It's so fast sometimes I barely realize it's happening. I'm buoyant and excited, a low buzz of electricity running through my system, smiling and laughing with every person I see. But in a split second, it's an email, or a text message, or an awkward encounter with a classmate in the hallways and suddenly I'm cascading into a boxed in sandpit. All of a sudden I feel flat and empty, plopped into blandness and staring at the spot where I'd just been completely elated. How did it happen so quickly?
I've always loved being happy. Who doesn't, right? But I've always cherished the glowing ball I get in my chest when everything just seems to fall into place. I'm probably such an "insecure overachiever," as my Professor likes to call us, because I'm just searching for the next glowing ball of light in my life. It's shown up in several different forms: a rekindled wholesome family life, proving I could get into grad school and subsequently not failing out of grad school, functioning relatively normally in a happy longterm relationship, and every small success I've gotten while in grad school. But I've always been amazed at how quickly I can let go of that warm, energizing happiness. It takes the smallest, most indistinct action to grab it from me. Even plans falling through with friends can "bring my elevator down."
So it's become a well-defined fear. When I'm happy, or when life is running smoothly and without incident, I'm petrified I'll lose hold of whatever is carrying me forward. I've realized, ironically, I push me forward. So how come it's so easy to get down on myself after an achievement? Is this an issue any other 365fear-ers have? Sorry for the muddled post but I'm mid-edit and have to run off before it gets too late and I get stuck at school.
Today's fear: Happy-go-bye-bye-o-phobia
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment