As someone who is a mahoosive advocate for mental health awareness, and more than eager to share my own journey along with ma lil rack babies, I’ve noticed in both my very public and very private journals, I hardly document when I am feeling happy. Instagram is usually inundated with selfies and (more selfies) happy times, but I don’t often write the words about happiness, because I’m too busy feeling it.
Here I am. Documenting it.
Today, Wednesday the 7th of February 2018, I feel as happy as the happiest I have felt before.
Life feels exciting. My future feels even more exciting. I know what I want with a career, I know who my people are; the same people who have been there throughout it all. Throughout the other happy moments, and quietly been waiting for me when I attempt to push everyone away and crawl into myself. They are the ones who tell me in their own way that they are there for me whenever I am ready to need them; through a text, just to say hey I’m here; with a snapchat of their dogs, because they know that I’d love their dogs almost more than them; with a coffee catch up where we talk about nothing and everything, overanalyzing the exact same situations we’ve been overanalyzing for years.
And I am here. My constant. I can laugh and I can cry, and the tears I allow myself to cry (almost daily) is my body shedding the sadness that my skin is coated with. Because while I feel like my body drags with sadness, my heart soars with love, and care, and empathy, and happiness.
I used to hate how much I cared. I used to hate that words would cut me deep, and I used to hate that those words often came from my own head. But I’ve come to accept it. And work on it. Allowing myself to feel everything that comes my way allows me to embrace happiness even harder.
I am happy.
I am so, fucking exhaustingly, disgustingly, annoyingly happy.
I don’t know how long this will last. It’s a feeling, after all. Feelings are fleeting.
But it’s the best feeling in the world. Better than lego.
If you are currently in your own pit, I send you all my love, and all my hope. Hope that you can find the strength (that is, and always has been, right inside yourself), to climb atop and scream to the world that you are better than your sadness.
I love you all.
I love my goddamn life.
24 year old writer, just trying to find her way through the world through words and funny anecdotes.