Unlearned Happiness

      Yesterday I woke up ok. I didn't have the grappling concern over all the problems of the world, real or imaginary. I had slept well - possibly had had pleasant dreams - and I woke up calmly and slowly. It was a strange feeling for me and it didn't feel familiar. My day usually starts with a need to calm myself with writing, meditation and sometimes tears. It's like my mental alarm clock is a ticking bomb that I have to diffuse early in the morning in order for me to be able to have a relatively smooth day without any extreme inner struggles. I've been feeling this deep morning depression/anxiety for over 2 years, so it's very strange when I don't feel it. And instead of relaxing, my body goes into full alert of waiting for when the fridge will fall on my head.

   Another strange thing happened as well, though not unfamiliar. I was in a situation where everything was ok, in fact, everything was fantastic and propitious for clean, healthy fun, the type your belly aches from laughter. Now, what happens in my body when I am in a situation like that is also to go on full alert. I'm not used to feeling safe. I'm not used to having fun. In a strange way, most of the fun in my life is derived from some sort of adrenaline rush like radical sports or unstable relationships. In other words, my nervous system feels safe when I'm moving, solving, fighting, negotiating or overcoming some sort of adversity on my own. I guess it's a danger I can control (or I think I can) so I feel safe in some sort of sick way. 

   What happens when I am actually safe and well is that it feels wrong and unfamiliar. If I have no danger to face I feel instantly lost and small. It's hard to describe what happens to me, so I'll try to give you a mental picture. It's like my cognitive self, the little person in my brain that is in charge of protecting me will recede and put herself in my third eye, like right between my forehead. I feel like it's going on overdrive and my eyes will start looking in all directions simultaneously, except into the safe person's eyes. Yes, I am terrified of looking in someone's eyes when I am in that state of alarm, which ironically happens when I am safe. 

   Maybe if you picture those episodes of black mirror of the little versions of us living in the brain, you can get a mental picture. I call this version of me "La neorotica". It helps if I bring some humor into it. I know she is trying to protect me, but I just need her to take a nap so I can actually experience the feelings of safety and happiness in my body and let them slowly integrate into my psyche. 

   I read somewhere that we must learn to be sad in order to learn to be happy. It's a balance. I feel I have gotten good at giving space to my grief, and now I make that same effort to give space to my joy. When I feel it, I breathe it in, I acknowledge it with gratitude and I welcome it with patience. Patience because she must come slowly. Just like falling in love should be something gentle and calm, falling in happiness is also slow. We can't force it and make it happen, but we can surrender to it when it's there and give it as much space as we can. 

  Nobody can be forced to feel "happy", even if the circumstances are perfect. Just like all emotions, they come when they come. We don't know what is going on inside someone's mind. May we be more gentle with ourselves so we can also be more gentle with others. All things can be learned, but everyone learns in a different speed. I'm still a toddler in learning happiness, but I have my whole life, so I'm not in a hurry.