I am Capable of Joy

Sometimes, I feel depressed. Okay, let’s be real. I’m often depressed. I get so depressed that I forget what happiness feels like. This is not to say that my life is sucked of all happiness or that I am unable to extract joy from simple pleasures. I like bubble tea and iced coffee and cute puppies just as much as the next girl. But most of the time, I just feel kind of blah, trudging along in my path and more often than not, I slip, I struggle and get stuck in the mud. Like really stuck.

But every so often, I feel a spark of something. It is exciting, and it helps me remember that I am capable of pleasant human emotions. When I’m at the beach, and the sky is blue, and the waves are rippling and sparkling all shades of turquoise, I am happy. When I am sitting — front and center — in the dark movie theater, watching trailers on the big scene with surround sound blaring into my ears, I am happy. When I am sitting across my brother, and there is a plate of sushi in front of me, and we are laughing and joking, I am aware of how much I love this little bugger, and I am happy.

My happiness is brief, and it is tainted with the fear that the endorphin rush will soon end, that I will be transported back to my place of misery. But for those few previous moments, I am free. I am filled with so much hope. And even though I’ve only been able to come up with a handful of things that really and truly make me happy, I am grateful for them. I have found that I am capable of joy, and I am trying my best to cling to such life.