Apparently all you need to be happy is open arms and balloons. Lots of balloons. That must be what I’m doing wrong!
I had a wonderful holiday with elskan mín and my family. It was really lovely. I was going to write all about it. But now it seems like a distant memory. I’m not surrounded by balloons. I’m not feeling like opening my arms. I feel like I’ve fucked it all up because I suck at being happy.
I was asked, accusingly, if I was going “to blog about this” not long ago. And no, I’m not blogging about that. Or that. But I need to write about this because now I’ve been plunged back into my native state of fear & anxiety and blogging helps. Who knows why. Maybe I should try balloons. But I was also told, in a heated moment, that I’m “never happy!” And this made me want to run. Hide. Die or dissolve into the ether.
People Being happy isn’t something I grew up around. My parents were both deeply unhappy people. I was a very happy child but being sexually assaulted as a toddler at daycare and then feeling abandoned by my father during my parents divorce a few years later put a huge damper on my happiness. I was depressed as a young girl. I pulled my hair out in handfuls when my dad moved out. I know anxiety well. Fear. Depression. Happiness seemed like a fleeting trick or something reserved for better people.
Being told that my deepest fear is actually true I really flipped out. I started to just bolt but then stayed to try and talk but that didn’t go well. When I get emotionally stabbed in my most vulnerable wound I am not good at staying calm or rational. I probably don’t hear what the person is saying after clearly. All I know is I’ve failed at just being a good, happy person and I’m humiliated that I ever thought I’d succeed.
Falling in love is amazing. And I’m so in love. I want to make a life with this man. Which feels amazing. And also terrifying. It’s so much more comfortable to stay alone and accept that being kind of ok but very lonely is the best I should dare to hope for. But I’ve gotten out on this limb of love and I want it to work. I want to be happy. But I think I’m really shit at it. I’m scared of being to happy. Bad things can happen when your guard is down. But not much can happen when your guard is up,especially when it’s made of 12 inch thick bulletproof glass and you’ve become so lonely you’re actually invisible.
There was a fight. We will talk. I hope things can be worked out. I hope my fucking hot flashes cease. I hope for things I dare not hope for and hate myself for it when it all goes wrong. But I want to learn to be happy and not self destruct because it’s more familiar. I want a life with love and connection and I hope I can build that, with elskan mín. I hope I haven’t ruined things already. I wish I’d gotten better at relationships by my age but all I can do is try to be better now.
I’m totally failing as a blogger because I was focusing on being in love. And when it goes wrong I turn here to try and get clarity, or just cope. But I want to have both! Certainly if it comes to it I’ll choose love for sure. I mean, I know my 44 followers will be fine without my intermittent rambling. And I’d be fine if things fall apart in this relationship but I don’t want to be fine, I want to be happy, as scared as I am.
But maybe I’ll get to have it all?