Some thoughts about happiness or lack thereof

I’m sitting here, looking up at the branches of this beautiful tree _ the leaves are rustling steadily in the summer breeze of this exceptionally perfect day _ and I am not happy. I don’t understand how a sight that made me smile just a few months ago, has now no power to ignite even a speck of joy. “I should be happy”, I think. Why can’t I remember how to be happy? Like .. how is it done? 

If happiness comes from within then why can’t I create it in times of need? Why are outer circumstances stronger than I am – the supposed happiness creator.

Lots of mundane things bring me joy. I’m simple that way. It’s probably why I am usually a pretty content individual. The sound of crickets, the smell of fresh-cut grass, my morning coffee, a baby’s chubby cheeks, pretty sun rays, a parking spot in Manhattan.

Alas, I am in the midst of a transitional phase I did not anticipate. A phase of required emotional adjustments on my part. A time of change. [ A break-up with someone I thought I would grow old with. Chemo companion for a best friend. Another BFF with cancer and now a hole in her heart. My teenage daughter moving across the globe to go to college. ]

It’s been weeks now of dark clouds over my head as I frantically try to stay so busy that I have no other choice but to ignore the collection of uncomfortable realities around me. Unfortunately, my usually terrible-at-multitasking type of brain seems to be excellent at concurrently juggling depression and everything else. 

I know this sadness won’t last – because, for one – I am grateful to report – this isn’t clinical, but also, as I’ve been learning or not learning – but always the hard way: nothing lasts forever. … Then again, there are plenty things that last forever. So maybe the saying should go most things don’t last forever.. not very poetic.

A few days ago I dreamed that I lost some of my front teeth. I tried so hard to wake myself up in the dream … hoping to realize that it isn’t real, but I couldn’t. So I had to sit with the perceived reality that my teeth were coming loose into my hands until I finally woke to my alarm – my blessed, usually despised 6:45a.m. alarm.

Losing teeth in a dream usually means the loss of something important.
Didn’t need anyone interpreting that for me. 

A few summers ago, I was equally depressed as I recovered from a could-have-been-prevented-had-I-listened-my-inner-guidance heart-break, but I cannot actually remember or even relate to the sorrow of that time. I don’t know how it felt. .... So * – will I, one day, also not remember the overwhelming sadness I am feeling now? How long will it be until this is just a memory, something in the distant past? It seems so hard to imagine when you’re fully experiencing the grief of the moment.  And while I contemplate these questions, I remind myself: This too shall pass. …. This too shall pass.

* i was going to say "I wonder", but I'm not trying to pretend to be Carrie Bradshaw over here. Although - my Gosh, I wish I had that gorgeous Gramercy Park apartment she gets in the new (they're all in their 50s now) season.

you should do this

If someone were to ask you to describe the perfect day in a most perfect future, would you be able to do it? I've heard about this exercise and its seemingly magical power a few times now, but who finally convinced me to sit down and do, it was a guest on the Tim Ferriss show (if you're not listening to Tim's podcast, you're missing out on some truly deep and enlightening conversations).

Debbie Millman talked about not only her own success with this exercise, but also reports how many of her students, whom she has assigned said exercise to, reconnect years later to, incredulously, share how their perfect dream lives have become reality.

I already know how certain visualizations can manifest themselves, however, I've never gone to this specific extreme. I have to say, even though I was convinced I needed to do this exercise, I found myself at a loss of what my perfect day 5 years from now would look like. I suppose, it may have been due to fear of wishing for the wrong thing (like when I desperately wished to meet my soulmate, forgetting that I was already married. Not only did the manifestation of this dream ruin my marriage, it also "trapped" me in a deeply dependent love with someone who was highly dysfunctional and ultimately lost the battle with his demons, leaving me devastated and in grief for years.)
I also had just passed a paragraph in Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love, introducing a character who, for several years prayed for nothing but an open heart and then received his wish ... in the form of open heart surgery. So, I was a tiny bit apprehensive.

But, the other day, I finally decided I'm just going to sit down and let it flow out of me, with care and consideration, but without fear. I ended up writing for almost three hours. I couldn't believe it when I looked up at the clock. Furthermore, I had immersed myself so deeply into the writing of my dream day of the future, that I actually felt the moments of the day. I experienced love and excitement, an increase in my heart rate, a warmth in my chest, a shot of adrenaline and dopamine. I was so deep in, that I found myself disoriented when "my day" came to an end and I put the pen down.

Even if nothing becomes true, it was an amazing feeling to write this perfect day of 2022. Even just for that, it was worth doing it.

Now - I wait and see, I guess. Wait and see and keep moving.

happiness is subjective...

what is wrong with me? i should be happy. my kids are healthy. my family is healthy. I am (relatively) healthy. D can be annoying but really he isn't that bad as a husband. his weaknesses are bearable, so to say, even though I seem to not be able to bear them anymore.
there are people out there that have no homes, have to watch their kids die, their parents,.... there are people out there with problems, which make my complaints sound silly, stupid, ridiculous..but most of all, selfish.

this realization brings me to tears sometimes. almost every day, actually...when I see misery, injustice, or someone suffering I cry (silently) and curse at myself for being such a self-involved, spoiled little bitch. how dare I complain about my life?

then I wonder, ...am I also crying because I am overly sensitive thanks to an all underlying repressed depression?

ah, crap....I said I wasn't gonna go there...I wanted to return to light-hearted, mundane BS-kinda blogging.
well, ..just for the record (to acknowledge that this isn't an all depressive entry)...I also find pleasure in all the sadness I experience. I thank God for letting me experience or witness so much compassion and for letting me recognize so many ambivalent, rich, sad, deep and thought-provoking moments.

i wish I could express myself better (in English, anyway).

ok. I'll try to be less depressing with my next entry.