The first thing I have to say is that I don't believe happiness is a choice. I think people who purport that, especially to someone sad, are not only condescending but assholes as well (well-meaning assholes--maybe--but assholes nevertheless). I mean, sure, sometimes it could be a choice like for instance when something merely annoying happens, say like someone cuts you off and you're in a bad mood for the rest of the day or the barista made your drink too cold and the entire day is now unsalvageable. I tend to agree with the assholes in cases like that. To stew about something inconvenient or, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential is just silly and, yes, in my opinion, a choice.
But real unhappiness--that's a different cosa entirely: losing-a-friend unhappiness, going-through-a-breakup unhappiness, chronic-illness/pain unhappiness, the-death-of-a-pet unhappiness, clinical-depression unhappiness. These cosas are like house-burning-down unhappiness, and when your house burns to the ground, if you're unhappy, I don't think you're making a choice. If someone weren't unhappy whilst experiencing one of these things plus a host of other tragic situations, I'd think something were incredibly wrong, and if I were experiencing one of these things and someone were to tell me I should buck up because happiness is a choice, I'd want to punch them in the face twelve thousand times.
That first thing being said, I'll say the second now -
I'm choosing happiness today.
Let me tell you, though, it wasn't an easy choice because, well, can we please talk about foreboding joy? I first heard the term a little over a year ago from North Star when I was particularly happy about who remembers what (or, I'm sure, whom) and told her I was afraid to be happy because I knew something bad was sure to show up soon. What foreboding joy is, if you haven't heard of it or haven't figured it out based on my previous statement or don't want to click on my link, is a term coined by Brene Brown. According to Brown, "joy is the most terrifying, difficult emotion we feel as humans," and I have to say, she's not wrong. It sounds dumb at first because who doesn't want to feel joy? but think about it for a sec. How many times in your life has something good happened, but you didn't want to tell anyone in case it went bad? Or been afraid to acknowledge something good because you didn't want to jinx it? Or, like I'm so wont to do, refused to count your chickens and declared yourself chickenless until you were physically surrounded by baby chicks?
Brown calls this "catastrophizing," and the problem with it is that "worrying about things that haven't happened doesn't protect us from pain" because as "anyone who has experienced a tragedy [will] tell you there is no way to prepare." In short, we're so afraid if we embrace happiness, we'll feel worse than we would have if we ignored the happiness when the happiness disappears, so we don't ever truly let ourselves feel happy.
(I know. Confusing much?)
Well, I'm here to say, no more. You know what I am? Naturally? But I fight it all the time?
A chicken counter. I hate to say it, but it's true. I count my chickens. I count my chickens all the time, and not only do I count them, but forget before they've hatched, I count them when they've barely been laid. I gather them, and I count them, and goddammit, those barely laid, unhatched chickens make me happy. They make me happy, but I pretend that they don't. I pretend that they don't to other people, and because of goddamn motherfucking foreboding joy, I pretend that they don't to me, but you know what? Brene and her research subjects are absolutely right. No matter how afraid I am of letting myself be happy, when the thing I pretend isn't making me happy disappears, I feel no better than I would have if I'd just embraced the happiness out and out. Even worse? I didn't get to experience the full amount of happiness I could have because I was too busy being ready for a fiasco.
So I'll say it again. No more. I try to be blasé, but I can't. I'm just not a blasé human being. I'm excitable. I'm excitable by nature, and from here on out, that's what I'll allow myself to be: the excitable person the universe made me. I'll be excited about things even when there's no evidence that these things should excite me. If something makes me happy, the way something just happens to be making me happy right now, a feeling I've been trying so hard to fight in an effort to be realistic and responsible, I'm going to let it.
I'm going to let myself smile my stupid smile and get that happy excited feeling I get in the pit of my stomach, that visceral feeling that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with my perception of the way things are. From here on out, I choose to be as happy as I can whenever I can, and I also choose to be thankful for that happiness whenever I have it because if I'm aware of anything in this life, it's how volatile it can be.
So, yes--I totally know that tomorrow or overmorrow or the day after that or the day after that, I might be crying over a pineapple jalapeño habañero margarita, but today? Today I choose to not.
But real unhappiness--that's a different cosa entirely: losing-a-friend unhappiness, going-through-a-breakup unhappiness, chronic-illness/pain unhappiness, the-death-of-a-pet unhappiness, clinical-depression unhappiness. These cosas are like house-burning-down unhappiness, and when your house burns to the ground, if you're unhappy, I don't think you're making a choice. If someone weren't unhappy whilst experiencing one of these things plus a host of other tragic situations, I'd think something were incredibly wrong, and if I were experiencing one of these things and someone were to tell me I should buck up because happiness is a choice, I'd want to punch them in the face twelve thousand times.
That first thing being said, I'll say the second now -
I'm choosing happiness today.
Let me tell you, though, it wasn't an easy choice because, well, can we please talk about foreboding joy? I first heard the term a little over a year ago from North Star when I was particularly happy about who remembers what (or, I'm sure, whom) and told her I was afraid to be happy because I knew something bad was sure to show up soon. What foreboding joy is, if you haven't heard of it or haven't figured it out based on my previous statement or don't want to click on my link, is a term coined by Brene Brown. According to Brown, "joy is the most terrifying, difficult emotion we feel as humans," and I have to say, she's not wrong. It sounds dumb at first because who doesn't want to feel joy? but think about it for a sec. How many times in your life has something good happened, but you didn't want to tell anyone in case it went bad? Or been afraid to acknowledge something good because you didn't want to jinx it? Or, like I'm so wont to do, refused to count your chickens and declared yourself chickenless until you were physically surrounded by baby chicks?
Brown calls this "catastrophizing," and the problem with it is that "worrying about things that haven't happened doesn't protect us from pain" because as "anyone who has experienced a tragedy [will] tell you there is no way to prepare." In short, we're so afraid if we embrace happiness, we'll feel worse than we would have if we ignored the happiness when the happiness disappears, so we don't ever truly let ourselves feel happy.
(I know. Confusing much?)
Well, I'm here to say, no more. You know what I am? Naturally? But I fight it all the time?
A chicken counter. I hate to say it, but it's true. I count my chickens. I count my chickens all the time, and not only do I count them, but forget before they've hatched, I count them when they've barely been laid. I gather them, and I count them, and goddammit, those barely laid, unhatched chickens make me happy. They make me happy, but I pretend that they don't. I pretend that they don't to other people, and because of goddamn motherfucking foreboding joy, I pretend that they don't to me, but you know what? Brene and her research subjects are absolutely right. No matter how afraid I am of letting myself be happy, when the thing I pretend isn't making me happy disappears, I feel no better than I would have if I'd just embraced the happiness out and out. Even worse? I didn't get to experience the full amount of happiness I could have because I was too busy being ready for a fiasco.
So I'll say it again. No more. I try to be blasé, but I can't. I'm just not a blasé human being. I'm excitable. I'm excitable by nature, and from here on out, that's what I'll allow myself to be: the excitable person the universe made me. I'll be excited about things even when there's no evidence that these things should excite me. If something makes me happy, the way something just happens to be making me happy right now, a feeling I've been trying so hard to fight in an effort to be realistic and responsible, I'm going to let it.
I'm going to let myself smile my stupid smile and get that happy excited feeling I get in the pit of my stomach, that visceral feeling that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with my perception of the way things are. From here on out, I choose to be as happy as I can whenever I can, and I also choose to be thankful for that happiness whenever I have it because if I'm aware of anything in this life, it's how volatile it can be.
So, yes--I totally know that tomorrow or overmorrow or the day after that or the day after that, I might be crying over a pineapple jalapeño habañero margarita, but today? Today I choose to not.
