Do you ever find yourself missing the actual feeling of happiness?
The kind that comes when you step outside and REALLY notice the trees, the birds, the butterflies, the flowers, the clouds, and even the rainbows. Lately, that feeling has been absent. Why am I feeling like this?... like I am missing my happiness? Maybe it’s because its been a long, scorching AZ summer and I haven't wanted to go outside (who in their right mind wants to go outside right now?) Hmm. Is it because of that recent argument? The big one. Or was it the bigger one before that? Maybe it’s the sum of all the late nights reliving that same old fight.
Um, why am I crying? Is it because of that one summer—behind closed doors—where I couldn’t get there fast enough? Is it because I never gave myself the space to grieve my grandma, too busy holding onto anger at my father? Or maybe it’s because I told my cousin that family secret no one ever talks about, only because I wanted to protect them.
And then I start to wonder: How long have I lived with this? Did my anxiety just appear one day, or has it always been here, hiding under the surface? Am I more prone to it because of everything I’ve been through? Did it start when I was a kid or when I was or when I was in high school? Did getting taken away from my parents as a young child cause this? (Thank you God for giving us back). Or was it already there, quietly growing in me, uncovering itself through years of unspoken hurt? Those poor babies in Gaza. All over the world my heart cries for those poor babies.
Man, I have a lot of questions.
Is this my anxiety talking from deep inside my brain? Is it the medication? The PCOS I haven’t thought about in a while? Am I doing okay? I’m not sure… is that a rainbow? Wow. It’s so beautiful and big.
You know what the medical assistant asked me so nonchalantly yesterday that made me cry? “So you’ve had three pregnancies but two births?”
Yes.
“So the other was a miscarriage?”
Yes.
Ouch, why did that sting so deeply? Could that pregnancy have been an actual life inside of me? Does this come down to what I believe about life at conception? Was that miscarriage... a baby... that I never gave myself time to actually grieve? I didn’t want another baby, but why does this suddenly, feel so real? Is it that rainbow in the sky? ...I think she existed. The word slipped out of me before I could stop it: she. I think she was a girl. Today she would have been a 2nd grader-- the age my oldest daughter was in that cute and hilarious memory repost I made this morning. That was back around when it happened now that I think of it. Why does time fly so quickly? Yet so darn slow.
That's right-- I was in the middle of missing my own happiness.
Saying hello to my anxiety, my old, familiar friend.
Anxiety does this to me—it shakes me awake and reminds me that I need to care for myself again.
...But how do you do that when your whole world revolves around the people you love? The people you literally stay functioning for. What about my job? What about my personal goals? Do I even have time for those?
Hi, Anxiety. Thank you for reminding me to pause. To regather. To claim a moment that is mine, even if just for a breath.
I am so thankful for every understanding soul I’ve crossed paths with—coworkers, managers, friends, kin (heavy on the kin). Their presence is what keeps me tethered when the questions won’t stop spinning.
Man I miss my grandma.
But maybe, just maybe, that rainbow is telling me I’m not alone. That even in my hardest moments, love shows up—sometimes as people, sometimes as memories, and sometimes as unexpected color in the sky after the storm.
Hello, Anxiety, my old friend. You remind me I’m human. You remind me I still care. And maybe that means I can learn to care for myself again, too. One small step, one gentle moment at a time.
(Will not leave out my sweet friends. Rest peacefully Carly and Trevor, I love you more than you probably knew).
🌈 Friendly Reminder to You🌈
If you live with anxiety, depression, or other mental health challenges—please know this: it is okay to ask for help. You are not weak for needing rest or support. Many workplaces offer resources like FMLA or short-term leave so you can step back and care for yourself. That’s the point of their existence.
Anxiety is real. Depression is real. Mental health is real.
...I know this because my doctor, my therapist, and my manager all reminded me the same thing: you don’t have to carry it all alone.
So take your moment. Ask for help if you need it. Breathe. You are worthy of care.
Comments