We often treat happiness like capital. If I earn this amount of money, I will be happy. If I get this promotion, I will be happy. If I lose this amount of weight, I will be happy. If I complete this task, I will receive happiness as a reward. If, if, if, will, will, will. Sometimes it is all too easy for your mind to exist outside of the present. Sometimes it is all too common to believe you are not doing enough to deserve happiness.
What is holding us back from feeling content right now? Where is our present joy? What if we are already good?
I often feel as though my depression is something I should be able to snap myself out of. There are some mornings when I wake up and feel invigorated. I tell myself, “Today, I decide to be happy.” The issue is that I don’t always get to choose my feelings, and some days I wake up and feel as though I can’t even bear the thought of leaving my bed. Even on better days when my mind is feeling stronger than average, I continue to live my life as I would any other day. I invest my time and expend my energy doing the same things that have drained me physically and emotionally, time and time again. Sometimes it is not how much we are doing to be happy, but simply just what we are doing. Doing things that don’t actually bring fulfillment or joy for an extended period of time begins to feel performative. What do I really like to do, if not this? Who am I, if not this?
During a recent therapy session, I told my therapist that I was feeling incredibly anxious about what my post-grad life would look like. “What is holding you back from doing those things that interest you — moving away from NYC, going abroad to study, pursuing your writing?” he asked. I cited the practical reasons: financial stability, health care, housing, family support. Deep down, I know I have dreams, hopes, and aspirations, but they all feel too far from the possibility of actualization. As I have been trying to find my happiness in the pragmatism of survival and merely getting by, I haven’t been too successful.
Today, I looked at job listings in Dublin. Nothing serious at all. I just scrolled for about 15 minutes. I merely entertained the idea of building a life for myself in a country where most of my family lives, and it felt good. Here’s my joy, I thought. Just believing in the possibility, giving weight to the opportunity, leaning into the headspace — all of it felt so right. I felt so warmed by the chance that I could do something I actually want to do. After that, I spent about a half-hour singing. That felt good, too.
Joy comes from things that make you feel alive — the things you do that make you believe you really are here for a reason. My joy is in calling my brother on the phone, writing poems, tracing ways to end up living in Ireland, coming home to my suitemates, sending sweet messages to my friends. I often focus on the things that aren’t feeling right, and I search for joy there, and I never find it. How do we allow ourselves to feel the things that feel right?
Maybe we start by moving our bodies in ways that make us feel strong. Maybe we speak to someone who makes us feel understood. Maybe we eat something that makes us feel energized. Maybe we can find joy in the blinks of time when we feel most at ease. When you have anxiety, these instances can often be difficult to discern, but perhaps you can learn to trust your anxiety when your joy feels performative or forced. Joy comes slow like honey, and in its absence you might find solace to know that it is coming.