Happiness vs. Being Happy

I am trying to figure out this thing about Happiness.
We're entitled to the 'pursuit' of it.
But I have been questioning whether anyone knows what comprises it.
And - honestly - whether it exists.

Oh, trust me, I believe that there are times when I am happy. I happily ride my bike, throw down my mat for yoga, shop for ingredients for great dishes, plan ski trips, connect with old friends, read good books, help good candidates find great jobs, learn new things, rescue dogs and on and on and on. There are 1000s, if not millions, of things that make me happy. Sunsets. Sand. Soft sweaters. Shoes (no, I did not intend this whole list to start with S).

But I am not sure being happy constitutes happiness. And even if it does, it's not a perpetual state. Nor something you have, or control, or acquire henceforth to hoard, or share, or time-cost average or quantify or place a monetary value on.

Further, I think that expecting to be happy, and the corollary, being disappointed that you're not, can cause feelings of inadequacy, guilt, and depression.
I have read that in other cultures, happiness is associated with luck.
But in our society, we're even told that luck is something we make. Which means, of course, that if we're responsible for our own luck, then we're also responsible for every unlucky thing that happens, too. That's a lot of responsibility. And pretty darn overwhelming.

I frequently break out an exercise in "gratitude" when I seem to be "not happy" for no particular reason. Another thing my brain does is remind me that most of my problems are first-world issues - like the fact that my favorite formula of Aussie hair spray only comes in the smaller size can at my local store instead of the large, economy size.

So, it turns out, I AM grateful. I DO have perspective. I KNOW that I live a privileged, safe, secure and amazing life. But, does that mean I have Happiness?

People tell me I am too hard on myself (eh, I don't think so) and that I'm never satisfied (not sure we should be - lest we become complacent, or ... lazy). One childhood friend describes me as "extremely serious." And so sometimes I wonder if I'm really a miserable person and that I just don't know what Happiness is, so how could I believe it exists?

On the other hand, I do not strive to be 'rich,' as money is a lot less important to me as people, or experiences. I just want enough money to be comfortable. I also do not stay up late or get up early because I am driven by the rat race of our culture - sleep deprivation is the number one health problem among US adults - but I get 8 hours a night on a bad night.

I have very little fear. But I guess I am a worrier. It's harder for me to put things out of my mind than I realized. And I don't support escaping reality through substances of any kind.

One of the things I have been worried about is that I cannot seem to attain happiness.  But upon further reflection, it's really that I just can't hold on to it.

My guess is that no one can. My guess is that there's no such thing. My guess is that you can be happy, but happiness doesn't exist.

And no, it's not just semantics.