They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for. - Tom Bodett

Yesterday (March 20 for those in slightly different time zones) was the United Nations International Day of Happiness. Now, much as I don't like being told what to do, or how to feel, on any given day, I actually quite like the whole concept of a day celebrating being happy.

Why? Because human beings are, on the whole, so very, very good at being unhappy.

We excel at it. If there were a Nobel Price for Unhappiness, you would bet your boots that it would have to be shared out across the planet - although there are some individuals who spring to mind as front-runners for the win, including most prominent politicians, who generally look as if a genuine smile (and I emphasise genuine) is a form of strange disease.

The 2013 Gallup Poll of the world's 'Happiest and Unhappiest Countries' revealed that Scandinavia was where it's at for the joy with Norway, Denmark and Sweden taking out gold, silver and bronze - and Australia managing a creditable fourth place. Ireland was tenth, although it was prior to their Six Nations crown this year so I take that with a grain of salt for current standings (so long, Brian O'Driscoll - what a way to go out!).

Unsurprisingly, the Sadness Factor was highest in countries such as the Congo, Chad, and yes, Afghanistan, although I daresay Syria would be pretty near the top of the Tree of Tears now.

I do feel though that the way Gallup measured happiness was fairly subjective. Of course you're going to be less likely to be feeling grumpy living in Australia than in the Yemen, or Burundi; or if you have any concept of how bloody lucky you are then you will be. But asking questions like “Did you feel well-rested yesterday? Were you treated with respect all day yesterday? Did you smile or laugh a lot yesterday? Did you learn or do something interesting yesterday?” doesn't necessarily give you a true picture of what truly makes people happy as opposed to content.

Being treated with respect, and feeling well-rested, or learning something interesting - these are all fabulous things, and shouldn't be taken for granted. A fair whack of the planet doesn't get to enjoy these fairly basic privileges on a daily basis. But they don't in themselves add up to happiness. The essence of happiness is far harder and less tangible to define, and maybe that's why as thickheaded homo sapiens we are so bad at finding it, and instead spend a fair percentage of our lives in perceived blergh, or outright misery.

To me, happiness is intensely personal. It's not just about smiling or laughing. It's about being able to see the potential for laughter on a day, or during a week, or a month, when all that first comes to mind is tears or anger. It's about breaking through the perverse desire we have to say 'things are crap' and saying 'no they aren't... and if they are right now, then they won't always be'.

It's about hope.

Happiness is stupid jokes with those who share your sense of humour. Happiness is that sudden breakthrough in a tricky biscuit situation. Happiness is watching your incredibly grumpy cat stop sulking because you've been away for a week and throw himself on you purring like a maniac. Happiness is quite often chocolate, preferably Lindt Bunnies prior to Easter when strictly speaking they are ILLEGAL.

Happiness is telling someone you love them, and hearing them say it in return.

The world is a deeply scary place. There is so much terror and heartache that sometimes happiness seems like an impossibility. I am not so naive as to think downtown Kiev is a rainbow factory for example. But even in the middle of fear, and loathing, and hatred, it is possible to find that elusive fairy dusted feeling.

'Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy'. Not my words, but those of someone in the most bewildering and terrifying of worlds.

Anne Frank.

Come on. Get happy.

And Sweden... happy nation that you are... look out. I may consider a move to downtown Stockholm. Because I'm certain that being neighbours with a certain Alexander SkarsGod wouldn't impede my happiness factor.

Happy thoughts indeed.

““Truthful words are not beautiful; beautiful words are not truthful. Good words are not persuasive; persuasive words are not good.””

— Lao Tzu

It is probably obvious to anyone who reads this blog that I love language. I love writing, I love expressing opinions. I love a good rant about pretty much anything and I don't hold back if I am upset or hurt about something on someone else's behalf. I quite like talking in a ranty way as well, and am never usually lost for words, much to some people's despair.

And yes, I love shoes. And books. And cats.

Wow, I'm a real prospect. A yarpy, nerdy shoe-loving cat lady.

Awesome. I probably should delete that description, but that would make a nonsense of what I am trying to say.

One thing I am truly bad at, despite all the self-expression - and I think this is possibly true for everyone, but especially for those of us who are introverts pretending to be extroverts - is admitting when things are not fabulous. In written words or out loud.

Actually saying 'I am not OK, and I am not happy/coping/well/in a good place' is something that is ridiculously hard for me to do. I see it as a weakness I suppose. Because when you belong to the 'Suck It Up Princess' School Of Life Management, the first lesson you teach yourself is to - well, suck it up. There's no crying in baseball, things will be fine, get over yourself; these are all words I smack myself around the brain with on a daily basis. Because yes, life does go on and things usually will be fine; but sometimes - well, sometimes they aren't, and admitting that this is a possibility means admitting vulnerability, and fear, and even despair.

Most of all, it means admitting you are human.

Much as I would like to believe it at times, I am not a robot. I can't just go on and on with the power of an automaton - saying 'yep, all good!' and secretly screaming inside my head. Do that, and you will not only end up blowing a gasket, but you will lose so many things - opportunities, options, and most importantly, people who care about you - because you haven't been able to tell them how hard things are, and so when you break, they don't know how to deal. How could they? If you constantly hide all the frailties that you hold inside yourself, then all they know of you is a two-dimensional caricature rather than a real person.

You may well ask why this is a gratitude post.

Because I am immensely grateful for a few things. For someone who cared enough to use truthful words with me, and got me to say out loud 'I am struggling' - and yes, Lao Tzu is correct. Sometimes truthful words are not beautiful. But they are real.

I am also grateful for the people and opportunities in my life. Full stop. That, after admitting to not being at my tiptop best - after actually letting some of that vulnerability out of its locked box in my brain and my heart - I have received back nothing but support and strength and love.

I feel as though I have managed to take off the padlock of said Pandora's box and just breathe.

For anyone out there who is proudly wearing their Suck It Up t-shirt, I just want to say this;

Wear the t-shirt by all means - and do wear it with pride. Because being able to cope under a lot of stress is a strength, and you should be proud of it.

But even the best t-shirts get grubby and need a wash - so every so often, allow yourself a change of metaphysical clothing - and perhaps put on a 'NOT COPING AT ALL' or even just 'Help!' number instead.

Hard - yes.

Essential to being yourself?

Even bigger yes.

And I am grateful that for once, I am letting myself see that - so I'm off to change my top.

'COPING O.K. - BUT HUGS WELCOMED'.

Words I know to be true. And beautiful.

Take that, Lao Tzu.