On Realizing Joy in the Truth

I watch other people experience happiness and joy all around me.

I see it everyday, all the time, little things—watching someone leave what looked like a first date with a boyish grin on a blushed face. Or seeing someone laugh, the kind of laugh that comes from deep in the belly, the kind that feels good and full, that demands more breath.

This past week I went camping with some friends, and camping in and of itself is an experience so good for the body and mind.

After a day of ocean waves and skin a few shades darker than when we began, we sat around what once was a fire while we watched the glow of the embers slowly burn out.

My friend then asked every one of us to answer one question, are you experiencing joy right now? 

And I felt my heart stop for a second. And while I know full well that can’t actually happen, I swear I felt it seize in that moment.

One by one each person answered, all the while thinking how I was going to get out of it when my turn came around.

Because I knew if I had to answer, I would lie.

Because I knew I would lie and say yes, sure, when I really meant no.

Because I knew I would list off the things in my life that were currently“working out in my favor” as if those things were reason enough for me be joyful, when I damn well knew I wasn’t.

Because I knew there wasn't a chance I could even muddle out an honest response without crying, or sobbing for that matter.

You see, for the past however many months, I’ve felt this incredible weight on my chest.

Even as I write that I can feel my eyes well up.

I’ve felt this weight on my chest that I can’t describe, except that it is so tangible and all consuming.  It has a way of disconnecting me from everything around me all the while keeping me so very aware of where I am, keeping me on the ground.

I don’t know how something so physical and real and felt on my body can be the very thing that keeps me away from anything and anyone else. And when any one thing can make me cry, it further poses the question if it’s all just one great big thing that makes me feel this way, or a couple of small things. And then there are some days when it could very well be everything.

I’m so far past the point of a meek and gentle tear that when I feel my eyes swell, I’m almost immediately experiencing a heaving sort of sob.

So when one answer by one answer, I get closer to having to respond to, 'are you experiencing joy right now?' I disconnect. I flee.

Every year for the past six birthdays I’ve wished the same exact wish verbatim. I won’t tell you what I wish for because first, if I want it to ever come true, I simply cannot break the age-old rule. Second, while I may usually be quite the rule breaker, this is one I cannot. And third, what fun would that be?

I wish the same wish every year hoping I won’t ever have to make the same wish again. That it will finally be the year the wish comes true. And every year my heart breaks a little more, and I feel the weight of reality pull me down a little more. And every year it gets harder and harder to smile at the candles and look at myself in the mirror at the end of the night.

I say all of this first, because I'll soon be making that wish for the seventh time come August, and I think I've been subconsciously aware of it for quite some time now. 

And second, because I think everyone has that wish they keep at arms length -- that one wish you can’t let yourself give up on.  

The kind of wish that you spend forever wanting and take for granted when it comes true. 

The one that isn’t the miracle you were hoping for when it finally happened. 

The kind that happens and in the moment its just another day, another job, another guy, another kiss, another, another, another. 

And then you get a question like, are you experiencing joy right now? And you think, well hell, if only you asked me that then, and you look back to the moment your wish came true and realize you didn't even notice, and then go on to say, ‘oh that was the best,’ 'that was a really good day,’ ‘I was happy then.’

Finally it became my turn to answer.

I felt the stars glare at me until I spoke. 

I could lie to my friends but the stars, they would see right through me, that much I knew.

So I said, I don’t know. In a rather dismissive, annoyed tone. And while to me it was a happy medium between not answering and lying, I knew I couldn’t get away with just that much when the others before me had really laid it all out. So I continued,

Well does anyone ever answer that question with a true and honest yes? Aren’t we always going to say that there was a time before now when we felt joy, felt happy? Because I don’t believe we ever really feel things when we're in it.  And I hate that. But I think its true.

It was the best I could mutter out considering.

But it was also the most honest and satisfying thing I had said and truly believed in such a long time.

Because in the midst of  far too many months of unanswered tears and a heavy heart, I finally let the weight of I. Dont. Know fully hang on me in the way it demanded to be felt.

Because it’s okay to not know why the tears seem abundant this season.

Because it’s okay to know joy will come and go, ebb and flow, like everything whole and right in this life. It’s not always good, and maybe finding an answer won’t help, if an answer were possible to find.

Because to look for joy, to wish for joy, to question joy, is the very way we cease to experience it.

-S

“One of the hardest things I have had to learn as a writer is that I must 'kill my darlings,' meaning that, sometimes the process means letting go of characters, and chapters, and sentences I really love for the greater good of my writing. It’s not always fun or pretty, and sometimes it hurts.” – Lindy Law

unsung

a tug of war. the undeserving type by which victory always belonged to the courageous. witnessed by empty pages, unsung stories, countless thoughts and further more half concepts yet to be concrete. 

let it be duly noted these past few months have been experience abundant. i have identified with humans i never knew existed. spilled more i-didn’t-see-those-coming tears than i would like to admit (but shame has no place here.) felt the wind of courage whisper before a fear filled escape. understood longing for people, people to be close and to stay. pursued risks i once had no interest in-after all i think it is nothing short of healthy to challenge those things you used to only see one side to. grace has cleansed those wrongs so surely believed about myself and others. i have held back due to self doubt only to be followed by regret. my eyes have seen beautiful things.

all this to say, writing has lingered above my head for what feels decades. whatever the reason may be, my desire to write has been non-existent--while my adoration for writing ever so constant. outlandish, really. my unfinished thoughts about writing are as goes; just as a place is no where without people to be cared for/care about, moments feelings and the way to make sense of it all is nothing without writing (for myself). it seems an injustice to let thoughts go unsung and not shared because what good is it to wake up one day to find i have protected my days, mind and heart. so here i peep out of silence to recognize the remedy, preserver, keeper and beauty that is writing. to deeper understand why i write, the next post will, in simple words express this. 

Sincerely,
B