If I could schedule happiness I would.
If getting happy was as easy as scheduling my hair appointment or getting my teeth cleaned, I’d be the happiest person on earth.
Actually, it’s not that I’m NOT happy. I am. I’m perhaps the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. It’s this damn bipolar that’s throwing a damper on my happy-fest.
This week has been difficult for me. I’ve been disappointed each morning that I open my eyes. That is to say, I am disappointed that I wake up anxious and depressed. I read in a blog somewhere that waking up to a panic attack is like waking up to a punch in the stomach. I can’t describe it better, so I won’t.
I am disappointed and frustrated that this episode of illness in my life is cutting into my happiness. It is draining me of fun and joy and that hurts. There is a difference in the me that you may see out and about and the me going on inside my head and heart. There is nothing sadder to me than acting out joyful moments instead of feeling them.
That makes me angry. I am not comfortable with anger and bitterness. Neither one is a default emotion for me. I truly am happy-go-lucky. I preach compassion and forgiveness. In fact, I may even let go of anger a little too soon sometimes because I don’t like how it feels. I’m not afraid to feel it, I just don’t like it hanging around for too long.
So, this week has been tough. My disappointment, anger, and frustration at myself, at the world and at medical science has made me very “grinchy” right now and that, my friends, is unacceptable in the long term for me.
Trust me, if I could simply “schedule a day of happiness”, I’m fairly sure I would have had this depression thing cleared up years ago.