Joy and happiness, real things.

So I have been so busy the past few weeks that I’ve completely neglected my outlet of writing about the craziness that goes on in my life. I’m back now though. All is good in the world.

Considering the week/month my family and I have been having I should be sad, devastated, but I’m not. The break up was a huge weight off of my shoulders (it was all very complicated and sucked, but oh my goodness do I feel better), and now that Papa is in heaven I know he is looking down and smiling at us, no longer in pain, happy up there with God.

This week has brought sorrow and sadness, but it also brought something completely unexpected: moments of pure happiness and joy.

As I’ve stated previously I have a extremely close and supportive inner circle of friends. They have made my life significantly easier to live, and in turn they seem to enjoy my company, its a win win. I helped two of them move into their new house this weekend, and for the most part we have been completely inseparable in the past two weeks. I have loved having someone always there to talk to and have my back, always willing and wanting to talk and hang out. For once in my life I feel like I’m not the mom trying to care for everyone else, I do, I still keep bandaids in my purse and apply them to others when necessary, and I still care deeply and try to help, but in return I’m cared for, and that is something I haven’t felt before.

In particular I can say that David has been there for me from the beginning. Y’all aren’t familiar with David, but you will be. When I got home in late January I was headed for a few weeks worth of tailspin into depression, really deep depression, the kind that makes you feel worthless, loveless, empty. David was there for me in the darkest moments with his equally dry sense of humor to cheer me up, even though he works full time and had to keep Facebook up all day to message me. I could count on having an album to listen to every day, and I could count on a friend to talk to all day, no matter how bad it got. When we weren’t otherwise engaged I could also count on someone to hang out with, whether that was moving him in, buying mattresses, or enoing (the act of laying in portable hammocks in a multitude of places). Through his consistent kindness (and some life adjustments) I have been able to carve myself a path to happiness.

So let me tell you – it’s real. I forgot it was real, I was scared and depressed for so long that I forgot what pure, unadulterated happiness felt like. It feels like rays of sunshine, like the color yellow, like the smell of fresh cut grass, and flowers, the mountains, and homemade cookies right out of the oven. My happiness is uncovered through butterflies in my stomach, a hand to hold, witty and intellectual conversation, a shoulder to cry on, movie nights, softball games, smiles, and extended periods of time just considering and contemplating the state of happiness. The thing about moving from depression to peace is that you can’t just decide to do it, but once something ignites the flame, it’s far easier to fan it. So for all of us that struggle to find it, to come out of the depression, or down from the mania, it still exists, and I thoroughly believe we can all experience it despite our messed up brains. If anything, knowing extreme sorrow and emptiness can help us truly experience and know happiness when it does find a way back into our lives.

To appreciate happiness and weirdness here’s a picture of me with broccoli the size of my head. Enjoy.


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