Bring on the joy, please

I think I might be depressed. No, it’s not that, not exactly. I think it’s the seasonal affective disorder, which, in recent years, hasn’t plagued me past December. So, why is it full steam ahead with the SAD this year? (For those who don’t know, SAD is the acronym for seasonal affective disorder.)

I can’t seem to get out from under this ginormous snow cloud for more than a day, and even those are few and far between. I’ve been taking my meds mostly regularly. I missed them today because I slept through the day. If I hadn’t forced myself to get up, I’d still be sleeping. My guess is that I could probably sleep around the clock. In any case, I take the highest daily dose possible of Prozac and I take half the highest dose allowable for Wellbutrin. I also take quite an assortment of extra vitamins and other supplements to ensure I’m getting whatever it is my brain and body need.

Wait. That. That just sparked a thought.

I’m getting whatever it is my brain and body need. (If, of course, you don’t count the exercise I’m not doing.) What about my mental health? What about my soul? What am I doing to make sure they get what they need? Mostly, I’m not. I was, but I stopped. The only things I’ve continued doing are my Healing Pathway sessions and my therapy sessions, and my guess is that it’s these things that have been “saving” me, so far, or more to the point, keeping me almost steady most of the time.

There’s a block somewhere inside me, a block that is stopping me from doing the things I know I need to do, the things I love to do because they make me feel good. A healthy day for me includes time in the morning to just be, and to pray, and to journal, and to meditate. A healthy day for me includes listening to a podcast while exercising, but I haven’t done this in months. Many months. A healthy day for me includes a nightly routine of meditation, reading, journaling, praying, and, sometimes, listening to a sleep podcast.

I haven’t been doing any of these things. Why? Why haven’t I been doing them? Why do I always stop myself from doing what is best for me? Like last night, I stayed up much later than needed watching Call the Midwife. I’m enjoying the show, but not to the point where I want or need to miss sleep to watch it. I don’t think it’s about the show at all. I think there’s something inside me that doesn’t want to be okay, that doesn’t want to be healthy in mind, body, and soul, but I don’t know what it is or where it comes from. I do know it’s always been there. Sometimes it quiets down for a month or two, but it always comes back. So, what is it? Or, more precisely, who is it? Who’s inside of me stopping me from doing what I need to do and from being who I need to be?

That sounds crazy, but it’s not. I don’t think it is, but I could, of course, be wrong.

There are plenty of other versions of me inside, some of them I’ve gotten to know, and I’ve become “one” with, so to speak, but clearly others are still there waiting for me to find them. I’m talking about my shadow selves, and the selves who went through the different traumas. I spent years hiding from the world and from myself. I don’t want to do that anymore. I thought I was finally at a point where I had healed most traumas, dug them up, faced them, made peace with them, and moved forward from them. But not all, clearly.

Last night, I remembered why I’m afraid to smile, afraid to laugh, afraid to be happy. “What do you have to smile about? Get that grin off your face before I smack it off.” I remember being on the carousel at one of the fairs back home when I was little. Old Home Week. It was quite exciting. I remember being on the carousel and I remember laughing and smiling until I saw my parents. They were standing with other people, but I don’t remember who and I stopped smiling. I was afraid to let them see me having fun. I don’t know why. (Please note that this is not about my parents. I love my parents. They have pure hearts.) I don’t know why I was like that; I don’t know where it came from, but I know that’s when it started. I purposefully stopped myself from smiling or laughing or showing any signs of pleasure and happiness. And I’ve continued doing it.

Expressions of joy make me uncomfortable. They scare me. I remember once when my ex-husband got his dream job position, and he was so excited! Like jump up and down excited and I think he needed me to be like that too, but I couldn’t. I said I was happy for him, and I was happy for him, but I didn’t know how to let myself show it like he did. I’m not sure how to explain it except to say that it’s like not wanting people to see your crying face; well, I’m terrified of people seeing my genuinely joy-filled happy face. My first thought is that it feels embarrassing, like they’re seeing me naked or something. I feel awkward, and I feel “wrong” somehow, like I have no right to be participating in the happiness.

I’m wondering if anyone else ever feels like that, like they can’t show their true happy selves to others because it’s too intimate, too scary. As I say this, I realize that I shared absolutely everything with my ex, probably way more than he wanted me to share, so why wasn’t I able to show that level of excitement or joy with him? Or with anyone for that matter, not family, not friends, and not strangers.

It's weird to me because I think people are at their most beautiful when they’re genuinely smiling or laughing or feeling joy. You know those pictures that catch people in the middle of a joyous laugh? The ones with their faces scrunched, their eyes alight, and their mouths wide open? I think that’s when they’re at their most beautiful. Me? I’m afraid to show my teeth, so my smiles are usually tight, close-mouthed, and controlled. That’s not beautiful at all. (It doesn’t feel beautiful either.) And a side note, it’s not because there’s anything wrong with my teeth. They’re fine. Normal even.

Am I just afraid to be happy?

Back when I was going to university, I think I was in my third year and my ex had moved to Ottawa for work. It was the first time I’d been without him for a couple of years at least. All week I’d focus on him coming to Kingston for the weekend, but when he got there, I’d spend most of my time worrying about when he had to leave again. He said I needed to learn to enjoy the moment rather than worry about what may or may not be coming. He was right, of course, and I tried. I got better at it, but never good, never great. I was always afraid to enjoy the moment too much because it would end. It had to end. Joy can’t last 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Can it?

I guess, as the saying goes, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Always. Even now. It’s no longer to the same extreme, but it’s there, a voice that whispers, “You can’t trust this… the wheels of life continue to turn and bad will follow good. It’s life.” I think what helps me deal with this now is realizing and acknowledging that if bad follows good, then good follows bad. This wheel of life that continues to turn, it’s random, yes, but often we get a little bit of everything. No one’s life is completely good and no one’s life is completely bad.

Am I going somewhere with this? I don’t know, I don’t have a plan. I’m writing for my mental health and you, if you’re reading, are along for the journey, I guess.

So, welcome to my crazy, sometimes contradictory, oftentimes confusing, life. And if you’re going through or feeling anything remotely similar, I’d love to hear from you. Whether it's a Facebook message or an email (ccwithsandy@gmail.com), I think it would be nice to chat with others who are feeling or facing similar challenges. Or even different challenges. I think we need each other to be whole, to heal, and to learn how to accept and to experience true joy.