happy/sad.

i’ve been thinking about the concept of happiness lately. trigger warning for this entry.

i’ve always had issues with depression. i first remember feeling depressed when i was 12. i wrote out a suicide note that i never actually intended to go through with and my mom found it. the consequences were unpleasant, so for a long time, i pretended that i was always happy. she constantly asked me for months afterward if i was okay – and because i was so uncomfortable with how i felt, i said yes every time. eventually she stopped asking.

but i continued to feel sad off and on for years. sometimes it was sobbing in the bathroom all alone, cutting myself with the razor from the bathtub. sadness felt like a huge mass inside of my chest at all times, weighing me down. sometimes it felt more like apathy; turning me into a rude person with a flippant attitude. i didn’t care about hurting feelings. i just wanted to be alone. sadness was hidden inside places and situations in which i thought i would literally drown. it kept me in my room, sleeping for long hours, drinking too much. it had me lying on the bathroom floor years after i promised myself i wouldn’t do that again. it had me locked inside of a bathroom stall at school, skipping classes, tears in my eyes while driving long distances.

but i know what happiness is, too! it feels like being with my entire family on christmas day with everyone getting along. it feels like warm sheets and no early alarm for the morning. it’s feeling safe and steady in someone’s arms, even for just a moment.

i’m not sure what happened that truly fucked me up. chemical imbalances and a slightly unfair deck of cards i’ve been dealt. i feel awful because compared to others, my life is pretty good. it goes in tiers: i have shelter, water, food, and a car. i have a job. i have friends and family. i have access to money and i am not disabled. i was able to go to college and get an education. i’ve never been raped, sexually assaulted, or beaten. i’ve never been in an abusive relationship. i’ve never been divorced, widowed, or abandoned. i’ve never had someone super close to me die.

if i could leave my body, shake my shoulders, and scream at myself then i would. i would say things like, “you need to get your shit together” and “there’s no reason for you to be sad, asshole.”

deep down i know it doesn’t work like that. in reality i can’t leave my body, so i stay staring at my ceiling in the darkness, feeling alone when i’m not really alone. stuck.