I sometimes wonder if anyone has ever had these lonely moments where they question whether they deserve their happiness and if it’s okay to be “proud” of your happiness. I’ve questioned myself countless times, wondering if it’s okay for me to be happy.
Two years ago I found someone who I thought was just going to be a fleeting moment in my existence. He was kind to me during a time where most people would rather pull away. I wouldn’t blame them if they felt they had to pull away, looking back I was a real mess (in some ways I still am). I had found a new kind of happiness that I felt ashamed to have. I didn’t believe that I deserved to be happy. In my mind I was supposed to be miserable, I was supposed to be in mourning, after all I had just died so there wasn’t really any reason for me to be happy.
I think when we die on the inside that we forget that there’s still the outer shell that has desires and needs. It’s not as apparent when we simple grow out of our old selves, that’s just nature taking it’s designed course. Sometimes we don’t see it right away but if we look back we can say with confidence that we are no longer the same people we used to be. We grow out of clothing and the things we used to receive joy from and all of it seems so normal. When we die it’s a completely different story though. In my experience it’s like having two giant hands take hold of either side of yourself, they count to three and pull you apart at one and a half. It seems like something that should be painful but it happens so suddenly that all you’re left with is the numbness.
In a place that dark you don’t really expect to feel things like relief or happiness. You’re supposed to be hurting and hopefully picking up your parts so you can begin healing. Your mind just wants to stop you from feeling anything so you throw away your lingering thoughts of self preservation and you just indulge in anything and everything that finds itself in front of you. Amidst this cloud of poor judgement I found something I wanted more then just the pain I was inflicting on my body. I wanted to be happy but it felt so wrong to want that. It felt wrong to want to be happy and it felt worse experiencing it. It was as if I was committing the greatest sin imaginable and I couldn’t stop myself from doing so.
I’ve come a long way since those 2 years ago but the feeling of being unworthy of this happiness still lingers. The days between how often I question myself seem to have spread further apart and honestly I don’t know if I should be grateful or fearful. Only time will tell how far these feelings will go but I Love my Happiness and I won’t feel bad about that.