Misery is magnificent

With so much family togetherness during this blissful holiday season, I have learned something about myself. I am not usually happy unless I am unhappy. Not truly unhappy....but just a bit discontent. I find that my road to motivation and fulfillment in life is non-productive when everything seems great. Without neurotic anxiety concerning most life issues, I feel like life is just elevator music. Complaining and worrying are two of my favorite sports. When people ask me how things are going, I may begin with the banal "great, and how are you?' But the truth is so much better. Who really cares if everything is great? It's like those annoying Christmas letters people write to tell everyone about achievements, trips, recognition etc. Isn't that the height of insincerity? I would way rather know about their struggles, fears, doubts and disasters. Then I would know how much we have in common and understand their experience; It would be real. Living like Polyanna is overrated, who ever got anything great done without suffering a little? Although I will admit that real suffering is horrible and I wouldn't wish that on anyone, pseudo-suffering is fun. So my holiday advice is to eat, drink and be merry, and then do some therapeutic bitching. Family members and friends will know and love the real you.