Being Happy

What is happy? Everyone has different definitions for that five letter word. The medical term is defined as endorphins being released in the brain making you feel good. When I was about ten years old, I lost the ability to produce those endorphins. Being a victim of bullying throughout my childhood left me with this disease of not being “happy.” I fell in love with music and theatre but other people who shared the same interests were better than me and they made sure I knew it. I lost all motivation to do simple things such as shower, eat, clean my room, or taking care of my well being in general. I ended up slowly loosing my happiness little by little and because of that, I didn't realize the damage that was being done. It took me until I was crying myself to sleep and slicing my own skin for the ability to breath to realize, I am not okay.

At the age of seventeen I couldn't take it much longer. The few moments of clarity I was able to achieve by those nights alone with that cold blade wasn't enough anymore. I was suffocating myself with my disease and I wanted a way out but I didn't have the guts to do it myself. I didn't want to sleep anymore because no matter how much I slept I still woke up tired. So I wanted an easier way to sleep without the tears also with the risk of getting out of my own prison cell I called a mind. So I took pellets of escape, little pills to knock myself out for a couple hours; anything from Advil to NyQuil, whatever I got my hands on was good enough. When the pain got too much I had a little escape that held no commitment. I became friends with benefits with these medications of different names, let them unravel the strings, remove the fabrics of my mind. They lay bare with me and let me go blank for a couple hours. I was content, which at the time was my definition of “happy.”

One day my friends with benefits planned my demise and while I thought I was taking an okay amount to help me sleep I soon realized I was very wrong. The pain in my stomach became unbearable, time became disoriented, I became lightheaded and completely exhausted. If it weren't for my friend staying on the phone with me, I might not have been here to type this story. He stayed with me, standing in my neighbor's driveway making sure I stayed awake, stayed alive. Soon minutes were hours, and next thing I know the contents of my stomach were in the toilet, and I was traveling in and out of consciousness, only aware enough to hear my brother screaming and crying to call an ambulance. After dealing with a very mean paramedic and a very terrifying couple of hours in the emergency psychiatric ward, I was admitted into the hospital that night for a total of eight days. During that time I was scared half to death by the other people in there and almost got into 2 fights, which I'm glad I didn't because it would've prolonged my stay even longer. The doctors told me I had two mental diseases: depression and anxiety. They gave me medicine to help make me “happy,” to help me with my diseases that controlled me for so long.

Since then I have been getting better. Not like a flying arrow heading to reach its destination in the blink of an eye, but more like a man lost in the middle of nowhere trying to find his way home. I will make mistakes, I may have to go back, and I might want to give up but I won’t. Im taking a deep breath and moving forward. I know that my destination will be worth so much more than my journey, that everything I went through in my life will actually be worth it. I look back at the days since the hospital and I have already come so far. I somehow gained the courage to chase after my first love, music. Not only was I able to get a job that I actually like but I managed to get promoted to assistant manager in less than a month. At school, I became vice president for NCC Nerdvana, which is an amazing club where people can go do nerdy things, working to make the club a better place. Then I met him. At the time when I wasn't looking he stumbled into my life. When I told him about my past he stayed and instead of leaving moved closer and hugged me harder. He showed me it's possible to love, to be loved. He also showed me that love doesn't last forever. That sometimes you love people more than they love you, and they will leave you. They will leave you empty and alone wishing you didn't exist; but that's important. Without that feeling of emptiness and sadness, we would not know the feeling of “happiness.” If we constantly felt “happy,” we will only ever be content. With sadness we can compare and actually fully feel “happiness” and appreciate it because we've felt the lack of it.

You ask me to pick a time when I was “happy” when “happy” is just a word with endless definitions. If I had to go by any of them, I would say I haven't experienced it yet. The truth is, I’m glad I haven't because it gives me something to look forward to during the times when I feel alone and sad. I just hope that one day I can experience true “happiness.” Maybe then I’ll know what all the fuss is about.