I have a folder of happiness. When I go into my photo storage in Lightroom it is the one special place just for me. If there was a photo contest to find the best photo of happiness I'm sure the winner would be some baby with a big smile and an ice cream cone. But to me happiness is a hundred photos. I open up the folder and happiness is there in all those little squares forming one giant feeling. Some of the pictures have been taken with my nice camera, but a lot of the pictures are a bit blurry and foggy and probably taken with a beat up cell phone. The pictures with flaws are my favorites though. The idea must have come to me in a moment of positivity. Sometimes I say that there is more than one me. The positive and happy me is always trying to make life easier and hopefully set up to win for the sad me. That's the problem with a mood disorder. Its really really hard to see beyond the mood. So I am always trying to help myself learn.
The thing about happiness is that I'm sure most people think we all experience it pretty similarly. Happy is a feeling, and we all know what it feels like. But I think happiness is actually very different for everyone. My happiness is barefoot by a fire outside while reading poetry. It's sun kissed children with dirty hair. There are almost always flowers involved and adding something old or worn or delicate only adds to the delight. These aren't just the things that make me happy, they are part of happiness itself. I imagine all of these things swirling around inside of me, stirring up my own flavor of happiness.
One thing that individuals with borderline probably do not talk about enough is that because we tend to experience extreme emotions, that also includes happiness and joy. When struggling with a mental illness it can be easy to talk about how much pain can be felt or how hard it is to control our anger. But what I've noticed lately is that one of the very best parts about me is that I can probably experience happiness in a more intense way than a majority of people.
Today I started challenging myself to 2-3 pages of free writing, which I hope to do every day. I want to share what I wrote because I think it shows how everything is heightened in the very best way.
"I know my day is going to be happy when I open my bathroom drawer and the flowers on the paper lining the bottom start to dance. They greet me singing and purple, and as I put on my mascara I know whatever is responsible for the happiness in my brain is alive and working. Those busy little workers in my brain have had their morning coffee and have sworn to fight off the bad guys of lesser moods. As I move to folding the laundry even the small holes in clothing seem to be a friend. Instead of an absence of fabric or quality, the little hole tells me he is the sign of purpose and play. A life well lived. Worn clothing is nothing to be ashamed of. How our bodies move and sweat happiness underneath. The freshness of the sun and summer air, releasing the tightness of fabric. The sewn buttons finally free and able to jump. And as I move from room to room putting such happy clothes away, the tiny toys and messes turn into an eclectic dance of creativity. Proof of play. Opening and closing drawers as each is filled and the rhythm of laundry is completed. Accomplishment but also realizing that life is okay. Because when you're an artist who feels more colors than others a happy day is more of a poem. The ease of two glasses of wine but none actually poured. And surely I will come crashing down once again, but for now I am the butterfly that doesn't remember being a caterpillar."
And that was all before lunch.
