don’t know if I can be happy. I don’t even know if I trust happiness anymore. Every time I feel myself enjoying something a moment, a person, a tiny spark of peace something in me tightens. Like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m borrowing joy I don’t deserve and someone’s going to come take it back.
It’s this quiet, constant fear that the shoe is about to drop. That the good thing won’t last. That the people who make me feel safe will disappear. That the softness I find will turn sharp again. And because of that, I start pulling away from the very things I want. I tell myself I don’t want to be happy, but the truth is I do. I just don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to feel stupid for believing in something good.
It’s hard to unlearn a lifetime of bracing for impact. Hard to convince your brain that joy isn’t a trap. Hard to stop scanning the horizon for storms when storms are what raised you.
And I hate that. I hate that happiness feels like a risk. I hate that my first instinct is to flinch instead of lean in. I hate that I can’t just relax into the good without waiting for the bad.
But I’m also tired of pretending I don’t want more. I do want to be happy. I want to feel safe in my own life. I want to trust that good things don’t always come with a countdown. I want to believe that I’m allowed to have moments that don’t hurt.
I just don’t know how to get there yet.
Maybe this is what healing looks like sometimes wanting something you’re still scared of. Wanting happiness while also grieving all the times it was taken from you. Wanting softness while your body still remembers the hard parts.
Maybe the truth is: I’m learning. Slowly. Clumsily. Quietly. I’m learning that wanting happiness doesn’t make me foolish. It makes me human. And even if I don’t fully believe I deserve it yet, maybe wanting it is the first step toward someday feeling like I do.
Okay byeee, love you, go drink water and do something gentle for yourself today 💗
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