she felt even slightly wobbly in and essentially living in terror of being found wanting.
She would have argued black was white when 99.9% of the time the reality was many shades of grey.
Earlier 40s Pippa would have preached in a zen-like fashion that she would much rather be happy than right (cough I call bull💩). She still had a pretty fixed view of the world and so “happy” had lots of nice definable shapes and lines around it and looked like a better thing to strive for than perfect.
And now we meet 47-year-old Pippa (Hi 👋🏼). I’m pretty sure I’m not really looking to be either. Right means I have taken on a fixed view of how things SHOULD be and that just doesn’t work for me anymore. Didn’t ever really. The more I unpretzel and the more I re-learn, the more radically my views change, so to be ‘right” is kind of a moveable feast anyway.
To be happy – what does that even MEAN? Happiness is a transient thing and I know in my future life like in my past, there will be moments of joy, moments of grief, moments of happiness and moments of sadness. I’m very much here for all of them and more.
So maybe what I’ll do is strive to appreciate and notice the moments of joy and happiness more than I might’ve done in the past. Maybe that feels good instead.
Who knows 🤷🏻♀️.