One Hundred Days of Happiness

I want to be happy. That is the biggest desire in my life, to reach a place where in my existence where I can live In happiness. It feels like a hard goal to reach. So many things threaten to break my smile or darken my days. So many things leave me stressed and agitated and worried. At times it feels like I don't have the space in my world to be happy. Life takes over and the chaos can making living from day to day less about joy and more about survival. But even as I succumb to the routine of waking up, going to work and going to sleep, the thought of happiness still lingers in my mind. I subconsciously search for it, taking little moments of pleasure and trying to make it last for as long as it can. 

Recently, while searching the web I came across the hashtag #100happydays and I wanted to know the meaning behind it. I googled it and a website came up, 100happydays.com which explained that this was a personal challenge. This isn't a contest or some way to show off. It's you, showing gratitude for the things that bring you joy in your life and acknowledging that for 100 days. You do this by sharing a picture each day of something you are happy for. This challenge is supposed to help us find it easier to see the positives in our everyday stressful and chaotic lives. It's about making a conscious effort to find happiness and becoming aware of it. Even though I'm doing this on Instagram (search loloroxxx) I've decided to go into detail about my image choices on my blog and the reason it makes me happy. 

Day one: a note. 

First off I want to say that my older siblings have some amazing children. They are smart and sweet and beautiful and caring and I love them dearly. I don't see them nearly enough. This note was written when I went to visit my sister in Pennsylvania. My trips to PA are always a source of joy for me. I love seeing my nieces and nephew as they go through various stages in their lives, transforming from short, crawling cherubs that are quick to smile and hug me, to tall gorgeous individuals with interests and personalities unique to them. My sister's oldest child, a young girl who shares my love of books and writing wrote this for me because I wrote her an encouraging note. I wanted her to know that I believe in her and that I want her to never stop being herself. 

She handed the letter to me before I left and I hugged her and read it on the way back home and felt a warmth in my heart. Months passed by and I forgot about the note, replacing it instead with the thoughts of work. Then one day when cleaning out my bookcase I discovered in one of my favorite books (The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon) my niece's kind words. Her words were so simple. She had a great time with me and wanted me to come back soon. Already she missed me. That is the first thing I thought of today, when musing about what makes me happy. A thoughtful note from a loved one can shine some light on such a dreary day. It could make a bad day much better. It could remind us that we matter in the world and that our existence is not overlooked. This is exactly what my niece's note did for me. It reminded me that I am loved and thought of. That's definitely sometching to be happy about.

 

The Solitary Act of Coping.

There is a pattern to my emotional coping. It goes like this:

Feel an overwhelming negative emotion. 

Shuts down. 

Stops contact with family and friends.

Removes self from the world.

Brood.

Hypothesize.

Accept.

Starts contact again.

Slowly reemerges back into the world. 

And the cycle continues. 

I'm not the kind of person who, when I'm feeling angry or sad, chooses to share my sadness or anger. I remove myself and I become solitary. I let my mind work out its response to the trigger of my emotions. I let my body come back to its plateau. Because when I feel those emotions the first thing my body does is tense up. I feel the anger radiate through me. Or the sadness squeeze my gut and dry my throat. The sensations take over and all that I am becomes angry or sad. My mind begins to replay the trigger events and I'm stuck in that moment. I can't get away from it. And so if a person were to interact with me all they'd get is the residue of my anger or sorrow. 

That's a lot to put on a person. 

Especially someone who I care about and who did nothing wrong. So I isolate myself until I feel like me again. For a long time I believed this was the way to function. I didn't even bother to look at it from the other standpoint. How can my friends, my family ever claim to know me if they don't really "know" me? Which is to say, how can they get a sense of who I am if every time something affects me negatively, I run away? I'm perfectly ok with seeing my friends angry or sad. In fact I make it my duty to try and help. I am the shoulder to cry on, the calm voice of reason and reassurance. I tell them that I'm there if they need me. And yet I would rather face the unpleasant parts of myself alone than let my loved ones do the same for me. 

I can argue and say that what I do is a sign of love. I'd rather deal with it alone than burden my friends. But what I'm really doing is alienating the people I care about at a time when I may need them the most. What I do is make them feel inadequate, unable to really understand me or my emotions because I am constantly pushing them away. I'm creating a barrier between my friends and myself. However thin that barrier may be, it's there and it affects the way I interact with them and how closely I let them into my lives. What I'm really doing is hiding my vulnerability. I don't want them to see me hurt. I don't want them to witness my rage. So I hide my feelings and ultimately I hide myself from those closest to me. 

This is an act of cowardice, not valor. I'm afraid the people I love won't like what they see. I'm afraid they'll see me at my most fragile moments and abandon me, unable to cope with my emotional state. I don't even take account of the fact that I've seen them in various emotional states and I care about them anyway. I just assume that I'm not good enough to stick around for. 

It's almost silly how the way I deal with other people doesn't seem to qualify for me. It's as if I view myself as a different species, not quite human, not quite important enough to fully love and accept. It's crazy how I push the people I care about away.  But I think just writing about this is a step in the right direction. I've been hiding too long. Posting my little grievances on my social media site is one thing. Letting someone I care about see me when I'm not all together is quite another. But I will do this. Because they trust me enough to let me see their tears. They trust me enough to let me in when they are at their worst. I should do the same. They are worth that much. They are worth so much more.