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.
