Bit by Bit
Sam and I drive out of town. There is no traffic despite it being rush hour, the COVID-19 effect. It is a Wednesday and we are hiding from the 14-year-old we live with. We are headed to Snake Hill to get a run. As we drive Sam is talking to me about mountain bike trails. He is talking and pausing and smiling and laughing. And he takes a breath and says, “Mountain biking makes me feel like a kid again, stoked to see what’s around the next turn. What makes you feel that way?”
I get very quiet and I feel the heat and pressure of tears coming. They start to stream down my cheeks and I hate them, each little drop, as they go.
And I realize that nothing makes me feel this way. We are driving up the mountain now, rhododendron bushes line the road and the smell of their soil pads my aching chest.
Sam sees that I am crying and he starts to panic because I don’t do much crying. He asks me if I’m ok, what happened, what’s wrong.
I tell him this devastating revelation. I tell him and then we pull in the parking lot at the trailhead and I climb out of the truck quickly and gather my things. He gathers too and we take off out the trail. We are walking and both of us feel heavy with this news of mine. Too heavy for running and so we walk and we talk and I keep searching my brain for the things that used to make me feel these ways. I keep asking myself why don’t they still do that for me? I’m thinking and talking, rattling really.
We do that for a long time; Sam listening, positing, and me rattling. We come to a rock outcrop and stand on its edge. A small chill in the breeze blows against our tired skin. I feel the energy of the woods make room for the vibrating nervousness I’ve brought with me. There is no pretense here for me, just my little bored heart looking for what it is that brings me joy in this world.
On the way home I say to Sam, “Dancing, dancing makes me feel that way.” And it is true, it does. But this problem is too great to be solved with a walk. And so I bring it to my therapist. The therapist I am so so so lucky to have. I bring it to him and we go back and forth a while about joy and when I’ve felt it the most in my life and what I thought was stopping me from experiencing it now.
And this is what he asks me, he said, “How many times a day do you tell yourself not to do something that you like or want to do?” I answer a lot of other questions in response to that one, all of them excuses. And so he gives me some homework, he tells me to write down how many times a day I deny myself something. Just a simple tally. I did the tally but here are some of the things that stick out in my mind.
1. Instead of putting on a song I want to hear, I put on something that I think the whole car will be more comfortable with.
2. Instead of making salmon or shrimp or something with veggies that I like and will be perfectly happy with, I choose a less healthy option that whole house will eat.
3. Because there are other people in the house, I don’t put on music and dance around. I put it in my headphones and sit still.
4. Instead of hiking in the rain or going boating or swimming, I stay inside because not everyone in the house is excited about water or the cold and I’d rather do something everyone can be happy about.
5. Instead of shaving all at once in the shower, something that takes time, I get done quickly so that the bathroom is clear for everyone else.
6. When I’m hot, I don’t turn down the AC because other folks might get cold.
7. When Sam has to work late, I condemn myself to working late as well, or I will do chores in the interest of us having more time at another point. Another point that often never materializes.
8. When I want to watch TV but someone else is already watching something, I don’t say anything or make it known that I’d like to watch something else. I just accept that I won’t get to watch what I want even if that person has been watching TV for a while or that person is watching something they’ve already seen.
This is in no way a complete list and while all of these might sound like I’m just a considerate person, these are not isolated incidents. This is a systematic removal of all the things I love to do. And worse even, no one asked me to remove these things from my life, I just began doing so because it felt like I should be this conciliatory person above all else. I began removing these things because I didn’t want to disturb the peace in my household. Truly, I began removing these things because I didn’t want to piss off the 14-year-old that I live with. Because it took more energy to have the fight than would be restored by any one of these daily moments of joy on their own. Slowly, over the course of the year I have lived with this 14-year-old, I’ve taken my own joy bit by bit for fear of having a confrontation.
I’ll repeat that, over the last year I’ve taken my own joy.
It would be very easy to point at this 14-year-old and think that she had stolen it from me. That is, in fact, exactly how I was feeling about it. But that is not what has happened. Because I am my own person. And I am in charge of my feelings. And even more, I am in charge of my actions.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve started trying to take back my joy bit by bit. Making the lunch I want to make. Putting music on and dancing in my own house. Expressing my opinion when I want something to happen or not happen. The other day I had just stepped into the shower and someone knocked on the door and I just didn’t respond. Because I never bug them when they are in the bathroom or the shower. And I took my time and shaved my armpits and you know what, the person who knocked didn’t pee their pants. They made it. I’ve been playing whatever songs I want to hear. I bought an entire watermelon last week and I’m the only one in my house that likes it. Today I wanted to get up early and go for a morning bike ride and I did. And in the last few weeks when Sam has had to work late, I’ve just stopped at my normal time and read or gone for a walk or took my sweet time with dinner or whatever thing I felt like doing.
And I already feel my sense wonder and childlike joy coming back to me. And how cool that is. How cool it is that I can reclaim my joy bit by bit. How cool it is that anyone can. Even you.