I was texting with one of my oldest friends recently after she got back from a trip to Italy and at one point in the conversation, she asked whether I was happy. “I’m grateful, but I don’t think I’m happy,” I responded. “And maybe that’s just the way I’m wired."
May 24, 2022·edited May 24, 2022Liked by Jeffery Saddoris
I once had a therapist who said, "it's ok, happiness is not the coin of the realm for everyone." I think about that a lot, because, like you, I'm not sure how often I feel it or even what it is. It does seem like a word that exists as a vast generalization of experience that for me can mean anything from the momentary absence of pain or strife to a spontaneous, non-analyzable feeling of giddiness. The former I can take steps to achieve. The latter is more difficult. Some days, just the absence of pain and strife can be enough.
Since I was young I've found escape in imagination, specifically in creating worlds that I tend to like better than the one(s) I exist in. Currently I'm working on an escapist project call "El Sueño de Varo," which is very freeform, which has me combining something I'm less skilled at (drawing) and something I am skilled at (writing). It's like being on a precipice. Creating this place with its fictional artists and their non-existent sculptures starts as staving off the pain, desire to drink, etc. But it results in a feeling of satisfaction, a heady sense of nowhere-ness.
This, I think sets the table for that giddy happy by opening up possibilities for joy. But here's the thing, and it sucks for depressives, that giddy-happy can go away. Fortunately, El Sueño de Varo, or whatever dust I'm kicking up in my head, is still there.
I once had a therapist who said, "it's ok, happiness is not the coin of the realm for everyone." I think about that a lot, because, like you, I'm not sure how often I feel it or even what it is. It does seem like a word that exists as a vast generalization of experience that for me can mean anything from the momentary absence of pain or strife to a spontaneous, non-analyzable feeling of giddiness. The former I can take steps to achieve. The latter is more difficult. Some days, just the absence of pain and strife can be enough.
Since I was young I've found escape in imagination, specifically in creating worlds that I tend to like better than the one(s) I exist in. Currently I'm working on an escapist project call "El Sueño de Varo," which is very freeform, which has me combining something I'm less skilled at (drawing) and something I am skilled at (writing). It's like being on a precipice. Creating this place with its fictional artists and their non-existent sculptures starts as staving off the pain, desire to drink, etc. But it results in a feeling of satisfaction, a heady sense of nowhere-ness.
This, I think sets the table for that giddy happy by opening up possibilities for joy. But here's the thing, and it sucks for depressives, that giddy-happy can go away. Fortunately, El Sueño de Varo, or whatever dust I'm kicking up in my head, is still there.