The funny thing about happiness is I always think it's right around the bend. When I get to high school I'll be happy. When I graduate high school and get to the freedom of college I'll be happy. When I can just graduate from college and not have the constant financial concerns and demands on my mind I'll be happy. When and if... those two words can deceive me and keep me from realizing that happiness occurs in moments, not in wide spans of time. Just like I'm not always sad, not always mad, I will not always be happy. And I miss out on happiness by constantly waiting for it to arrive.
It's funny when I look back across my life and realize what were true times of happiness. The happiest time in my life was when I was an undergraduate and finally found a home in my college's English department studying Literature and Humanities, and moved into my first apartment by myself. I absolutely loved my studies, interaction with professors and time spent learning with other students. Having my own place to live was a tremendous boost to this introvert. But that period of time was also my toughest, because I was having trouble balancing life with anxiety and mood disorders that were untreated and undiagnosed along with working and paying for the expenses of living and being a student. Isn't it ironic that the best and worst experiences can coincide right there and run parallel to one another giving an impression of that period of time in one's life which might not be accurate.
And then in the last year of my undergraduate studies I met the man that I would marry. A relationship of that importance was totally unexpected and made me deeply happy. I sensed that I was accepted for and loved for who I was and that I could be myself - something that I wasn't accustomed to feeling. The moments of pure elation were also mixed in with the stresses of a last year of school and living four hours apart and planning our relatively simple wedding, then moving me, and then discovering how to live well with this other person. Again, my months of happiness were actually made up of moments squeezed in between the normal stressors that someone would encounter in that situation.
“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.” This quote is attributed on GoodReads.com to Theodore Roosevelt. I find much wisdom in these words, but again, knowing something and practicing it are entirely different matters. The things that have really mattered to me - my education, my marriage, my family - are not always easy to take care of, and are not effortless, but they lead to a life that I am more proud of and value more.
In my work to figure out who I am and what matters to me, I can look back on a variety of happy memories, and some I have had to have Kyle relive for me because I can't remember them. I no longer remember my wedding day, but I can see in the pictures of that a day that I was genuinely happy. I wasn't just putting on a mask of being ok. I completely basked in the joy I felt that day. Just a month earlier I graduated with my Bachelors degree that I had worked so hard for. That was a moment of true joy and happiness as well. Again, a picture tells me that my happiness was felt in my heart.
Learning to feel has been a challenge to me over the course of my treatment for depression and anxiety. It's very tempting to want to block out feelings that are unhappy, uncomfortable and that make me uneasy. But, as I've learned over time and through reading the research of Dr. Brene Brown, we can't block out the bad without blocking out the good, too. I find this incredibly true of myself. I get irritated because I get so apathetic about everything from going to see a friend, the holidays or even bigger events. I'm alive enough to go through the motions, but I'm not really living in these moments. Without memories, experiences and moments that are felt, life can be quite empty.
Of course, Mr. Robin Williams is on almost everyone's minds this week as we learn that he hanged himself and had been suffering severe depression. A common refrain is, "Why would he kill himself? He had so much to live for!" I can't pretend to understand the depression that others experience. I don't even understand my own a great deal of the time. But I do see how the happiness and joy of life can be buried by the sadness and pain and the way it can become possible to feel that it will never go away again, or to even care if it will. Williams' death has given me and many others a moment to reflect on our lives and what they mean. He gives us an opportunity to ask what it's all for. And if the answer is nothing, then it's an indicator that assistance is needed and a better way of living is necessary to keep from going down that same path.
I have a necklace that I used to wear quite frequently. It simply says "Hope". I wore it as a constant reminder that there is always hope to be had. But in 2013 I stopped wearing it. I felt incredibly hopeless, especially once my treatments didn't show the promise they once held. Everything was bleak, and nothing held meaning. "I don't care" was a standard answer to most questions about what I wanted to do, eat or see. Nothing mattered. Hope had faded along with the silver lining. I'm beginning to think, after registering for classes last week, that it's time to start wearing the "Hope" necklace again.
Lately, life looks brighter, and not just metaphorically. For me, my world literally gets lighter when I am in a better place and dimmer when I'm in a worse place. Right now it is brighter, and I am taking note of the moments of happiness and realizing that IS happiness. It's not a precursor to it. That is it! I grab onto it. Maybe I write it down in my journal or snap a shot and share it with friends on Facebook hoping to spread joy to them, as well. And happiness doesn't have to be anything big.
Saturday was a wonderful day for me. There was nothing special about it. Kyle and I did a little grocery shopping, which I actually hate to do, but it was nice to spend the time together. Then Kyle mowed the lawn and I got a few things done in the house. He decided not to go into the office that day and would instead go Sunday. And so randomly I suggested we play Trivial Pursuit. Since we have a smidge of an age difference, (only 19 years), we sparred over whether we would play the 80s version that he would be more familiar with or the 90s version that would be better for me. We finally decided to play both and have a sort of tournament. In the end he won the 80s and I won the 90s. We had a great time laughing about pieces of culture, history and movies we had completely forgotten, and it helped remind me of some of those same things that I had forgotten due to treatments. We ribbed each other for not knowing answers, too. We played for hours and it was delightful.
As we got into bed that night I said to him, "I'm really happy tonight. That was a lot of fun." I don't even know the last time I truly felt anything that much. I took it as a good sign, but a little terrifying, too. If you feel one feeling, then you have to feel them all when they occur. But part of this is knowing I have the ability to handle things well and with some skills I've been learning. I could get anxious and spend hours thinking about what it means and whether a really good day means I'm starting to feel too good and maybe swinging to the high side of the disorder. But maybe after a really crummy couple of years, a one really good day feels over the top good. I think I'm just going to take it for what it is - a terrific day of spending time with a husband with whom I share many interests and who loves me as much as I love him. That is happiness. And it's enough to get me through the rough spots to the next patch of happiness and joy.
*I apologize if this has any grammar or spelling issues. Writing at 4am when I can't sleep can be hard on my writing skills. :)
