Adventures Of An Incurable Optimist...not

Most of my life just feels so wrong right now.

Although I have lived in Chicago for nearly 10 years, I still don't feel at home. Being here - so far away from my nearest and dearest - is fundamentally wrong. Being a single parent also feels, understandably, wrong.

I like to perceive myself as a 'glass half full' person, but obviously I'm just kidding myself. When I consider my life as it stands I can only see that I will be happy in the future...happy when I am back at home near my family, happy when I get my working life together and am more productive professionally, happy when I am in a relationship again. But all those things are some way off in time. And the key to happiness, if you read all the books on the subject, is just making the decision to be happy NOW.

If only it was that easy. Or rather, if only I found it that easy. But like so many other things in life, it just presents itself as a little bit fallacy and a whole lot chore. I understand the theory, but trying to put it into practice makes me feel an even greater failure. 'Life is just a game' 'Life is what you make of it' 'Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change'. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. And I'm not deeply UNhappy - it just all feels sublimely wrong.

The boys were with their father for the first five nights of the half-term break. They had a lovely time. I didn't. I have come to realise that the pleasure of sleeping in is only truly appreciated when a) you are sharing the experience with someone else or b) it is at someone else's expense. Just being able to sleep in for the sake of it is not half as gratifying. I didn't have much to do for those five days - and ended up doing much less. I am sure a prisoner in solitary confinement could have been more productive.

I spent most of the five days in some variation of a supine position, just switching locations to add a little interest to my day. I got up and managed to relocate my sluggish body to the sofa, where I would watch TV and read Kate Atkinson, before succumbing to a nap. The only point I was relatively horizontal was when I sat glued for hours watching YouTube clips of Britain's Got Talent, sucking out the creme filling of a pack of double stuff Oreos. I did manage to leave the house on one occasion to go and eat my body weight in ribs at a friend's barbeque (although quite how I have lived here nine years and have never quite registered the national requirement of grilling food outside to commemorate Memorial Day is a little perturbing).

Of course, with the advantage of Skype, I did get to 'see' the boys on a daily basis, having a whale of a time in their dad's place. And that's just great. How wonderful that they are having such a happy, relaxing time. Just what I want. Only it just feels plain wrong to witness all that vibrant chirpiness in a location just over a mile away, with the man that I loved for years pottering about in the background. How has this happened to our family? How did we reach this point where we are now so totally dismantled? How is it that there is one adult in this situation taking everything in their stride...and that adult isn't me?

The boys came home yesterday and it was fantastic to have all that life and energy back in the house. For the first hour. After that I felt the need to self-medicate with a gin and tonic in order to observe all the bouncing off the walls without throwing a hissy fit. All I have wanted in my life over the past few years has been a little balance. But at the present time it is either an all or nothing scenario. I am either in sole charge of both boys and am totally exhausted by the non-stop nature of all this testosterone in action. Or I am alone. Both scenarios feel utterly unfulfilling.

What I would give to add another adult (okay, let's be greedy here for a minute...maybe two) to the mix. Preferably one not accompanied by errant children of their own. My parents, my sister or my brother would be good candidates - someone who delights in my children's company, takes great joy in sitting elbow deep in playdoh for an hour, plays hide and seek till the cows come home and, most importantly, continues to see the inherent goodness in them even when they are being the vilest of tykes. And maybe once in a while I will get a proper hug from someone that I deeply care about and be reassured that I really AM doing a good job.

Anyway, as there isn't another adult in the vicinity, last night saw me sitting on my arse as soon as the kids were in bed, in preparation for hours of trash TV viewing. The gloss is also starting to wear off being in sole charge of the remote control. In my previous life I would be forced on a regular basis to companionably observe shows that required the viewer to have more than half a brain cell to comprehend. That is no longer the case. So now I watch back-to-back episodes of all the dross that I could never get away with before. The Real Housewives of New Jersey is the current favourite. Most of my more cerebral favourites (Mistresses, Ashes to Ashes, Millionaire Matchmaker, Desperate Housewives) have all recently come to the end of a season and now TRHONJ is pretty much all I am left with.

However, I was up-to-date on all the shenanigans in NJ. So in a bit of a grump and with a cynical sigh I opted to watch a documentary by Michael J Fox called Adventures of an Incurable Optimist. Oh here we go. Someone with all the answers. Someone with an incurable degenerative disease with all the answers. This is really going to make me feel good about myself.

Well...the programme itself was entertaining and informative and certainly provoked a lot of thought. Did you know that Bhutan measures GNH as a greater measure of the country's success than GDP? That's Gross National Happiness. They even have a Commissioner for it and a political manifesto - they take it very, very seriously (but always with a smile and sometimes with an impish wink).

The key findings of the programme were that there are two key factors generally governing optimism.

1. Genetics - you are either born predisposed to optimism. Or you're not. (oh fart, I am so screwed)

2. Your social environment - feeling part of a family and community. Being surrounded by people that you care about and that care about you. (Oh double fart, with follow-through.)

Actually, it did raise my optimism a little. It was nice to have confirmed that my feelings of everything being off kilter is not just me going a wee bit mad-in-the-nappa. That, despite the dodgy inherent genetics which cause me to dwell on the worst case scenario, my current situation is lacking in the essential ingredients that create happiness and quench your soul.

So not mad then. Or really depressed. Just a bit blah. Just a bit lost.

Just a bit wrong.