My Search for Happy

The problem with my depression is that my lack of motivation to do anything gives me too much time to over think and over analyzes my life. During one of my many over thinking sessions, I asked myself if I have ever been truly happy. Initially my answer was no. I’ve always been a miserable, self-hating, pathetic human being. Then I had to take as step back from myself and give it a more thorough look.

I certainly know what happiness is. I’ve felt it so I know I’m capable of having it. The real question is, have I ever been able to sustain it for longer than a few days?

My mother swears I was a happy child. I laughed a lot and appeared to enjoy what life had to offer. Unfortunately, I don’t remember much of that time so I will take her word for it.

Reviewing my childhood, I remember more during and after my first bout of depression in the 5^th grade. I think the longevity of my happiness decreased. Once I experienced true sadness it was easier to be triggered back into it. I distinctly remember trying to compose a “last will and testament.” I can’t remember if I was suicidal or if I was just hoping I would die. I was only in elementary school and my writing wasn’t as advanced as my feelings, so I tried to record my “will” on my boom box. I remember being very serious about it as I wanted certain stuffed animals to go to certain friends and the rest donated to charity. I had heard the reading of a will on TV so I tried to copy the wording so it included that I was of sound mind and body etc. I wanted to be remembered fondly and I cried imagining no one would.

In my teens we moved to another city and the misery was justified then. I went from a school of kids I grew up knowing my whole life, to a place where I knew no one. I was sick to my stomach every day and stayed in my room listening to Erasure ever night.

I KNOW I was happy, even during these times. My brain insists I remember and focus on the negative, but I’m trying to recall the happy moments.

OK Happy memories. I was pretty good on the monkey bars in elementary. I could do a lot of tricks that I think are illegal in schools now. I could twirl on one leg and do crazy tricks like the cherry drop and death drop. I enjoyed that, I was happy I had skills a lot of other kids didn’t have. That is a happy memory.

After we moved, I did make new friends. There were some other “new kids” that felt sorry for me and allowed me to pal around with them so I wouldn’t eat alone at lunch. These were sweet girls that I will always be grateful for.

Whew, there we go! Happy things. That was ridiculously tough. My head constantly wants to shift to the “but what about this…” stuff. NO! I need to practice finding the happy. I can tell this will be a lot of work…and I may just quit in the middle of my search. But at this moment, I’m working on it.