Fight to be happy. In other cultures, this is a common mentality. Yet in the USA I've noticed a strange entitlement as though it is the world that is required to make people happy and not the individual responsibility.
From my experience happiness isn't created outside of the self and happiness cannot be bought, nor found, nor given. It is rather a determination of will power to find joy in common things. When I wake up I make myself a promise to be happy no matter what.
There are times when this isn't easy. When my sister died, it seemed a little absurd to try and find things to be happy about in the midst of grief but I did discover it was possible. I was happy to know so many people cared. Happy to know she wasn't alone when she passed. Happy her children had the chance to say goodbye.
In the average day to day though, it is in the little blessings where I find happiness the most. I love the sound of Messy's nails tapping on the floor as she follows me around from one room to another. I love watching her tail wag and the toothy open mouth grin she gives me midst her running around finding new things to sniff.
Happiness requires focusing on life's little pleasures and small accomplishments, even in the face of larger tragedies, disappointments, and failures.
While I believe it is important to honor one's dark and painful emotions, I think it is important to remember emotions are not substantial and do not reflect reality.
A few months ago a relative of mine blew his brains out. This was the third suicide in my family in about two years.
Depression tells lies, anger exaggerates, and sorrow forgets every other joy.
All emotions are important but important does not determine destiny.
Losing Art February 20, 2006, dragged a knife through my soul leaving a wound that still bleeds every year on that day.
When he died, I wanted desperately to crawl into his grave and give up breath and life and my future just to be near his remains even if that meant closing my eyes to never open them again.
Grief sent me on a path of self-destruction and I did die for a few moments. The medical professional had to tell my fifteen-year-old cousin who drove me to the hospital I was dead.
Her breathing stopped, her face went white and while I wanted more than anything to slip away I couldn't hurt her like that. I couldn't let that same dagger of death strike my mother, my sisters, my father, as had torn my soul when Art died so I returned.
From there I had to fight each day to pull myself out of the pit of despair, I'd let the agony of losing him dig. It wasn't easy. My best friend, my love, my only anchor was gone. The one person in the world who truly understood me had been ripped out of my life.
I no longer lived for myself I lived for others and cared not what happened to me. I married in a haze of apathy. I was a zombie. Breathing because I knew only if I stopped it would cause pain to those I loved.
My existence had narrowed to a single point of loss. Time, however, has a way of burying the past and growing new things from the old.
Though I hadn't done anything to move on, I also hadn't tried to hold on either. I was a ghost in my life but seeds blew into my heart that time planted around the grave of loss.
Many people came into my life warming away the chill winter of death that haunted me. Spring returned through their love and empathy. Out of the love and support of many, I was reborn.
I don't know what my life would look like if I hadn't fallen into that pit of despair and I suppose everyone is allowed one long period of sorrow in which they wallow but on the other side of the canyon of hell I make new choices when I face loss. I accept that sorrow comes but I no longer allow it to linger or hold me in its grip.
Instead, I fight. I don't fight to push grief down or away instead I fight to see outside of it. I choose to embrace the fruits born of the charred ground. I choose to nurture the seedlings of new growth and celebrate the space loss makes for possibility.
For more on Happiness:
From my experience happiness isn't created outside of the self and happiness cannot be bought, nor found, nor given. It is rather a determination of will power to find joy in common things. When I wake up I make myself a promise to be happy no matter what.
There are times when this isn't easy. When my sister died, it seemed a little absurd to try and find things to be happy about in the midst of grief but I did discover it was possible. I was happy to know so many people cared. Happy to know she wasn't alone when she passed. Happy her children had the chance to say goodbye.
In the average day to day though, it is in the little blessings where I find happiness the most. I love the sound of Messy's nails tapping on the floor as she follows me around from one room to another. I love watching her tail wag and the toothy open mouth grin she gives me midst her running around finding new things to sniff.
Happiness requires focusing on life's little pleasures and small accomplishments, even in the face of larger tragedies, disappointments, and failures.
While I believe it is important to honor one's dark and painful emotions, I think it is important to remember emotions are not substantial and do not reflect reality.
A few months ago a relative of mine blew his brains out. This was the third suicide in my family in about two years.
Depression tells lies, anger exaggerates, and sorrow forgets every other joy.
All emotions are important but important does not determine destiny.
Losing Art February 20, 2006, dragged a knife through my soul leaving a wound that still bleeds every year on that day.
When he died, I wanted desperately to crawl into his grave and give up breath and life and my future just to be near his remains even if that meant closing my eyes to never open them again.
Grief sent me on a path of self-destruction and I did die for a few moments. The medical professional had to tell my fifteen-year-old cousin who drove me to the hospital I was dead.
Her breathing stopped, her face went white and while I wanted more than anything to slip away I couldn't hurt her like that. I couldn't let that same dagger of death strike my mother, my sisters, my father, as had torn my soul when Art died so I returned.
From there I had to fight each day to pull myself out of the pit of despair, I'd let the agony of losing him dig. It wasn't easy. My best friend, my love, my only anchor was gone. The one person in the world who truly understood me had been ripped out of my life.
I no longer lived for myself I lived for others and cared not what happened to me. I married in a haze of apathy. I was a zombie. Breathing because I knew only if I stopped it would cause pain to those I loved.
My existence had narrowed to a single point of loss. Time, however, has a way of burying the past and growing new things from the old.
Though I hadn't done anything to move on, I also hadn't tried to hold on either. I was a ghost in my life but seeds blew into my heart that time planted around the grave of loss.
Many people came into my life warming away the chill winter of death that haunted me. Spring returned through their love and empathy. Out of the love and support of many, I was reborn.
I don't know what my life would look like if I hadn't fallen into that pit of despair and I suppose everyone is allowed one long period of sorrow in which they wallow but on the other side of the canyon of hell I make new choices when I face loss. I accept that sorrow comes but I no longer allow it to linger or hold me in its grip.
Instead, I fight. I don't fight to push grief down or away instead I fight to see outside of it. I choose to embrace the fruits born of the charred ground. I choose to nurture the seedlings of new growth and celebrate the space loss makes for possibility.
For more on Happiness:
And there are 2 people who love you at the 9 o’clock spot in the bottom picture. You are never far far from our thoughts. You will endure... you will rise above the emotional clutter... you will live!
ReplyDeleteNice hat Doug...lol.
DeleteMy first thought of the day is,"I am happy".
ReplyDelete