Being Happy is Hard
I have this immense desire to write, but this stupid, blank document is staring at me, taunting me with its bare nakedness. Oh dear blank document, how I want to smother you with words of love and truth and inspiration, but here you are, being a God damn tease. How about if I just write verbatim what pops into my head? Because despite what the beginning of this entails, there is a point to be made.
The thing is, I’m strict with my words. I want them to flow. No. I need them to flow. Otherwise, I’d rather leave this blank page blank than have it full of half-assed words. I want my words to show the effort I have made. The painstakingly long effort of me writing and rewriting and rewriting again that same phrase, because although the effort sometimes makes me want to beat my head in, the result is so fulfilling. Like wow, I did that. I am capable of making something simple sound beautiful.
I guess life is kinda the same way.
It's funny. No one ever really tells you how difficult it is to be happy. Like actually be happy. Be happy with yourself, with others and with life. For so long, I kind of expected happiness to fall into place. I mean, I live in a safe town, have a supporting family, work at a friendly place, am receiving an education and have this blank page laying in front of me (both metaphorically and literally). It didn't seem like I really had to try to be happy with where I was.
However, depression still wiggled its way into my "perfect" life.
That's the thing. Depression can literally happen to anyone no matter their circumstances. I sometimes feel that I don't have much control of my life. My parents want this thing, my friends want that thing, my coworkers want one thing and my community wants another thing. I find that I rely on others to pave my decisions and emotions, especially to make me feel better. I care about the opinions of others to give my art, and my own life, meaning.
However, relying on others leads to disappointments. Not everyone has your back, and not everyone will do the same that you would do for them. It hurts realizing this. It's honestly like getting your heart ripped out. You put so much effort into shaping a factor in your life, only to realize your efforts are useless.
You know what? I'm tired of disappointments. It's agonizing to feel like you have no control in your life. To be somewhere you didn't want to be. To be someone you didn't want to be. But shit, enough is enough. I'm not letting this sense of zero control lead me to hating people who disappoint me or to hating myself for that matter.
Happiness requires effort, and effort requires all of your energy. You get out what you put in, as they say. Why am I pressuring myself to write beautiful words? Because I want to create beauty. I like writing like that. Yes, I'm a perfectionist. Yes, I'm hard to please. But I like that about myself. I'm willing to listen to different music, to watch different movies, to talk to different people, but that does not mean I have to like every song, every film and every human being. That doesn't mean I have to keep everything in my life. If an aspect in my life isn't fulfilling anymore, then screw that aspect! I need to take every opportunity to grow!
So this is me, saying that I am done doing things to please people, and I am done being hard on myself — two things I wish I had realized a long time ago. I'm not going to play dumb and act like depression isn't going to come back, because like I've said, you can't control life.
But you can control how you react. You can let yourself be sad, because emotions are good and pure and need to be expressed. Bottling them up does nothing but make it harder for yourself, which is something I am learning.
You need to be selfish. Being a little bit selfish is honestly one of the best things you can do in life. Do things for yourself, not for others (I'm obviously not saying be a total dick to everyone). I want to paint, take pictures, read, write, go for walks, laugh with my friends, be goofy, dress expressively and actively try to be happy again rather than just expecting it to happen. I know not everything will turn out how I want it to be, but I want to put as much effort in my life as I can, because the reward will be so good and so fulfilling, and that's the end goal to all of this. I truly want to be happy by inspiring others to be happy with themselves and live their dream.
I want to live again.
Your friend,
Jane
