On Saturday I had a moment where I felt truly content and happy. It was a sunny day, we went to the park, had a lovely dinner and I felt good. It was a type of happiness that I hadn't felt since Teddy died. As soon as I felt it, I begin to panic. If I felt this happy, then something awful was waiting.
The last time I felt that good, was a sunny spring day. I had coffee with my Mom, planned the nursery, and Justin and I headed to the doctor. As we waited for the doctor, we planned out how to announce what the gender of our baby was. How we would paint Harrison's hands and have him hold them up to the camera. We discussed a summer that would be spent creating a nursery and how we would manage raising two boys. The world felt perfect, and then it fell apart.
I don't trust happiness anymore. That is what I learned on Saturday. Happiness leads to fear. I actually wondered how I would be punished for feeling happy. What bad thing would happen? My counselor and I have chatted about this before. How it is normal, and a form or PTSD. How it will ease over time. How my anxiety disorder amplifies it, and how it will eventually ease.
This fear eats at me. It gnaws at my ability to sleep, and adds to my list of faults. I am scared of life. Anxious about the future. Drugs help, sleep helps, talking helps, prayer helps, but it doesn't go away. Sometimes, I think this must mean my faith is too small. My belief too weak, my heart to hard. How can I claim to have faith in God and be so scared? If I believe that God has a plan, why do I fear moments when I feel content in that plan? Why I am so weak and my faith so small?
I am human. I am weak. I am scared. I am anxious, and overwhelmed. Life hasn't been smooth and easy. Happiness is scary. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean I don't have faith. I have faith that I won't always feel this way. I have faith that God will help. I have support, and I will find a way to trust in happiness again.