Posted on by crystal · 22 Comments

The secret to happiness …

… is probably that nobody knows what it is.

We all have to find out for ourselves. Maybe because happiness – like wealth – is different for everyone. There are days when I have 50K in my account, but I feel broke because my debts are five times that. And there are days I find a random 50 bob in my jeans pocket and feel like a billionaire.

The year has just started, and I’ve found a new definition of happiness. For me, happiness is ‘feeling enough’. Because from a practical perspective, my life is awesome. I’ve ticked off a lot of my boxes and I’m doing good. I’ve even shed weight. It wasn’t on purpose, and the circumstances sucked, but shed weight is shed weight so yay! Now to keep it off … or maybe shift it around?

via GIPHY

(I typed *lost* weight, then heard a random voice from my dalliance with Buddhism. A voice that said, “When you lose something you’ll find it again, so maybe don’t use that word for something … unless you want it back.”)

I think I’m a happy person. Because the silliest things make me giggle, I’m easily amused, and my brightness bubbles up like a child. But I’ve had lifelong cycles of anxiety/depression, which doesn’t quite fit with me being happy.

The past few days have been especially harsh. Lots of tears, lots of reflection, and finally, a realisation that all my dark days arise from feeling not-enough. I get into the space of fear and despair. I look at those around me and start to measure myself against them. And because the view is skewed, I fall short.

Expectation vs reality

Result? I scramble to catch up, making dumb decisions out of fear. Or worse, I sink into a hole, feeling I’ll never catch up – why even try? I’m not good enough to be in the same lane, or even the same race. I’m just not worth the effort, or the time. It’s a scary place to be, and a life-defeating one. Literally.

Not-enough-ness frequently dumps me in a spiral and leaves me there. So I figure if I can keep my happiness self-contained, if I can convince myself I’m enough for me, then I’m good. And if the forces around me try to put me down, I’ll know I’m enough for *me* even if I’m not enough for them.

via GIPHY

It’s easy to drown out unwanted voices. Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. Fiction. But when the unwanted voices come from the inside … and they know how to swim … things get a little tricky. So my task for the year is to shush that voice in my head, to talk back when it says I’m not enough. To look it in the eye, smile, and say, ‘Yes, I am. I’m enough for me. Even if I’m not enough for you.’

I don’t want to get angry though. Or mean. Or unkind. I don’t want my self-sourced happiness to be a weapon against the world. I don’t want to get so militant in my *happiness* that it turns into bile I readily splash at others. I want my happiness to be mine, and I want it to be all about me.

And when the darkness tempts me to take off the blind-fold and see what ‘others’ are doing, lures me into exploring the pantone of their grass, I can say nah, I’m good right here. It seems like such a simple thing in theory. I just don’t know how to make it … real. Luckily, I have this year to find out.

♫ Walk on Water ♫ Thirty Seconds to Mars ♫

Posted on by crystal · 118 Comments

Of cats and stuff

One of my favourite songs at the moment is Say something by JT and Chris Stapleton. Another is Nowhere Fast by Eminem and Kehlani. I looked up the lyrics and noticed Google is kind of shortchanging sites like Az lyrics. I like it coz it’s purple and well laid out, used it for years. It was almost always at the top of search rankings.

But nowadays Google puts lyrics on its own home page, so you don’t have to click on the lyrics sites. I get that it’s about monopoly easy access, but I feel bad for all the sites that are losing traffic over this. My entire income model is based on helping businesses get more web traffic, so I feel kinda sad when the machine turns against them. It’s kind of like the twinge I feel when I search for mpesa rates and the first five hits are from a website that isn’t Safaricom.

#BiacharaNeBiachara

♫ But if at times my heart it seems like it’s in the wrong place ♫
♫ It’s probably ’cause it’s on my sleeve ♫

I’ve dated a lot of younger guys who were mama’s boys. It’s probably a Freudian thing, but that’s not really the point. I told one of them that I like Eminem. He said: ‘You like a guy who insults his mum?!?’ I said: ‘I don’t like that he does it … I just like how he does it.’

Because Marshall talks a lot of shit about a lot of stuff. Stuff he really shouldn’t be talking shit about. But the way he does it, Lord! I love a word-smart man, that’s all. And Marshall can play with my words anytime.

Sometimes I think I’d like to meet him. I think a man that plays with words like that must have a beautiful mind, and I’d like to get inside that head. It’s what draws me to a lot of the guys I end up with – their ability to turn a phrase. It shows a very specific kind of intelligence, and those smarts turn me way up. Of course they also tend to be mean-spirited and aloof, that’s the downside of their genius. That’s probably a Freudian thing as well.

I’m listening to music again. That’s good, I’m excited about that. I’m not all there yet, but music is a good sign. Also, I’m buying a freezer. For my cats. Because they eat a lot, and I don’t have a car yet, so I have to go to Gigiri every two weeks to get them frozen meat. With a freezer, I can go once a month and save 1K on uber. Yes, I’m bougie like that, and yes, I’m a cat lady.

Meet Tux, Arya, and Remi

I usually jav to Gigiri and uber back, because it’s hard carrying 20kg of cat mince in two matatus on opposite ends of the CBD. I recently discovered I can have the cat mince delivered by nduthi, but it still costs about a K, so either way, cutting down the trip to once a month saves me a lot. It also gives me extra space in my fridge, which is almost always full of cat food.

So I’m buying them a separate freezer. Because I can. And because I want to. It’s a lesson I’m learning of late. That I don’t always have to second-guess or justify my actions. Sometimes, I can just do shit because I can, and because I want to. It feels kinda nice. A form of self love I suppose.

When you have cyclic anxiety and depression, sometimes, life doesn’t seem like it’s worth living. And that sense of hopelessness is triggered by the tiniest things. A missed call that wasn’t returned. A bounced date that wasn’t rescheduled. A sharp look from the teenager. It’s scary how fast you go from, ‘Well, that wasn’t very nice,’ to ‘Maybe I should jump in front of that bus.’

It’s not a conscious mental progression. It’s reflex, automatic. It’s how the depressive brain is wired, and it’s something you have to live with, forever. Getting better isn’t about stopping the reflex, coz that never stops. Recovery is about spotting the thought, noticing it’s there … and choosing not to act on it. It’s a part of you. It’s a part of me, But it’s not a part we have to act out.

♫ Rumour has it ♫ Adele ♫

Posted on by crystal · 125 Comments

Letting shit go

I’ve been in a depressive spell for a few months now. It’s different from the ones I’ve had before, although to be fair, every low cycle has been different since I started therapy. I guess they just manifest in a different way.

The symptoms are the same. Persistent exhaustion, skipped showers, lack of appetite, lost interest in reading and music. The things that make me happy no longer do. And lately, it comes with inexplicable anger.

My therapist says anger is a secondary emotion. It masks something I’m not willing to deal with. In my case, it’s grief. I feel like something very dear to me is gone, and even though I know it’s all in my head, the feelings persists.

Feelings aren’t facts, but they still do a pretty good job of fucking shit up so …

And so I find myself resigned. Waiting for the end. What you resist persists, right? The funny thing is … it’s a cycle. Fox chasing tail. I once read about ‘the leaving dance’. It’s like when you’re on a date, or a party conversation. You’re both enjoying it and nobody wants to stop, but it has to end sometime.

So you start to do the leaving dance. Straightening your skirt or tie, glancing at the door, your watch, the waiter, the people around you. You begin to fidget, shifting from one leg to another. Your feet face the door then turn back to the person you’re with. Your fingers twitch, you can’t relax.

You know you should go, but you want to stay, and you’re both wishing the other person will make that decision for you. You want them to gather the courage to leave, or give you a reason to stay. But you’re both stuck.

I feel like I’m doing a leaving dance, and it sucks. I keep hoping to find a reason to stay, but the more I fight the feeling, the deeper it nestles in. I suppose it all comes from a fear of abandonment, so I Googled how to deal with it. Google offered this article with a helpful list of do’s and don’ts. It starts with everything I’ve been doing so far. It’s all subconscious, and detrimental:

  • Expecting too much from your person.
  • Squashing your insecure feelings.
  • Manipulating them into validating you.
  • Masking insecurity with coyness and anger.
  • Altering your personality to keep them.
  • Making them responsible for your feelings.
  • Hating yourself for being so insecure.

The article then suggests a few things you should do instead:

  • Cut yourself some slack. You didn’t choose to be scared. You just are.
  • Everybody’s scared of something. You’re not weak. You’re human.
  • That said, you can choose to stop putting them in charge of your feelings …
  • And don’t ask them to make you feel better, even if they triggered it …
  • Because triggering something isn’t causing it…
  • It’s just reminding you of something that happened before.
  • So maybe deal with that thing. The one that happened before.
  • Though you have to figure it out first.
  • Also, rely on yourself emotionally …
  • But don’t isolate. It’s not the same thing.
  • It’s about finding peace inside, not shutting everyone outside.
  • (I have no idea how to do this, and neither does Huffpost.)

Point is no matter how much someone loves me, it’s not their job to make me feel secure. It’s mine. And if I outsource to them for too long, they’ll get tired, give up, and leave. Self-fulfilling prophesy. Oddly, fighting the insecurity makes it stronger and widens the wedge. The trick is to discover why I feel insecure and fix that instead. Not the insecurity, but its root source. The source has nothing to do with this situation, it just inadvertently triggered it.

The leaving dance puts the other person in charge. It makes it their job to extend your time together. And if you both dance, then you both lose. So maybe you take a chance. Maybe you ask if you can stay. And maybe the next time you dance, they’ll do the asking.

And even if they don’t, it’s okay. You don’t have to blame them. You don’t have to blame yourself. It doesn’t always have to be somebody’s fault. Sometimes, shit just doesn’t work out, and that’s life. As they say on twitter, ke sera sera. #Sic #NoTypo #KOT

They say people learn to be incompatible. During the honeymoon stage, everything is roses. But with time, everything about the one you love feels … wrong. They haven’t changed, and neither have you. It’s just … well … the pheromones are gone so you’ve stopped masking their flaws, and they’ve stopped masking yours. At this point, you can make an active choice to work shit out. But … turns out some things are just too deep to resolve.

I told myself I’d know the depression was starting to lift when I actively sought my earphones. And as I type, I’m listening to music for the first time in more than a month. Except … I don’t feel lighter. I just feel … resigned. Maybe I’m looking for something I can’t have. And maybe it’s time to give up.

♫ Say something ♫ justin timberlake ft chris stapleton ♫