Lesson 3: Being okay with finding happiness
I’m not the cleanest or most organized person. I’m willing to admit that most of the time my bedroom floor is cluttered with the clothes I’ve worn over the previous week. Also adorning my bedroom floor for the last six months: Several boxes filled with toys and kid shit (this is a technical term) that got thrown together in a frenzy of clean-up before guests came over. I finally found the motivation to clear those boxes this last weekend, and all the clothes got put away, so, suddenly, there is all of this extra space. You’d think that having this uncluttered space would be a relief. There is room to move and I no longer have to worry about tripping over things as I stumble my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. But I don’t feel any of those things. On the contrary: I feel anxious every time I glance at this open space.
This time of the year has become difficult since 2017. Facebook bombards me with reminders of the excruciating decision to move to KC, and the subsequent giving up of moving back to Portland. Those feelings come flooding back and sometimes feel as raw as they were in that moment. At the same time, I take a look at the life I’ve created for myself in Missouri, and there is so much good. I’ve built a life here, slowly filling it with pleasant memories, special places, people that I love, and genuinely good things.
But.
Much like clearing out those boxes in my room, I find that I am often too overwhelmed, too tired, and, sometimes, too lazy to do the work of sorting through my grief. When it comes down to it, these are really all excuses, because the honest truth is, I’m mostly just scared. No, I’m not scared of uncomfortable, painful emotions, or moving through sadness – I am a four and a therapist, after all. I’m scared to be without those difficult emotions. I’m scared of not being sad. I’m not scared of hurting.
I’m scared of being happy.
Happiness is open space and possibility. It’s the acknowledgment of finding the things that we want (and being okay with wanting things has been a re-education in and of itself) and accepting that we are deserving of those things. And happiness is an invitation for disappointment and loss. Every single one of these things is fucking terrifying.
I have spent so much of my life being afraid of finding happiness. Those damn Buddhists are right: Happiness is fleeting and cannot be divorced from sadness. My solution: Stay 6 feet away from happiness and avoid the torment of grief. Uh, wrong, Amy. Loss happens anyway. Disappointment hurts anyway. Sadness clutters boxes on the floor anyway. My room isn’t immaculate, even now. But there’s a little more space for more good things.
What the hell does this have to do with quarantine? A lot. I’m being forced to wrestle with grief and disappointment, but mixed in there is the opportunity to be happy. And no, I’m not talking about any sort of positive vibes/silver lining shit. I’m talking about true happiness. The good things that have happened or are happening that, even when sadness gets mixed in, do not lose their potency. I completed my master’s degree. I found a community of people that I miss spending time with while we’re in lockdown. I’ve grown into more of who I was always meant to be.
Maybe happiness will only happen in small moments for a while, as we continue to live through this pandemic. But I’d like to make space for it anyway.
