Lessons I Learned Through Counselling

Note: As I reread and started editing this piece, I must emphasize that I am writing only out of my own personal experience. In the whole realm of depression, anxiety, mental wellness and coping with life as I know it, I am not qualified to offer any advise to anyone. 

In reality, I am writing this to my "future self" so I know where to turn if I need to remind myself of where I've been, what I've learned and where to guide myself if and when I find myself in a downward spiral of coping abilities.

This is a follow up post to "Too Little, Too Late". A little rant on counselling after what felt like a lost hour speaking to a counsellor.

In reality, I did highlight the lessons I have learned while in counselling. And they are worth noting:

1. Guide your actions based on what you will be able to live with 

I walked through The Year of Mom with that lesson firmly embedded in my thoughts. One never knows what life is going to deal out. If we never saw a person again, would we be able to live with our actions?

By acting with kindness, it is a win-win for all. Simply do your best. When your best isn't enough, take the lessons learned and try again another day.

Words, once spoken, can never be taken back. Just like gluing together a broken piece of China ... something can be mended but it will never be the same again. Saying nothing is sometimes the best thing to say. That is a lesson I may keep learning until my dying day.

Learn, atone for your actions, forgive yourself and remember the lesson! You are an imperfect being. Get over it. Just do your best. Again (and again and again!).

2. Walk away while you can 

There are unfixable relationships and situations in everyone's life. The key is recognizing them. Then once identified, acknowledge what is within your power to fix.

Jobs, relationships, where you live, how you live, even dealing with health issues ... some things can be abandoned. Others, one must adapt to and work around.

When you have done all you know how to do and you are still being brought to your knees from a situation, sometimes the best choice may be to walk away IF and when you can. As Kenny Rogers would say, "You gotta know when to fold 'em".

3. Make notes, write down dates, times, incidents and all the details you may need to have so you can defend yourself

There are times you may not be able to walk away for any variety of reasons. Self preservation is key.

In situations that feel unbearable, I often find myself writing down key points. More often than not, when I get my worries out of my head and onto a piece of paper, the emotional impact is released and my concerns become more manageable. I am in a better place to discuss my side of a story and work towards a resolution.

Sometimes this has worked for me. Sometimes it hasn't. Either way, having the facts laid out helps me decide whether I have a hand worth holding onto or not.

4. See your doctor

If you have tried all you know how to do and are still in a downward spiral and unable to pull yourself up and out of where you are at, see your doctor. Do all you can to ensure there is nothing physical causing your symptoms. Be candid with your doctor. Ask for help and direction.

5. Tell them you need to speak to someone as soon as possible

It is next to impossible to know where you are in the spectrum of feeling "okay" when you are in a slow but steady decline. A doctor can only base their treatment plan based on what they see. Allow yourself to be vulnerable when you ask for help. If you go home and know you can't wait, call back and ask for more immediate assistance.

6. Book a winter holiday

This is not a reasonable solution for many of us but if it is possible, it is worth consideration. Look for ways to cope with the season of dark and coldness. If you recognize you are particularly vulnerable to this seasonal disorder, do what you can to preempt the blues.

My enemies are idleness, solitude and falling back into my "numbing" habits (eating, sleeping, scrolling and lurking on social media sites to name a few). Knowing this should help me prepare. Keeping busy, taking on an all encompassing winter project that occupies my time, thoughts and energy would most likely be longer lasting than a brief holiday.

Awareness, preparedness, reminding yourself you have walked this walk before and have come out the other side with a few more coping skills up your sleeve may or may not make "the next time" different than the last time.

Note to "future me":

Life has taught you everything you need to know. You have walked through the darkness before, you will do it again. Each time makes you stronger and more capable of enduring the next time. You CAN and you WILL see the light. I don't know when. I don't know how. But if all else fails? Book a winter holiday. It certainly couldn't hurt, could it?

Too Little, Too Late

I have spoke to a counsellor four times in my life. Each one of those times, I went once. Once was enough. I took one statement away from each one of those visits and life moved on.

I spoke to a counsellor when Dad moved to a care home where he lived out the remainder of his life. I have no idea what my side of the conversation was but I do remember her telling me to guide my actions based on what I would be able to live with after he was gone.

Thirty five years later, I believe I would have reacted differently. But I cannot go there. I was young and naive. I did my best.

My husband and I spoke to a counsellor after a particularly bad incident within our marriage. I remember little of the conversation. I do remember the counsellor asking why we would want to save this marriage.

Perhaps that is a blanket statement a marriage counsellor asks each couple they speak to, so the discussion focuses on the positive. The message I heard at the time was, "Walk away while you can ..." So (eventually), that is exactly what I did.

I was still young and naive, but by the time I walked away from my marriage for the third and final time, I was starting to get a little wiser.

The third counsellor I saw was while I was trying to work through a toxic work situation. The first 55 minutes of the session felt like they were straight out of Psychology 101. I was given strategies and tools that I already had and used. I graduated her elementary school of psychology with honors long before she did. I sat in her office feeling frustrated and like I wasn't being heard.

Finally, in the final five minutes of the session she heard what I was telling her. I was in a no win situation at work. I needed some tools to help me deal with my reality because I had no intention of quitting. In those final minutes she quickly told me to make notes, write down dates, times, incidents and all the details I may need to have so I could defend myself.

In the end, the job could not be saved. My boss' boss told me "I was hoping it would not come to this" when I offered this evidence to him.

I wished I had booked a dance lesson in lieu of my hour of therapy which was not enough to save my sanity AND my job. It took a very long time to recover from that blow.

Fast forward to yesterday. My fourth appointment with a counsellor.

I saw my doctor on January 16th. I knew I was slipping into something deep. I was coping but I asked for help.

I passed all cursory tests and was deemed good enough to call and ask to be put on a waiting list for counselling.

I waited almost three months before I called to ensure I was still on the list. I couldn't stop crying as I spoke to the person on the phone. She offered to fast track me through the wait list to someone who could talk to me before I made it to the regular counsellors. Except that person was on holidays.

Three more weeks of waiting ...

The snow melted during that time and the miraculous healing powers of sunshine, warmth and life beckoning at me to join in was enough to pull me up and out of where I was at. I haven't felt this normal for a very long time.

My appointment was yesterday.

Perhaps it is a little bit like taking a car to the mechanic when it is not presently making the noise you want the mechanic to fix. How do you offer to treat a person in a depressed and anxious state, when they appear to have snapped out of it? You don't.

I spoke of the cyclical nature of my moods and ability to cope. This has been a lifetime condition but I have managed to go from mountains and abysses, to hills and valleys. Except, this last time I fell longer, harder and deeper than I had been before. With one notable exception. I was comfortable there and didn't have the desire nor willpower to pull myself up and out.

I asked for a road map for the next time this may happen.

I was given a sheet of statements to read when I feel this encompass me again. Statements which I could have and may have already written myself.

I was told to see my doctor if I felt this coming. I did that.

I was told if this were to happen again, I would be put on the wait list. Again. But to tell them I needed to speak to someone before that, if I felt the need. I did that too.

I felt like I wasted my time and hers by going to talk to someone when I had already found a rope to hang onto and pull myself up and out of where I had been.

When I told her I felt that winter was a time I felt particularly vulnerable. She recommended I book a winter holiday.

Obviously, I didn't need help after all. As I told her my story, she said little. She seemed to recognize that I already had the tools she was about to offer me.

Maybe I should simply take up dancing again...

P.S. I have just realized that perhaps these "lessons I've learned through counselling" may be enough. More tomorrow...

It Was a Very Good Day

I'm back!!!

It started with an innocent "Do you feel like company?" It resulted in invitations to my sisters and my own little family and a delightful afternoon of visiting, barbequing and simply living in the moment. A person could not have planned or hoped for the day to turn out any better.

It was all very impromptu, last moment, low expectations and (as always, it seems) the weather, everyone's plans and all the little details worked themselves out without so much as a wrinkle.

The potato salad had a few kinks in the process. My vacuum cleaner up and quit on me mere minutes before my company arrived. I forgot about the potatoes sitting in the oven that I had prepared. But it all worked out in the end.

Minor details.

All four of us (Mom's family) gathered together the weekend before Mother's Day. This couldn't and wouldn't have happened next weekend. The weekend before Mother's Day was perfect. We were all together. Spouses and a few of our children joined us. It was a prequel to our up and coming family reunion.

It was light and easy in every sense of the word.

I felt Mom in and around and through me in most every moment as this weekend started to unfold.

My brother was coming and as Mom would often say, "I'll just invite a few people in, so he has other men to visit with".

I decided I could and should prepare a potato salad. Mom taught me all her little tips and tricks on making her potato salad and it is one of the very few (if any) things I make without a recipe. She liked her potato salad a certain way and I wondered if mine would measure up to hers (my sister said it tasted like Mom's ... she is very kind that way).

I bought some pre-formed hamburgers and hoped for the best. The "meat and potatoes" part of the meal was always what Mom focused on. I'm not good with meat, but apparently I can buy a pretty good burger. The meat was a success (thanks to my brother-in-law taking over the role of chief cook and barbequer).

I prepared some oven roasted potatoes. I had them sitting and waiting in the oven. All I had to do was remember to turn them on. I forgot. We snacked on them late last night and had them with scrambled eggs and toast this morning. All was not lost, but Mom would have NEVER forgotten to turn on the potatoes!

We indulged in some alcoholic beverages. Just a few. Only before supper. Mom would not have done that but we enjoy having a drink with each other. So we added our own relaxed flavor to our small gathering.

We ended the meal with coffee and dessert. Again, someone told me the coffee was good (people are far too kind to me - I never quite know if they are teasing, faking or if they are telling me the truth, so there is no need to worry about a comment or compliment going to my head).

It seemed everyone had someone to visit with. The male to female ratio and the personalities of those in attendance were pretty close to ideal.

It was relaxed, easy and it all came together without forethought. It just happened.

Our family was reunited one more time. Just because we could. No obligation to be there. The focus was on the present and future.

Life is moving on. This is good. We will continue to unite and reunite as a family without duty or obligation to be there for each other. We simply enjoy each other's company.

We all parted ways, knowing we will be joining together at our family reunion in a few months.

After Mom died, it was "just the four of us" so very much of the time. Conversations, decisions and dealing with all that Mom left behind was a time for family and family alone. It was a special time and we realized as those days were winding to a close, that we would never have "that" again.

It was hard to let that go but it was necessary.

Our family unit is still united but even more importantly, our circle has easily expanded to welcome and include spouses, children and "the future" into the mix.

Not having a spouse or partner may have made me a little more dependent on family than the rest. My siblings were so sensitive to this fact and made so many allowances for me to lean in a little harder and need a little more. At no time did I feel alone. I knew they were all just a phone call or a visit away.

I don't feel as dependent now. This is important and so very necessary.

I don't know how Mom stood so solidly on her own all of those years. I feel so weak standing here in her shadow. But yesterday? I felt the essence of her slip into my every move and decision. I didn't even realize it as it was happening but I recognized it after the fact.

I subconsciously recreated our "last good day" together. It was a day as close to perfect as I could have ever hoped for. We made a potato salad. It was the last thing we did together. Yesterday, I made "her" salad to share with her family.

And it was good. It was very good (if I do say so myself).

I am starting to live in my Field of Dreams once more. "If you invite them, they will come". And they did! I couldn't be more grateful.

2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours

They say it takes three weeks to form a habit. I was 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours into forming a new habit. All it took was a restless night and one (okay, probably at least thirty) potato chips and I broke the habit I was working so hard to maintain.

It sounds simple. I just wanted to stop snacking after supper.

The first few days were the worst. I then discovered falling asleep early helped me past the most challenging hours. I was starting to feel as though I may have this thing licked. I was hours away from completing my challenge of "the first three weeks" into my new non-snacking-after-supper routine.

I often nod off to sleep, only to awaken and feel fully alert for about 93 seconds and fall back into another deep slumber. This cycle of sleep and wakefulness is not new. I have become quite accustomed to it and manage it very well (Netflix accommodates my need to watch something I'm interested in, in order to fall back to sleep).

One night (2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours into my new no snacking after supper habit), I was going through my regular habit of sleeping, waking, sleeping and waking. Then the phone rang. It was 9:38 p.m., which is also apparently the point of no return when it comes to falling back to sleep.

It was my boss, telling me not to bother coming to work the next morning. They would be having a fire drill in her apartment and the whole process could take a few hours. We would aim for a 1:00 p.m. start time instead ...

After tossing and turning for quite some time after this phone call, I could not shift my attention off the can of Pringles, minding their own business in my closet. The episode of "How I Met Your Mother" did not supercede my interest on those chips.

All I could think of was those chips. Chips. Chips. Chips. Mmmm. Chips. Chips. CHIPS!!!

I gave up. I tried to convince myself that eating in the middle of the night didn't count against my proven track record of 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours of not eating after supper.

I showed great restraint. I only ate about a third of the can. Maybe a half. It was dark. I don't know for sure. I simply know I left quite a few in the can.

I woke the next morning and told myself over and over and over again. One time does not a habit break. Just start anew. Carry on from where you left off. You did this for 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours. You can do it again. Forgive yourself. Move on. Don't quit!!

Then I worked in the yard for four hours that day. I forgot to eat lunch. I came home from work and I felt like snacking. I knew there was that half a can of opened Pringles. "It's okay. You worked for this. You burned extra calories today. Eat the chips. Go ahead ..."

And I did.

Then came another restless night. We are solving math puzzles at work and I had to leave a job half finished. Again. I woke up and all I could see was spreadsheets, numbers, solutions and problem solving whirling around in my head. Over and over and over. No amount of "How I Met Your Mother" episodes could take my mind off the work I left behind yesterday.

So I did what any rational humanoid who is trying to avoid after supper snacking would do. I opened another can of chips.

I didn't even bother getting out of bed this time. Jet was already cat napping in my favorite TV watching spot on the couch beside me, so I simply plumped my pillows, rolled over my portable end table so it was beside me. And I ate.

And I ate. And I ate. And I ate. I'm pretty sure the Pringles can is no more than a third full this morning. Maybe only a quarter.

Rats!! I thought I had this thing. But I do believe I am back at square one again.

Why do I still have chips in the house you ask? When Mom stopped smoking, she kept a half a pack of cigarettes in the house. She had will power like no one I know. Her thinking may (???) have been "I will never BUY another pack of cigarettes again". She never did. She stopped smoking on January 18, 2003 and never smoked again. We smiled when we came upon her opened package of cigarettes after she died...

Maybe I should leave that opened can of Pringles in my closet. Quietly circle a date on my calendar and bring no attention to it other than an unmarked circle on the calendar.

Perhaps the greatest incentive to not smoke again, was knowing how stale those cigarettes would have been, had Mom decided to light one up after their "best before" date. Mom obviously surpassed the "three week" mark.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Maybe I'll try again. Maybe I won't. But if I can make it past the 2 weeks, 6 days and 18 hours mark, it is my hope that a stale bag of chips will be my salvation.

Except, I did not promise to quit eating chips. I simply wanted to break the habit of eating after supper. Thus, the reason I still sleep with chips in my room. Now maybe THAT is the habit I should work on breaking ... removing temptation from my bedroom closet (my kids honestly thought it was normal to hide store snacks in my room and were amazed when the snacking foods "came out of the closet" and into the open).

The opened can of chips I left on the kitchen counter mysteriously disappeared one day. Maybe SHARING my Pringles is the way to go. If one cannot succeed at complete abstinence, perhaps moderation is worth a shot?

Spring Clean Up (now I'm ready for anything!)

Spring is the time I miss my daycaring role the most. I loved this time of year. The kids were ecstatic to be outside, I would putter in the yard as they played. I would rake a little, fill a garbage bag as I went and bit by bit, a job I somewhat detest was done and I barely even noticed I did it.

Now our yard is an abandoned and desolate space. I openly resent it because it still requires a minimal amount of lawn maintenance and care, even though no one uses it.

I asked my Youngest to start the "spring clean up" by raking up and bagging some leaves. She doesn't believe in doing a job twice, when once will suffice. She suggested we simply wait until the grass needed to be mowed, bag it up then and make one time do both jobs.

That sounded nice in theory. But the fact of the matter is that our windy fall, winter and spring blew leaves from Alberta into our yard (not to mention, those from Manitoba, the U.S. and if there were leaves at the North Pole, I think we may have had those as well).

Surely I jest. But seriously, our yard has never looked worse. I considered hiring someone to do the job for us. We could handle the routine cutting and trimming. But maybe it would be worth it to hire a team to take care of the monumental task of dealing with the aftermath of our melted snow.

But then ... I ended up with an unexpected morning off yesterday.

What happened next, was all because "Jet", our stir crazy little black cat, really REALLY wanted outside. Sure! I could do this. I would take out a cup of coffee and savor the spring day.

I took one step outside and immediately grabbed a rake. I reminisced about the "good old days" while I was daycaring and actually cared about the yard. I would just start the job by raking up the leaves by the garage.

I raked beside the deck and garage. Then I noticed how messy it looked behind the playhouse. Then the sand box. I was hopeful the rest of the yard could be tidied up by running the lawn mower over it. I wheeled the lawnmower into the middle of the yard to allow the sun to warm it up and hopefully help it start up after a long fall, winter and spring of neglect.

While the lawnmower soaked up some rays, I swept up the leaves that had blown into the garage and raked up the mess of leaves beside the driveway. I convinced the lawnmower to start, ran it over the back yard, beside the driveway and cat walk beside us. Then I tried picking up a tree's worth of pine cones in the front yard. The lawnmower was of no help. This was a job for a human with a rake.

I persevered. 

One thing led to another and four hours later, I had amassed six bags of leaves, pinecones, dusty dead grass and pine needles.

After all was said and done, I felt and looked as dirty as the garage floor. A quick shower and I would be on my way to work ...

Then I found a message from my brother. "Would you like company this weekend?", he asked. "Yee haw!" and "Yessiree, Bob!" Not only was the yard ready for company, I would be too. The task of washing my hair would be behind me on a Wednesday and that will carry me through the weekend. Bring on the company!! My laundry day seems to have jumped ahead a day earlier than usual, so laundry is done too. 

I would be raring to go for company Friday night ...

Then I received the terrible news that they will not arrive until Saturday. By supper time. Oh no! There goes all my plans of not having enough time to prepare for company. My definition of "ready" has dwindled to - clean sheets; clean bathroom; clean me; cat hair vacuumed; and a ready supply of coffee & toast. 

Oh dear. A clean yard will not be enough. I have time to buy groceries too...

P.S. Brother, you are MORE than welcome to come out a day early if it works for you! It could save me some work.😏

The Missing Receipt

I forgot to flip the calendar page out of April and into May yesterday morning. As a result, I completely and totally forgot about an appointment I had made for yesterday afternoon until they called me when I didn't arrive. I recognized the number calling me and without realizing what I was doing, I answered the phone with a loud and apologetic "Oh NO!! I am SO sorry!!!!"

I cannot remember the last time I completely forgot I had an appointment. Maybe this was a first? I remember showing up a week early one time ... there are certainly many other examples of my humanness within the recesses of my mind. But I simply cannot remember completely and totally forgetting a commitment of someone else's time. How terribly rude.

This morning, I was taking care of another It's a New Month rituals and proceeded to empty the file folder of cash receipts from the year prior. 

I try to keep track of every cent I spend which results in an accumulation of receipts. Sometimes there is a reason to look back and find something on one of them. The majority of the time there is no need. But this routine of filing receipts and culling them a year later is not new to me. I've done it for years.

I have two months of receipts filed together so when I went to flip through last year's receipts this morning, it resulted in an unintentional walk down memory lane from May and June of last year. I promised myself not to pull out last year's calendar to walk through The Year of Mom again, once we started this new year. I will allow myself to recall and remember. But I will not dig for details. I'm trying to let it go.

So this stroll down memory lane, compliments of old receipts was unexpected and unintentional. 

It is not everyone who can pull up old memories via McDonald's, Dairy Queen and old grocery receipts. I can remember the taste, smell and moment I was in by finding those old receipts.

The McDonald's receipt with a "plain hamburger; no salt" took me back to the time I took Mom's friend out for supper and quite accidentally ended up meeting up with my brother while we were there.

Another McDonald's receipt for fries and coffee reminded me of Mom's insistence to get "REGULAR coffee" and to heck with the decaf.

The early morning breakfasts I picked up enroute to Mom's ...

The receipt for drumsticks, along with the memory of Mom gently telling me the next time I came out, "No more drumsticks. Please."  

Food triggers so many little memories. Food and visiting go hand in hand. Mom always tried to have our favorite foods on hand when we came to call. 

I will most likely never forget the receipt I should have in my possession. Mom asked me to pick up a thoughtfully chosen assortment of fruit to have on hand, when my nephew and his family had planned to drop by and visit. Mom ended up in the hospital the expected day of their arrival. There was rarely anyone in her home after that point. Yet she continued to ask me, right to the end, "Did you pick up that fruit yet??"

It just dawned on me this morning, that I should have picked up that fruit and brought a fruit platter to her while she was in the hospital. It is doubtful she would have eaten much, but she would have had it on hand to offer her visitors. She always had something to offer her guests, even when her appetite failed her. 

I took that last gift away from her. It is one receipt I will never have and wish I had. Sorry, Mom. 

The Price Tag of Happiness

It feels like a whole new world around here lately. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, the outdoors is beckoning and there is a lightness of spirit which must go hand in hand with the thawing of the snow and arrival of spring.

As I prepared to feel depleted after my one day weekend this weekend past, I was surprised to find energy left over at the end of a rather long and somewhat stressful week. Why??

Is it because I am purging and releasing my thoughts as I write my way through the moment? Maybe. I believe that helps me lighten my load and bring focus to "the other side of the story".

Is it because I am facing up to the more challenging times the best way I know how? Yes, I truly believe putting either a voice or acting on what is most worrisome keeps life in perspective.

Is it because my senses are heightened and I am focusing on what is in front of me instead of what is in the past? Definitely. No elaboration required.

Is it because I am worry-free and stress levels are eradicated? In a word? No.

Is it because my financial state of affairs are in order and there is a little leeway in the budget? Delightfully, I believe this does add a little spring to my step. Let me tell you why.

I found myself waiting in the cat aisle at WalMart the other day, as a most helpful WalMart employee volunteered to find out if there was a bag of our cat's "sensitive stomach" cat food somewhere else in the store.

Not only was I duly impressed by this employee who was so willing to please, I had time to peruse the cat-toy section beside the cat food. I spied an assortment of cat toys which contained a few of our cat's favorite things. Some "sparkly balls" and some toys which contained cat nip. The price tag was $3.97 and I was feeling rich. Before I left the cat section of the store, I whimsically tossed this little cat treat into the cart and carried on my way.

I came home to find my youngest in our back yard with our cats. The cats were overjoyed to be outside, the weather was perfect and as soon as I put away my purchases, I couldn't wait to sit down and savor the moments with the family I have left at home.

I tossed the cat toys into the cat toy drawer, where my youngest has fashioned a way for "Jet" (our younger cat who gets bored very easily and seems to thrive on ways to challenge himself) to open the drawer by himself, then help himself to the cat toy of his choice. I thought finding the new toys I bought would be a happy surprise for another day.

After spending an hour outside, one would assume our cats would be satisfied and content to simply come back inside, wash up, have a drink, simply relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. One would be wrong.

Jet walked inside and must have immediately picked up the scent of fresh, new cat toys. He opened the cat drawer, checked out the selection of toys and immediately took off with one of the brand new sparkly balls (his personal favorite).

Ray is more of a "cat nip" kind of guy. His interest was piqued by Jet's ability to open their drawer and he too, did a little shopping and popped out of the drawer with a new cat nip mouse in tow.

We sat back and watched our cats enjoy their new toys. It felt like Christmas. It was a perfect end to a perfect day.

Yesterday morning, I found myself in the Dollarama with a little bit of extra time and money on my hands. Why I gravitated towards the cat aisle, I will never know. But I found myself picking out a new toy I thought our cats would enjoy. Four small yarn pom poms for $1.50. I couldn't wait to see their reaction. They did not disappoint.

Spring is a time when I miss my daycare days. Days of breathing in fresh air, going for walks, spotting robins and revelling in all the long forgotten outside toys and spending hours in our back yard. I miss scouring the toy aisles for new and exciting toys for my little daycare crowd. Just like Jet, they too could sniff out something new in the house and would be immediately attracted to the sparkly new toys.

That is where the difference ends.

Our cats don't argue about the new toys. They each pick their favorite, respect the other guy's choice and find a way to get along.

Or, in Ray's case, he batted one of the new pom poms under the cupboard that Jet can no longer squeeze under. Knowing that toy is tucked away for later use, he can simply lay back and enjoy the morning.

They say money can't buy happiness, but I disagree. For the price tag of $5.47 (plus tax), I bought a whole lot of happy.