Setting: A rainy Saturday morning in August. Lounging in bed with my partner and a cat. (The other cat is asleep on top of the dresser.) I put on capri sweats and a hoodie only to realize the weather dropped around 10-15 degrees since yesterday so I added the knee high Ouija board socks my cousin gave me for a Christmas present. Now that I'm comfy, I can get serious about writing something.
You know that feeling when you're cuddling with your love (whether it be your partner, lover, child, pet) and you not only feel happy and secure but grateful for the moment? I cherish those realizations. The world may feel like it is falling apart at times. As the eight ball would say, "Outlook Not So Good." But in that moment it doesn't matter what is happening in the outside world.
I always have a hard time writing about happiness. I don't know if it is because when I'm content I don't think about writing; there's nothing I need get off my chest or hash out through words. Or is it because I'm terrified that if I talk about the good that I will in some way jinx it? I fight the superstitious thoughts that come to mind, but a Catholic upbringing really instills a lot of them.
Something always happens to ruin my sense of bliss. It may be something major like a relationship ending or something simple like having to put on a bra to leave the house. I fear being happy because I know that the other shoe is yet to drop.
My cynical standpoint on relationships is boiled down to this: Death is the best case scenario. I've discussed this with my current partner numerous times. Married or not, if a partnership lasts, the best outcome is death. With that in mind, it is hard to be happy.
Commitment doesn't scare me. I've devoted years of my life to a single person multiple times. I enjoy having a person around to share all aspects of life. Once I've deemed someone to be worth my while, I am in it for the long haul. I have no qualms about exploring all the emotions; the good and the bad. But the entire time, I keep waiting for the Thing that will destroy any future happiness.
Why must I sabotage my current happiness by worrying about this Thing? Am I protecting myself from hurt by trying to figure out what could go wrong so I can prepare for it? Or am I incapable of truly enjoying the good because my happiness has never stayed around forever?
But if joy were perpetual, would it truly be euphoria? Or is the fact that happiness is fleeting the thing that makes it so sweet? I've always subscribed to "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." I will have to remember that when I start to demolish my delight.
There's an unfortunate theme that will (probably) continue to show up in my writing: fear. I give advice to others and tell them to do what they want now because life is short. If you're not happy, change your life so you are. This change could be taking action to alter your circumstances or just a different way to think about life. I need to take my own advice. To learn to live in the moment. To revel in the pleasure while it exists instead of worrying about this amorphous (currently non-existent) Thing that could show up and shatter the elation.
Originally published on my private blog on 08/27/2016. It has been slightly altered to change punctuation and some sentences have been bolded for emphasis.
~The Overstimulated