Rain but no rainbow

There is a pretty good chance this post may make some people uncomfortable because it's real and raw and doesn't really have a happy ending or a moral, and stories like that aren't everyone's cup of tea. There is also a chance that some people will be comforted by an untidy story that they might be able to relate to. And some people, coming upon this blog by chance, may see that it's called "Chasing Rainbows" and think it is all about positive experiences. It isn't, though I certainly do try to find the rainbows in the midst of life's storms most of the time. To see a rainbow, the sun will be behind you and the rain will be in front of you. You will not see the rainbow while looking toward the sunny part of the sky. In fact, the best rainbows will be seen when you face the darkest part of the sky. And that's what this blog is about: facing the darkness and finding the light and encouraging others to do the same. But not this particular post. 

I'm not going to candy coat it: Life has been hitting extra hard the last few months. It's not one thing, but it is one thing after another, and the pile feels pretty crushing at the moment. I have been swinging daily between anxiety, which says, "Everything matters a lot," and depression, which says, "Nothing matters at all," and PTSD, which says, "The things that used to matter most, still matter most." I'm not writing this from the other side of it like I often do, when I've discovered the lesson and am ready to implement the growth. I'm just in it. Right now, I don't see the rainbow or the sun or anything other than dark thunderclouds. The storm is too all-consuming, and new storms keep rolling in. There is not yet any light in the sky with which to make a rainbow. Today is better than yesterday--which is why I have even found the motivation to open my computer to try to string words together with the hope of unraveling some of the tangles of my mind--but the skies are still very gray. I am staring at the darkest place in the sky, wishing I could see the rainbow, and all it is doing is staring right back at me and continuing to spit in my face.

I feel a bit like Lt. Dan in "Forrest Gump" when he shakes his fist at the sky and challenges the storm to a showdown. I'm more of a tears person than a fist person, though. I tend to experience my emotions (all of them) with tears, and the tears have been pretty free flowing in the last few months, despite whatever happy images you may have seen of me on social media. (And, of course, life is not ever all bad, so those images are real, but they don't feel like the complete story of me.) I have experienced tears of sadness, hurt, anxiety, frustration, anger, fear, stress, regret, shame, guilt, resentment, helplessness, hopelessness, self-pity, compassion, concern, and uncertainty. And there have also been tears of pseudo-resignation as my higher self works to just accept things as they are. But, honestly, these have not been tears of genuine resignation, because in my heart I don't really want to quit fighting and raging at the things Life is handing out at the moment. So much of it feels unfair. So much of it feels like it is out of my control. So much of it feels unfixable. And I'm not yet ready to look for the silver lining or even to pretend like one exists. 

So here I am raging at the storm, hoping I might come out of it at some point in a peaceful state like Lt. Dan did, but not fully ready to accept the lessons (and losses) it has for me, because what I really want is for things to be the way they were before the storms hit. I want a season with calm water, with sunny skies, with time to just float and not feel like I am having to constantly bail water or exhaust myself with trying to keep the boat from capsizing. But that is definitely not the season I'm in, and it seems like a lie to pretend otherwise. 

So, yeah, no happy ending. But you can't say I didn't warn you. As much as I wish it was otherwise, not every storm comes with a rainbow. And sometimes another storm hits before you can recover from the last one. That's reality. And that's where I am. 

(I do believe the sun will come out again eventually and that rainbows are still possible. But that magic is clearly for a different time, which I could have waited for and written about, but the need to be authentically me in this moment got the best of me.)

A review of my year of happiness and joy

Hi there. Remember me? I used to have thoughts and write about them here, but it's been a minute since I've done either of those things. Here we are, a week into a new year--which is absolutely astounding to me--and I have finally decided to prioritize sitting down with my thoughts to see if I can unravel them enough to make any sense. I feel like I need to unpack the year we just left behind and begin exploring the year ahead. 

I began 2022 in a state of depression, after claiming "happiness" and "joy" as my words of the year. That didn't seem to bode well, and I spent some time feeling like a failure for not being able to step into what I believed the Universe had for me, which led to a deeper state of depression. I found the words hard to define and harder to capture. I believed these things would be found in a source outside myself but I could not seem to find where they were kept. And then another word came to me: alone. It didn't seem like a very happy word and was not one I wanted to focus on, but I decided to let the Universe have its way, so I embraced it. I began to understand that happiness and joy could not be manufactured outside of myself and that I was the only source for these things. I spent copious amounts of time alone with my thoughts and got really comfortable with being my own best friend. A couple of months into 2022 the fog began to lift and I started to feel really good about who I was as a person, which helped me show up better in every area of my life, which led to more joy in every area of my life. I realized I didn't need someone else to validate me and that the treasure trove of happiness and joy had existed inside of me all along and that there was no need to look for it elsewhere. And even if every day didn't feel particularly happy, a new sense of contentment came over me and joy began to grow in my heart. It became easier to see the beauty and magic in each day, and that felt a lot like happiness. 

I wish that was the end of the story because it does make a very tidy and uplifting story: depressed girl finds herself and lives happily ever after. But that isn't the end of the story. It makes for pleasant reading, but "happily ever after" isn't really a thing. And I am trying very hard to be true to my whole story--not just the parts that are ready-made for an Instagram post. I don't want to hide from the difficult chapters of my story or pretend they don't exist. 

Depression settled in for me again in the fall, when my baby moved overseas to live with his dad. This was a decision he made for himself, and I absolutely feel that giving him this autonomy was and is the right thing to do. I am pleased that he seems happy and is having so many amazing experiences. I would never want to take those things away from him. But I'll be real honest: not getting to regularly see his mischievous smile or hear his infectious laugh or give him a hug before bed or listen to his engaging stories--both real and imagined--or relish his banter with his brothers or share the big and little life experiences with him has felt like a slow suffocation to me. And because our situation is so unique, there is no one with whom I can share this grief. In general, people are kind, which I appreciate so much, but I have not met anyone who has had an experience even remotely close to mine or who can offer any consolation. And the me that became my best friend early in the year sometimes seems to have lost the strength to support me under this new and heartbreaking weight that I was in no way prepared for, even though I knew it was coming for months before it became a reality. 

Overall, I do think 2022 truly was a year of happiness and joy. I stood in awe of countless breathtaking sunrises and sunsets. I made new friends and deepened friendships I already had. I met a unicorn and opened my heart to new possibilities. I spent quality time with the people who matter most to me and spent less time with people and situations that felt toxic. I deeply appreciated the beauty of nature, the taste of delicious food and drink, the blessing of enriching conversations. I watched my kids do the things they love, and I put energy into doing things I love as well. I tried to live in the moment and to control the things I can control and let go of the rest. I danced. I sang. I laughed. I smiled. And I am so very thankful for all of it! 

But I have learned that a happy life does not always feel happy. Sometimes it's feels like screaming profanities at the top of your lungs when no one else is around. And sometimes it feels like ugly crying in your shower until you can hardly stand. And sometimes it feels like dissociating from everyone and everything and feeling numb just to get through the day. These moments are real and are as much a part of my year of happiness and joy as any of the things previously mentioned. Without these moments, I might not even have recognized the happiness that I experienced in the other moments. 

Some of you will read this and will worry about me or feel sorry for me. Please don't. I'm okay. Really. I am still able to function every day. I am able to take care of my responsibilities and to to do that well. I am still able to smile and laugh and dance and sing and find beauty and magic in the world around me. I am able to enjoy the company of others and even be a comfort to friends that are dealing with their own traumas. Joy still resides in my broken heart, and even on my dark days, I still believe in and look for sunshine. And I think that's what happiness truly is: not a lack of brokenness, but finding joy even in the midst of it.

My words for 2023 are "brave" and "peace," and I'm eager to see how they will play out for me. At first I thought it was strange that those were the two words that came to me because they seem a bit contradictory. Being brave often doesn't feel peaceful. It pushes you out of your comfort zone and makes you face your fears, and that is always uncomfortable. But the act of being brave leads to peace if you can see it through. I will be leaning in to acts of bravery this year, even if they seem small, and I will be pursuing peace like it is my full time job. I will probably also neglect to be brave or choose peace from time to time, but I will not beat myself up for that. And that will be its own act of bravery that leads to peace.

To anyone reading this, thank you for letting me be real and vulnerable. I wish you all the best this year has to offer. I hope you find happiness and joy even in your brokenness and that you find the courage to be brave in your pursuit of peace this year. I would love to know if you have your own word/words for the year so I can cheer you on as you try to manifest them in your life. 

An Opportunity to Practice Smile Meditation

In an act of sheer brilliance and inspiration, I chose my words for 2022--JOY and HAPPINESS--and announced them joyously and happily to the world. Then, I immediately turned around and ran head first into a thick and unyielding wall of anxiety that knocked me down a deep, dark hole of depression that I haven't yet completely found my way out of. 

I know that doesn't seem much like the stuff of hope, beauty, and magic, but I'm just really trying to keep it real here. And, even though I'm generally on a path of chasing rainbows, that doesn't mean I'm always finding them. To find rainbows, we all have to walk through storm clouds, and that's where I am right now. No point in pretending otherwise. I am working on trying to climb out of the pit, but it's a slow process, as you know well if you've ever been there, and it takes a tremendous amount of energy, which depression is very good at zapping.

One low-energy technique I'm trying to employ is smile meditation, which I recently read about and am very much intrigued by. (I have been aware of the concept for a while but only became familiar with this term for it in my recent reading.) All you do is sit and smile. Seems simple in theory. Feels difficult in practice. There is actually a ton of brain research on this idea that proves that smiling--even if it's fake--for at least 10 seconds, can literally switch up the signals in the brain and create happier feelings in a person, even if nothing else changes. I think I can probably find the energy to sit and smile for 10-30 seconds a couple of times a day, even on my worst days, so I'm giving it a shot. And, now that I think about it, the fact that I'm even trying to do something to change and to improve is exactly the stuff of hope, beauty, and magic, so I feel sure I'll eventually find the rainbows I'm looking for.