I wish I had a filter for social media to hide all of the “Choose Happiness” type posts right now. You know what I’m talking about… the things that say there’s always people/things/events in life that don’t go the way we want or that might make us angry, etc. but that ultimately we can choose to rise above it all and JUST BE HAPPY. Usually these are accompanied by generic images of pretty scenery or some new-agey type graphics.
I know there are some people who really benefit from mindsets like that. But for some of us, the implication that if we’re unhappy, we’re choosing to be so, is harmful and unhelpful.
While I do believe that we all have a choice in how we respond to what life throws our way (to an extent – some people have more choices than others, some of which are steeped heavily in social/racial/economic inequalities), I also believe that sometimes happiness itself is simply not a choice. If someone is going through something that is difficult, painful, hurtful, unjust, traumatic… happiness is not necessarily the most appropriate emotion for them to be focused on. To say that someone should elevate the pursuit of happiness above all other emotions is to ignore what it means to be human, the spectrum of emotions and experiences.
Right now, the most prominent emotion I feel in life day-in and day-out is grief. That grief often brings with it frustration and the inability to concentrate and other related effects. Am I working on/with/through my grief? Yes. I’m doing a lot of very hard work around my grief. I’m in therapy. I talk to friends. I write. I am actively trying to figure out how to create a future for myself that doesn’t include Sara or George. But that doesn’t change the fact that the result of catastrophic, traumatic change in my life last year is overwhelming grief. It is hard to be happy in the face of such grief.
In spite of my general unhappiness, I like to think I’m not an unpleasant person. I still find things to smile, laugh and feel excited about. I still have empathy for others. I have moments of peace on occasion and can still appreciate sunsets, cuddles with my dogs, and a good conversation with a friend. Some days I feel a sense of satisfaction at having accomplished something notable at work. But my grief? My sadness? It’s always there. It’s incredibly heavy and I always feel it.
I am fortunate enough to be a relatively resilient person. But believing that I have the emotional/mental/social skills and tools and resources to survive what happened and keep going is not the same as being happy.
I am not the same person I was before. Right now, I often don’t feel happy… and I’m okay with that. I expect that as time continues on, my grief and I will settle into an agreed upon routine, and that it will be easier (and more appropriate) for me to focus on happiness and how my life is moving forward. But I can’t force that or rush it. I have to feel all my feelings and do the work and linger in the darkness for as long as is necessary.
Am I choosing to be unhappy? I guess some could argue that. I am choosing to really process what happened to me, to FEEL it. I could put on a fake happiness front, “fake it till I make it” or go into full denial mode and just ignore the trauma I went through…. but I don’t believe that would be in my best interests. Sometimes, I think that choosing happiness is actually the least healthy thing someone can do.
Two days ago I was dealt another blow when my music group of five years was canceled indefinately. I went outside to take a walk, in tears, and my neighbor saw me. I said “I’m so sad.” She said “Don’t be sad! Don’t you feel moments of joy?” and threw her arms out to the blue sky. She knows that my husband died less than 4 months ago. I could not believe it. No one has been that insensitive since then. I had been looking forward to being physically closer with her family at some point, as they are friendly and the kid likes me. I don’t even know how to describe my feelings at that point, but I walked down, around the busy lake, crying the whole way. It’s one loss after another, and nothing changes that fact. Even the blue skies and pink clematis and “moments of joy.”
I don’t think when we’re deep in grief that we can “choose” anything. We’re existing, and hopefully doing more than just reacting. But still a long way from choosing the way we’d like to be, when we feel ready to be that way. It is so important (I think) just to feel into what comes to you, try to understand it, but don’t deflect. It’s 13 months for me, and I thought it would be better, but it’s not so much. Yes, there are days when I function and can feel the gratitude for existence and the hope for what’s to come. But always there is an underlying buzz of grief for him, for what we had, for who we are. And I just MISS that. I know it won’t return, but I still miss it, and miss him. Trenton, just monitor the journey (as you do in such beautiful articulation and language), and know you are passing through and will emerge into a larger journey that your soul knows you can take. And probably wants to take.