Foreword
前言
Chapter 1 Counting My Blessings
第一部分 细数幸福的事
01. My Epiphany
灵光一现
02. The Great Thanksgiving Challenge
感恩节的巨大挑战
03. Finding My Joy
找到我的快乐
04. My Own Happiness Project
我自己的幸福计划
05. The Color of Happiness
幸福的颜色
06. The Lucky One
幸运儿
07. The Happy Book
幸福之书
08. Asperger’s and Friendship
埃斯博格症与友谊
09. Happiness Is Being a Parent
做父母，最幸福
10. Happy New Year
新年快乐
11.Happiness — A Study in Contrasts
对比之中见幸福
Chapter 2 Back to Basics
第二部分 回归简单
12. The Tent
帐篷
13. True Contentment
真正的满足
14. An Eight-Hour Drive
八小时开车行
15. A Miracle
奇迹
16. Life Lessons from the Lab
猎犬教给我的人生道理
17. Wanting Versus Having
想要与得到
18. A Detour to Bolivia
绕道去玻利维亚
19. Living Life Full-Time
每时每刻体验人生
20. Cupcakes and Karma
纸杯蛋糕与宿命
21. My Little Town
我生活的小镇
Chapter 3 Finding My Passion
第三部分 找到激情
22. Playing Pretend
角色扮演游戏
23. This Is My Stop
我在这里停驻
24. How I Found My Calling
我是如何找到心之所向的
25. Why I Still Travel to the Wild
为什么我还去荒野
26. Never Say Never
永远别说“我不行”
27. Antony’s Gift
安东尼的天赋
28. The Write Life for Me
我的写作事业
29. Dance Lessons
舞蹈课
30. My Great Escape into Writing
逃走去写作
31. A Real Turnaround
人生转折点
Chapter 4 Attitude Adjustments
第四部分 调整心态
32. Life in the Slow Lane
慢车道上的生活
33. A Matter of Perspective
角度很重要
34. The Reset Button
重置按钮
35. Happy Today
今天很开心
36. Career Magic
事业的魔力
37. The Choice
选择
38. Miracle Grow
奇迹在生长
39. Coupon Bliss
优惠券带来的幸福
40. The Gift of Change
改变是个礼物
41. Tending Happiness
善待幸福
Chapter 5 Overcoming Adversity
第五部分 战胜困难
42. Happiness Through Forgiveness
宽恕带来幸福
43. Don’t Treat Me Differently
请不要区别对待我
44. Believing Anna
相信安娜
45. Battle Scars
战斗留下的伤疤
46. Up in Flames
付之一炬
47. Not Your Average Joe
我不是一般人
48. Happiness Found
我找到的幸福
49. Purple Candles
紫色的蜡烛
50. Basket Case
篮子里的负担
51. Making My Day
让自己开心
335. Meet Our Contributors
见见我们的投稿者
352. Meet Our Authors
见见我们的作者
356. About Deborah Norville
黛波拉?诺维尔简介
358. Thank You
感谢词
361.
Chicken Soup for the Soul
Improving Your Life Every Day
心灵鸡汤
每天改善你的生活
363. Share with Us
与我们一同分享
內容試閱：
It was raining the day I found out. Not just a light sprinkle, but a heavy, foggy, cold February downpour. I had spent a lazy day at Color-Me-Mine painting a teddy bear with my friends. I was twelve years old. I was starting to fit in at school. I was happy. But little did I know that was all about to change.
I came home to my ten-year-old brother watching TV and playing a video game. Just past the television was a sliding glass door leading to our patio. My dad was standing outside on the phone with his back turned towards us.
“Dad’s mad,” my brother said, not even bothering to look up from his Game Boy. I was in such a good mood from spending the day with friends that I didn’t even care to know why. I went into my bedroom and sat down at my computer, ready to spend the rest of my Saturday online. Not even two minutes later, my dad walked into the bedroom my brother and I shared, sat down, and said, “Nicole, we need to have a family meeting.” He called for my brother to come into the bedroom, and as we waited for him, my mind raced, trying to think of anything I might have done to get in trouble. It was never a good sign when he called me Nicole. My brother finally shuffled in and sat down on the bed next to my father.
Without any warning at all, he looked at me and said, “Your mom’s gone.” I didn’t understand what he meant. I didn’t want to. Everything went silent. I could hear only my own breath echoing in my ears like a bad horror movie, and I watched my dad and my brother hold each other and cry.
“You’re lying,” I said, starting to laugh. Why was I laughing? I knew they weren’t lying. My father was sitting in front of me bawling his eyes out—a grown man crying like a toddler. But I couldn’t believe him. My mother was my best friend. He handed me his cell phone and told me to call my grandmother, and that she would tell me everything I wanted to know.
I ran outside and I stood in the rain and I listened as my grandma cried and told me that my mother, my role model, my favorite person in the world, had killed herself. I was devastated. I wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn’t come. They built themselves up in my chest forming a heavy anchor, but they would not come. I hung up the phone and walked inside. My brother was back at the television; my father was outside on the phone again. Everything looked normal. It didn’t appear as if the world had just rolled over on its back. I returned to my bedroom, and did what any twelve-year-old girl would do in a situation like this: I updated my AIM status—“RIP Mom”.
And finally, the next day, I woke up crying. I cried for two weeks straight. I didn’t eat or go to school. I left the house once: for the funeral. I was guilty. I felt like I should have been a better daughter, gotten her a better birthday gift, done more chores around the house. I couldn’t stand to look at myself. Suddenly, every little thing I used to do seemed like another cause of her suicide. She killed herself because I never did what she asked. She did it because I wasn’t who she wanted me to be.
I beat myself up until there was nothing left to beat. I broke myself down so far that I could think of nothing else to do but hate myself. And that led to hating her. I hated her for leaving me. For making me feel worthless. For leaving me to take on the role of mother, of woman of the house. I was twelve years old. I needed her. How did she expect me to be raised by just my dad? Every girl needs her mother! She couldn’t just leave when things got hard! Isn’t the point of having children to be completely selfless and only think of them? I had endless thoughts, endless questions.
After two weeks, my father made me go back to school and promised me that everything would be fine. But he was wrong. Everyone knew what had happened. My friends could barely look at me. People I didn’t even know pointed at me when I walked through the halls. I couldn’t deal with the pain of everyone staring, asking questions I didn’t know how to answer. So I turned away from my friends and spent all of my time alone. I was miserable.
My mother had gone from being my best friend to my worst enemy. This was all her fault. I hated her and I hated myself.
But the problem with hatred is that it eats you up. It burrows inside every little pore in your body. It drains you of all your energy. Living with hatred is an incredibly difficult thing to do. So I started working at forgiving. Because when it comes to forgiveness, sometimes it helps you more than the person you are forgiving. My mom will never know that I forgave her. I will never be able to go up to her, look her in the eye, and say, “I forgive you.” But now, I can look myself in the mirror, and know that sometimes people are selfish. People are stupid and act without thinking. People are people and we all do things we regret, but if we are never forgiven and never forgive, we will never be able to move on in our own lives.
I took all the anger that I was feeling and I channeled it into forgiveness and understanding. Everyone deserves a second chance no matter how hard they have hurt you. I may never know the reason why she hurt me the way she did, but I don’t need to. I have forgiven her, and because of that, I can be happy.
—Nicole Guiltinan
宽恕不能改变过去，却能放大未来。
——保罗波希
我是在一个雨天知道这件事的。那天下的不是绵绵小雨，而是寒冷二月天里的一场倾盆大雨。那天，我度过了慵懒的一天，和朋友们在“五颜六色随你变”这家店里给泰迪熊上色。当时我才12岁，与同学们处得越来越融洽。我很幸福，但是那时候我丝毫不知道一切即将改变。
回到家，我10岁的弟弟正在一边看电视一边打电子游戏。电视旁边是一扇玻璃推拉门，门外是阳台，我爸爸正站在阳台上背对着我们打电话。
“爸爸疯了。”我弟弟头也不抬地说，一直盯着他的掌上游戏机。和朋友一起玩让我心情极好，所以我一点也不关心为什么。我走进卧室，坐在电脑旁边，想上上网，打发这个下午。不到两分钟，爸爸就走进我和弟弟的卧室，坐下来说道：“尼科尔，我们得开个家庭会议。”他把我弟弟也叫进卧室，我们等他的时候，我不停地想我是不是做错了什么，惹了什么麻烦。他叫我全名的时候准没有好事。弟弟终于慢吞吞地走了进来，在爸爸旁边坐下。
他看着我们，没有任何铺垫，说：“你妈妈去世了。”我不明白他在说什么。我也不想明白。整个世界都鸦雀无声了。我只能听到自己的呼吸声，就像一部拍得很烂的恐怖片一样。我看着爸爸和弟弟相拥而泣。
“你撒谎。”我说，开始大笑起来。我为什么大笑？我知道他们没说谎。我爸爸正坐在我面前失声痛哭——一个成年人哭得像个婴儿。但是我很难相信他。妈妈是我最好的朋友。他把手机递给我，让我给外婆打电话，她会告诉我我想知道的一切。
我跑了出去，站在雨中听外婆一边哭一边告诉我，我的母亲，我的偶像，世界上我最喜欢的人，自杀了。我彻底绝望了。我很想哭，但就是哭不出来。眼泪郁积在胸，牢牢地勾在那里就是不肯出来。我挂了电话，走进屋里。弟弟又在看电视了，爸爸又在外面打电话了。一切都是平时的模样，完全看不出世界已经有了翻天覆地的变化。我回到卧室，做了每个12岁女孩遇到这种事都会做的事：我把我在AIM（一款即时通信软件）上的状态改成了——“妈妈安息吧”。
第二天我是哭着醒来的。两个星期里我一直在哭。我不肯吃东西，也不去上学。我只离开过家一次：去参加葬礼。我觉得很内疚。我觉得我应该做个更好的女儿，送她一份更好的生日礼物，多帮家里干干家务。我看都不想看自己。突然，我已经习以为常的每件小事都像是她自杀的原因。她选择自杀是因为我没完成她的要求，她选择自杀是因为我没有按她要求的去做。
我一点一点地批评自己，直到已经没有什么我没批判过的了。我把自己批判得一无是处，让我只能憎恨自己。而这又让我憎恨她。我恨她离开了我，恨她让我觉得自己一文不值，恨她让我不得不当起妈妈，当起这个家的女主人。我只有12岁，我需要她。她怎么能让我只有爸爸？每个女孩子都需要妈妈！她不能在这种艰难时刻抛下我们！生养孩子不就意味着要完全无私，只为他们考虑吗？我有数不清的思绪、问不完的问题。
两周以后，爸爸强迫我回去上学，他许诺说一切都会好起来的。但是他说错了，每个人都知道发生了什么。我的朋友们都不正眼瞧我，走在大厅里总有不认识的人对我指指点点。我无法忍受每个人都盯着我看，问我无法回答的问题。于是，我和朋友疏远了，总是一个人待着。我很痛苦。
我妈妈从我最好的朋友变成了我最大的敌人。这都是她的错。我恨她，也恨我自己。
但是憎恨这种情绪会吞噬你。它会无孔不入地钻进你的身体，消耗掉你所有的能量。带着憎恨生活是件很困难的事，于是我开始努力做到宽恕，因为宽恕本身往往要比被你宽恕的那个人对你还要有好处。我妈妈永远都不会知道我原谅了她，我永远都不能和她面对面，看着她的眼睛说：“我原谅你。”但是现在，我可以看着镜子中的自己，心里明白有时候人是自私的。人不聪明，做事会不经过大脑。人非圣贤，总会做些让自己后悔的事，但是如果谁也不原谅谁，我们就永远不能继续自己的生活。
我用宽恕和理解化解了我感受到的所有愤怒。无论他们伤你多深，都应该有洗心革面的机会。我永远都不会知道她为什么要这样伤害我，但我已经不需要知道了。我已经原谅了她，所以我很幸福。
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