Happiness: A Trigger for Anxiety?

How could happiness ever be a bad thing? For some time now, it’s preceded some of my worst moments….

Last year, my husband and I attempted to watch a rom-com on Netflix. I had a panic attack and slipped into psychosis symptoms.

Today, I had forgotten about that incident and my vow to only consume realism media, and when I stumbled across a teen nostalgia movie, I skipped into a Saturday afternoon of Clueless (1995).

I enjoyed the movie, laughed out loud—laughed at my youth—even wrote a film review and called my husband to share it. I warmed a late lunch and sat down…barely able to breathe.

Anxiety.

Anxiety preceded by happiness. My brain just won’t allow it: happiness. I don’t know if it’s solely a guard against mania, or if I’m also panicking because I’m subconsciously afraid of imminent disappointment.

Life is stressful—too stressful. The breaks in the stress are short. Anytime the phone rings or the mail comes or even when Steven goes to speak, my reflex is to brace for bad news.

Being “happy” during the breaks just means farther to fall when the break abruptly ends.

It’s gotten better. I made it a full two hours before my mind called the cops and shut down the party. Last year, I stopped Hugh Grant and Sarah Jessica Parker mid-way through renewing their marriage. Maybe Sam Elliot’s smooth voice overwhelmed me, but I think it’s more likely recent trauma is the reason I don’t know how Did You Hear About the Morgans? ends.

A year makes a difference. 365 days of practicing coping skills and establishing better self-care habits leads to calmer days, more frequent moments of joy, and an overall more satisfying sense of wellbeing.

Maybe the next rom-com won’t be  crashed by impending doom and its sidekick anxiety….