Learning to Be Happy When Happy Wasn’t a Safe Emotion

I’ve experienced the lowest of the lows — now it’s time to reach for the highest of the highs

I just had the most epic weekend. Although, you might not think so when you hear me describe it — I imagine it would seem ordinary and even boring to most people. But to me, it was phenomenal.

I celebrated the weekend of the autumn equinox picking apples, cooking, cuddling up on my sofa with a blanket and my latest knitting project, watching moody mystery shows, and drinking lattes and kombuchas.

I only left the house once in three days and that was also the only time I spent with another human being. And I loved every second of it.

What inspired this bacchanal? The aforementioned equinox, of course!

Autumn is my absolute favorite season. I can’t get enough, and with the rush of back-to-school September and the rapid changes of October that unfold straight into holiday season-November, it all seems to go by much faster than the other three seasons.

So each year, I get a little more determined to prioritize my enjoyment of autumn. Last year, I created a little tea nook in my kitchen so I could make my own chai lattes and other fall favorites right here at home.

This year, I decided to celebrate the equinox exactly the way I wanted: relaxing, knitting, and sipping tea.

In fact, looking back on it, there’s only one thing that I think could have made it even more perfect: if I had truly gone all out, decorating and cooking the way I would for an actual party…and then simply not invite anyone and enjoy the entire fete all by myself.

And that’s when I realized this equinox was about to drop an important lesson on me…

I’ve always been a deeply feeling person. Since we’re talking about the seasons here, I think you’ll understand me when I say my emotional landscape tends to be a “deep winter.”

Oh, I can go deep and I can go dark.

It’s something I’ve been criticized for my entire life. People have told me to be happy, be light, be more fun, as if there’s a switch I can flip.

Or…as if feeling those more challenging feelings (sadness, grief, hopelessness, uncertainty) are bad or unhealthy in some way.

I really, really hate how prevalent that belief is in our culture. As someone who has struggled with depression for most of her life, due to unacknowledged and untreated sexual trauma, I have often felt like a failure. My friends have always been able to get drunk and let loose not just at parties, but for any opportunity. Most people I know would proudly state that they like to “keep things positive.” And I can’t remember a time when I haven’t heard someone tell me to stop crying when going through a difficult moment.

It’s as if openly experiencing darker emotions is a mark of weakness. And sadly, I grew up believing that about myself. I feel those emotions so deeply — which meant, I thought, I wasn’t strong. I wasn’t as successful at this human thing as everyone else seemed to be.

In middle age, however, I’ve come to believe my emotional depth and willingness to experience those more challenging feelings is a strength. It takes courage to travel through the darker emotions.

But as I’ve celebrated my depth, I’ve begun realizing that perhaps it’s time to balance that with more willingness to experience the lighter emotions, too.

CW: sexual assault

Suffering became a daily occurrence when I was 12. In my defense, it wasn’t some angsty teenage choice I made. No, I suffered because I was almost daily sexually assaulted by several boys at my school.

I had reported it to teachers multiple times, with no success. They didn’t take it seriously in some cases, and others blamed me because, as they noted, my breasts were very large and I wore jean skirts a lot, and young men were unable to control themselves around that kind of “temptation,” I was told.

I can’t even begin to describe the pain of waking up every morning wondering what hell I would have to endure each day.

Eventually, my parents moved me to a new school, but instead of being assaulted, I was verbally bullied by multiple students. Then I transferred yet again and the bullying got worse.

Eventually, I came to believe that that was all there was to life. There were people who were at the top of the pack, and people like me, at the bottom. And each day, all I could do was wonder how bad it was going to be.

I often think about the emotional consequences of spending your teen years in such a state. It’s a critical time of development — and during that time, I spent six of those years severely depressed because of constant bullying and abuse.

That is what prepared me for the world as a young adult — and what a horrific way to enter that world.

As my therapist often reminds me, I learned how to manage my darkest feelings — because that was literally all I had the capacity to do. There wasn’t much room for joy, hope, or excitement. All I could do was try to get through the days.

Ultimately, I believe that left my emotional development somewhat stunted. I could travel dexterously across one half of the spectrum of human emotion — but traveling past the halfway point into the territory of the “lighter” emotions was much more difficult. Those muscles had never had a chance to be stretched.

If I asked you to describe your capacity for joy, what would you say? Can you hit the highest of the highs? Do you feel happy frequently, or is it more of an anomaly?

You can probably guess my answers.

I spent a lot of time hiking up hills and mountainsides this summer — and I did so purposefully, with the intention of strengthening my legs, building my endurance, and expanding my capacity for physical discomfort.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’ve felt similarly about my emotional journey this past season. I need to build up the muscles that get me to “happy,” learn how to carry these feelings longer, and even expand my capacity to feel them, at all. Because that’s uncomfortable, too.

You see, it doesn’t feel safe to be happy. Or excited. Or hopeful. Or even content. For a very long time, whenever I felt those feelings, the next thing I knew, those boys would come running up behind me and… Or classmates would chant at me that I was fat, fat, ugly rat. Or pass me a note with a message scrawled on it that would make me cry.

Crashing into fight or flight responses during these regular occurrences made me feel like lighter emotions were just too dangerous. They kept me from being guarded and withdrawn, always on the lookout for what might come next. They kept me from remembering that I had seemingly no control over what happened to me. And they kept me in an emotional cycle in which I was literally crashing into suicidal depression every time an incident interrupted my joy.

It felt so much safer to stay low — literally.

Over the last two years that I’ve diligently worked with a new therapist, my lows have been so much less low. And even less frequent. This progress makes me feel incredibly proud.

But I’m even prouder of the fact that I’m learning to build my capacity for joy. Admittedly, I did have a recent crash thanks to three weeks of choking air pollution — but overall, this past summer has been one for the books.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy.

It has taken so much work to go back into the past and bring Young Yael here into the present moment with me. To teach her that things are different now. I’m in charge. And I’m going to protect her.

And with that work, Young Yael has started testing the boundaries of her sorrow. Turns out they aren’t as expansive as she once believed.

As I sat knitting on my happy equinox weekend, I heard her voice. She’s the one who said, “We should’ve had a party. Just for us.”

That’s when I realized the lesson of this equinox season for me. I have traveled through the lowest of lows…but never the highest of highs. I have retreated all the way in…but never burst all the way out. I have made sure to celebrate everyone…but almost never myself.

Wouldn’t my equinox weekend have been all the more amazing had I set out an entire table of party food? And decorated my house as if I was inviting all my friends over for an autumnal celebration?

How far can I push this envelope? How much joy am I capable of feeling? How much love can I show myself?

I have no idea. But I’m about to find out…

© Yael Wolfe 2023

Yael Wolfe is a writer, artist, and photographer. You can find more of her work at yaelwolfe.com. If you love her writing, leave her a tip over at Ko-fi.

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