“I’m happy to be being here.”
Yes, I actually heard that answer given in a television interview, and thought, at the time, it was a quaint expression.
But in reality, this was a person for whom English was a second language, and that was, quite literally, their translation from their language to English.
Suffice to say, that person was not happy when lost the event she was participating in.
But that particular memory was triggered by another event.
Someone asked me how happy I was.
Happy is another of those words like good, thrown around like a rag doll, used without consequence, or regard for its true meaning.
“After everything that’s happened, you should be the happiest man alive!”
I should be, to them.
A real friend might also say, “Are you sure, you don’t look happy.”
I hesitate but say, “Sure. I woke up with a headache,” or some other lame reason.
But, in reality, I’m not ‘happy’. Convention says that we should be happy if everything is going well. In my case, it is, to a certain extent, but it is what’s happening within that’s the problem. We say it because people expect it.
I find there is no use complaining because no one will listen, and definitely, no one likes serial complainers.
But somewhere in all those complaints will be the truth, the one item that is bugging us.
It is a case of whether we are prepared to listen. Really listen.
And not necessarily take people at their word.