'How I found the secret to happiness.'

I found the secret to happiness.

"I'd give anything for you to be happy," my husband said to me, two weeks out from the end of the school term. The words stung even more since they hadn't been intended as an attack, rather a longing and genuine desire.

I don't feel sad. I rarely cry or give in to any emotion for that matter. Once, my then eight-year-old son told me, "You're not a mum who laughs much".

He's right. I can smile at funny things and force a chuckle, but actual side-splitting laughter? No, it doesn't happen.

I also don't feel 'unhappy'. What I am is tired, worn out, stressed, and busy.

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When I get up in the morning, I'm already fatigued and by evening my limbs feel weighted, and my eyes ache.

I will myself through the close-of-day tasks: Just hang out that load of washing, make sure the kids have uniforms. Now have a shower and remember to wash your hair. All that’s left is lunchboxes then you can go to bed.

My husband has a similar list of pre-bed activities while my children, 10 and eight, are learning to wash their own underwear. My husband is paid to work full time, and I am paid to work three days each week while 'love for our family' and 'the need to survive' funds the rest of our workload.

But hey, that's parenthood right? Show me a mother who isn't drowning under housework or homework or extra-curricular drop-offs. Surely a bit of unhappiness comes with the territory?

So, halfway through the school holidays when I felt a pang of something unfamiliar, it took a while to identify the emotion as happiness. As I jokingly bantered with my husband and genuinely laughed at the kids' antics, a sense of warmth crept over me. It felt as though my cheeks had actually become rosy; my muscles more relaxed.

My busy mind was still, and my chest loosened from the movement of laughter. How did I get here? What had caused a break in the clouds to allow the sun to shine through? And more importantly, how could I hold on to it? Like a helium balloon tugging on its string, how could I tie this feeling to my wrist so it wouldn’t float away?

Sadly, it wasn't as simple as a slipknot. In the week leading up to my happiness revelation, I had spent four days at the beautiful Peregian Beach with my two brothers and their families. I had been very anxious about this trip. It was the first time staying with them since we were children, and it was my first time meeting my older brother's partner of 12 years – the same partner who I didn't know existed until a year ago. There was a mountain of family dynamics to unpack but they mostly took a backseat to our joy of being together again.

At the start of the trip, I quickly realised I was the third wheel. My brothers and their partners had holidayed together several times, and my older sister couldn't join us. As the four of them caught up and cuddled the two babies, the initial feelings of being on the outer gave way to a releasing, freeing sensation. On this trip, I was completely solo.

My husband had stayed home to work, and my kids were with their grandparents having the time of their lives. I had no obligations to anyone – my company didn't need me to connect them, my husband didn't need me to include him, and my children didn't need me for anything!

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The ensuing four days included real champagne, hours long massages, a gondola cruise up the Noosa River and plenty of fine dining. I wore heels and red lipstick, was never the designated driver, slept in and body boarded in the surf all by myself.

The highlight was becoming reacquainted with my older brother. I revelled in learning how similar I am to him. My brother is wildly successful having created his own family and a full life completely different to the one he grew up with, as well as crafted a successful career at the top of the corporate ladder. Yet he displayed the same insecurities and vulnerabilities that I find shape my every day:

Should we drive or walk? Drive. No walk. No, let's scoot. Actually, we'll drive.

Should I take the tent to the beach? No, we won't need it.. But what if we get sunburnt? Will others mind if that's all I'm carrying? Let's take it, no leave it… (Spoiler - we ended up taking two!)

What if these ticks of our personalities aren't weaknesses and success could be found among them? It was obvious how deeply he was loved by his partner, who sometimes eased his anxieties and other times disqualified them. It also didn't stop the rest of our company wanting to be in his company.

Image: Supplied.

After the first day, I no longer felt at all socially anxious. The family around me didn't seem to care if I changed my mind multiple times. If I said something stupid, they either called me out or didn't care. At the same time, I was unconcerned as to what they thought of me. Their opinion weighed little on my identity – especially given our history.

During the trip (which ended with food poisoning FYI, so it wasn't all rainbows and red wine) it didn't occur to me that the impact of the relaxation would continue into real life. But a few days later, back with the chaos and turbulence of usual family life, I still felt happy.

As the school holidays simultaneously slip through my fingers and drag endlessly on, the lightness of the pre-Easter days have begun to feel like a distant memory. Hopefully, the markings will last, like an intricate henna design: still evident and beautiful in many weeks' time. In the meantime, I'll continue to reflect on just what it was that let the light shine through. Maybe then I can truly uncover the secret to happiness.

Angie Conroy is a writer, teacher, wife and mum.

Feature Image: Supplied.