Whew!

How pure is happiness? Landing the tasty apartment or job or ice cream cone, winning the race or the lottery, hearing your beloved say they love you too, seeing that smile on your kid’s face when they hand you their report card.  These things make you feel great.

But a lot of your happiness is mixed with relief. You might have lost the race, your kid might be having real trouble in school, and you might have ended up on the street if you hadn’t won the lottery.

Relief is the stronger emotion.  No amount of joy compares with the relief of a negative biopsy, of a cramp or ache going away, of being found not guilty, not liable, not in arrears.

Which is a long lead in to my current situation. As of yesterday, I have finished this round of edits on Camp FUNdament.

I’m happy because it is now a better book. (I don’t know about good, but it’s better than it was.)  

And I’m relieved. That’s bigger.  I got it done. It is no longer hanging over my head. I didn’t let down my editor or partner.

In a few minutes I’ll head out on a run, then off to a friend’s for dinner. I’ll have that warm relieved feeling in the back of my mind.

For how long, though? How long does relief last?  Until the next hurdle, I suppose.  The next overindulgence, the next criminal accusation, the next income tax filing.

The next round of edits.