3000 Questions – Perfect Happiness


As part of my attempts to stretch my creative writing juices, I’ll be posting answers to a book of 3000 Questions About Me.

Question 1: What is your idea of perfect happiness?

This would go back to the idea of “heaven”—a place without pain, sadness, or sin. However, my view of heaven has changed. I no longer believe in a mythical place out in the ether somewhere. I believe that heaven will be placed on this earth, as a new and restored world, where God finally reigns as king and oversees all. Where, even though we have a knowledge of good and evil, we choose to do good.

Friday Feeling

I haven’t felt like writing recently. I’ve been in such a fog. Feeling lazy and unmotivated. What can I say that doesn’t involve me explaining why the Eagles suck this season?

Things have been steady and neutral. My son’s behavior isn’t as troublesome at school and work isn’t driving me nuts (at the moment).

Wednesday I find out the results of my pregnancy test. Hoping, wishing, and praying for a positive outcome.

I haven’t felt this angsty, angry, anything since I was 14. I’m depressed, despairing—dare I say it, even suicidal. The idea of a noose around my neck sounds really good right about now.

But I’m also letting my mind entertain depressive thoughts. Because they’re just thoughts. And I’ll get through them, right?

When’s the best time to schedule a mental breakdown?


My son is in Pre-K. He is almost 5. Where did the time go?

I suffered from postpartum depression for a year and a half after his birth. I essentially missed out on the first 2 years of his life. They were spent with me crying, worrying, scared, petrified, paranoid, anxious, and depressed.

Looking back, I guess my glasses are now rose colored. I look at pictures from when he was a teeny tiny 4-pounder and now realize how adorable he was. And wish I could’ve appreciated him more. (And wish he would’ve cuddled more apart from sickness and sleep.) And wish I could go back in time and love him the way I ought without PPD or mental illness getting in my way.

This time next year, he’ll be out of daycare in Kindergarten. I think I’ll be beside myself. Heaven knows what I will do. Other than be grateful.

The only prayer I could utter this morning was, “Help me, Lord.” Because there are so many things going on and I just don’t know how to pray. That, and it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to God. Like, REALLY poured out my heart to Him.

So, I ask the Holy Spirit to pray for me today.

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” —Romans 8:26 (ESV)

My mom visited this week. Lots of emotions. Not necessarily good ones. Frustration, annoyance, even anger at some points. Mostly embarrassment between the clashing of two worlds—my mother’s Caribbean culture and that of my husband’s American ones. The lettuce tea. The undershirt around the throat to help prevent coughing. The cleaning of my and my husband’s bedroom without asking first. I guess if it were just me I wouldn’t have cared but my husband wasn’t a fan of it and I was embarrassed that he was annoyed so…

Mom is nit picky AF. (Will AF still be an understood thing 10 years from now?) She asked me yesterday if I was going to work because I didn’t look like it and that I hadn’t fixed my hair when it was actually looking great for the humidity. Sometimes, I cannot (deal with her). (Again, will “I cannot” and “I can’t” be a thing [acceptable slang] in 10 years?)

She’s also pretty passive-aggressive. I asked her not to clean our bedroom and she got particularly huffy and said she wasn’t going to clean anything anymore and she wouldn’t come and visit again. I told her she could clean everything but the bedroom was off-limits. Sometimes I can’t handle the martyr complex. The worst part is, I see it in myself and I’ve done it too.

At work, I have to confront an fellow editor over some copy editing issues. I reviewed mock-ups of a website and found egregious errors and typos. (Not that I won’t have any of this on this site.) But there wasn’t just one—there were a multitude. And it was ridiculous. What the heck was he doing? Why did he miss so many mistakes? I get that he was working hard but why wasn’t the mock-up cleaner to show for it? As I sit here and write this, I find myself absolutely baffled.

My son’s behavior has been troublesome as of late. He’s throwing tantrums at school and disrupting class, especially naptime, when he feels like it. My husband and I have tried talking to him and working with him and he seems intent on getting attention any way he can, even if it means getting negative attention. It’s very frustrating, disappointing, and disheartening. We plan on getting him evaluated by the county to assist with any special needs he might have. He’s a happy kid, but sometimes TOO happy. He rarely takes anything seriously, which I KNOW is going to bite him in the butt eventually. I can’t change his personality. I can only hope and pray that he begins to see the gravity of some things and wises up.