Furiously Happy (?)

Last Tuesday I reached over to my stack of library books and grudgingly pulled out “Furiously Happy” by Jenny Lawson. I say grudgingly because I’d just finished a wonderful story about dark faeries, spelled princes, and crazy magic and was not excited about the idea of leaving the realm of magical fiction behind to instead root through a person’s real life story with mental illness. I can honestly say that within one minute of reading I had completely changed my tune.

This book is fantastic. Seriously. It is one of the best, most hilarious, and incredibly entertaining; laugh out loud books I have read in possibly my entire life. I started chuckling on page 1, almost killed myself choking on an apple at page 27, and giggled furiously (yes I’m stealing that word) for close to 15 minutes straight the night after. But interspersed with the humor is Lawson describing her lifelong struggle with depression, anxiety; sleep disorders, etc…in a refreshingly real way. She freely and openly shares emotions and experiences that so many thousands feel the need to hide because our society tells us we should be ashamed of them. 

I have so much respect and admiration for people like Lawson; individuals who buck the idea and expectation to be 'normal' and instead embrace who they are, the good, the bad and the crazy - the fun parts and dark moments both. Social media bombards us daily with images, ideas and 140 character messages of people's perfect, happy lives. We're tricked into believing that life is always amazing for everyone, except us, but that is just a ridiculous lie. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that probably 99.99% of the world's population have at least days, if not weeks or months, and sometimes entire years of unhappiness. But they hold it in, living with a painful belief that only they are failing at that this thing call life. If more of us not only embraced those moments, but were also brave enough to shout them out to the world, there might not be so many people feeling isolated and alone. I haven’t been diagnosed with any of the disorders Lawson mentions in her book but I have had my own mental health battle. I’ve been fairly upfront about that fight but it has been many months since I’ve shared anything of substance though, so here goes…

I would say that at least once day I feel like a failure. I listen to my own Mr. Hyde-like voice telling me I’m a mess at my job, I have no established career, I can’t clean my house properly, I’m a disaster at lawn care, I suck at writing, I watch too much TV, I haven’t baked a dessert for work in a month so I’m totally dropping the ball, I told Steph I’d like to make frozen dinners for her family months ago and have cooked one so I’m a bad friend, I never seem to be able to save money so I’m an irresponsible adult…I could go on for pages. The Dr. Jekyll side of me knows that not all of those things are necessarily true (although the lawn care definitely is) but it’s so easy to disregard that whisper and instead fall in line with the negative yells. I also have that other voice in my head; the one who tells me I’m too fat, that I’ve eaten too much, that I only worked out for an hour – not three – so that’s an entire day wasted. It’s exhausting.  

In truth, I'm not particularly in love with life right now; I haven't been for a few months. That’s not to say I’ve been wrapped inside a constant state of unhappiness; I can easily find contentment while sitting in my little home library, or delving into a craft project, attacking a steep mountain trail, or wandering through the dark shelves of Barnes&Noble for an hour, or two...ok maybe three. Faelina remains my ever shining star and has me laughing daily as observe her zany obsessions and delighted obstinacy in rule breaking (we have daily discussions about the kitchen counters being off limits, I say they are (off limits that is), she disagrees).

Part of my downward emotions are probably due to the fact that, since January, I’ve been back in therapy. There was no major crash that brought that about, finding a therapist was something I should have done as soon as I reached Utah, but I was just so tired of dealing with everything so decided to attempt managing everything on my own. In some ways I did ok, in others I definitely failed; by January though I was started to lean towards bad habits and decisions with frightening frequency so it’s good I started back up when I did. Of course there is a pretty big difference in living a delicate balance with an eating disorder and actively trying to eliminate it. The second part is harder, it sucks, and it means that many days you go to bed feeling miserable.

That isn’t all of it though, there is just something is missing. I have been rifling through my life and mind trying to figure out just what that something is but apparently elusivity (this may not be an actual word but I don’t care, I’m still using it) is it’s middle name because so far I’ve got nothing. It’s a quest I won’t give up on though; happiness is too important to give up on, so I’ll keep searching. I’ll share things as I discover them – good, bad and ugly. I’m also going to start being a little more forthcoming with some of the quirkier, weirder aspects of myself because they bring me joy and delight and a little bit closer to becoming furiously happy.

p.s. If you do anything today, go to the store and buy that book. If you don’t laugh at least once I will refund your money. If you still don't want to spend money go the library, books are free there.

 

 

 

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