It was a simple question with a simple answer. Of course, I wasn’t afraid to be happy. Everyone in this world is fighting to find their forever happiness. But as the question started to seep into my brain and I looked at the source of the question, someone I loved more than anything, I realized it was valid.
And the more it simmered the more I started to realize that maybe I fear happiness.
Was it because we’re taught to look for the next best thing? So as soon as anything feels like settling to me something internally starts to make me panic. It makes me panic so much that I start to self-sabotage. And it sounds dumb. It sounds so dumb that I allow myself to ruin my own happiness, but I do it daily. I do it so much that my own friends feel like they’re watching a car wreck they can’t intervene to stop.
Been there, done that
In my younger days, I was happy. I did not know I was happy because I was so miserable. That’s an oxymoron, huh? The misery came from trying so hard to be the best. But in looking back I really enjoyed that pursuit.
Chasing opportunities during the day followed by late nights in New York City watering holes. Waking up the next day hungover and starting all over again.
I know many happy people. They’re content. And I envy them. I’m jealous of their happiness. But mostly I’m jealous that they can feel true and unadulterated happiness. The kind that makes you feel like you’re walking on air. And they let themselves be loved. Because even though I love people and tell them I love them regularly, receiving love isn’t something I try to do.
Being afraid to be happy sounds stupid. It sounds like something I’m actively fighting. It sounds like I’m a coward who isn’t willing to let himself feel content. Someone who constantly must keep moving because as soon as the mundane sets in is when the depression gets kicked into overdrive.
Here come the excuses
Maybe it’s because I’m craving something more for my life. Maybe.
Maybe its because I was married to a narcissist for nineteen years who beat the happiness out of me.
Maybe it’s because my parents never seemed to be really happy. Oh, they were comfortable with each other but never happy. They were sarcastic and had limited hope for their third child.
As far as I can tell, they had one goal for their three children. Marriage. They wanted their middle child and only daughter to get married. Nothing for their older or younger sons.
Success! or was it?
I finally hit the jackpot. She agreed to go out with me on a date. Not just any woman. This was a special woman. A beautiful woman. A woman who I met and worked with a decade earlier. That’s right. Ten years. After ten years, we start dating. And it was as good as I dreamed it would be. No, it was better.
So, you know what I did. I ended it. Just like that. I sat down with my dad and told him I wanted to marry her. He looked at me and convinced me she was too good for me.
I stared at his TV in silence.
I’m finally learning how to walk again after that “high five to the low two!”
And now for the truth
But really, it’s because I’m a coward. I’m too much of a coward to tell someone I love them. I’m too much of a coward to leave a situation I hate. I’m too much of a coward to start over one more time. I’m too much of a coward to admit to failure yet again.
Because if I’m being honest, truly honest, I am completely and utterly terrified to be happy. Living with the Narc is proof of that.
I am so scared of someone loving me back. I’m scared that I’ll wake up every day excited to start my day. I’m scared I’ll look in the mirror and love the person staring back at me. And that doesn’t make sense. Why would that scare me? But it does. It is a complete horror film to me that one day I could be happy.
I do have a dream. She and I are together. We are walking and talking and laughing. She is opening up to me. She is once again helping me believe that I matter. But, sadly, the dream turns into a nightmare when I am about to tell her what I think, and she evaporates into a burst of light. Poof! Gone.
What does happiness even mean anymore? Is it love? Is it passion? Is it money? Is it being a good parent? Is it everything rolled into one?
I could not speak to that one about the parent. The Narc made sure to demolish that relationship before, during, and after our marriage. I have two terrific sons who believe that the best way to honor their mother is to ignore their father. (me? Angry? Ya think?).
What it truly boils down to is my inability to see what I’m worth. And that’s the scariest sentence I’ve ever put into the universe. I am completely unsure of what I’m worth anymore. Because when I was a kid, I was reminded I wasn’t good enough. I was cut from the Junior Varsity basketball team after the second day of tryouts and my dad just looked at me and said, “You’re not good enough. Now, what’s for dinner?” And that sentiment was repeated in relationship after relationship. It was hammered into my head when I was passed over for a promotion. It’s what I still feel every time I do something that makes me unsure if it’s good enough. If I’m good enough.
So when I sabotage myself for the umpteenth time, it reminds me that I am, one hundred percent, not worth much. But I do it to myself. No one is doing it to me. No one has been whispering ‘you’re worthless’ as I stand in the mirror every morning. Only my mind.
And that’s sad. Sad I can admit that I am completely afraid to be happy. Sadly, I have looked to sabotage my own life so I can tell myself I told you so. It’s heartbreaking that I do this and continue to do it. It’s something I feel I can’t control anymore.
She did it, I allowed it
So, if you’re like me and afraid to be happy, if you’re not sure what your worth is, if you’re struggling with self-sabotage: the first step is admitting it. The second step is remembering you deserve to be happy. It’s hard work to rebuild yourself after feeling completely destroyed.
Knowing my parents had little faith in me to execute any type of life plan, I go and marry the narcissist of their choosing. A person who only cared about herself, and her lack of empathy. She wasn’t one bit troubled by any adverse impact her actions had on me or anyone else for that matter. She did her best to destroy my mental health, my physical health, my career, and my finances. Because you see, nothing mattered to her except maintaining her image. I experienced a nuclear attack day after day, night after night. She fought tooth and nail to bring about my social and/or actual death, including persuading other people (who I have never wronged in any way) to hate me just as much as she did, and to damage me intentionally, just like she did.
Survival means marching on
But I can do it. (If I want to do it). So today starts this journey of self-love. (Goodbye to self-loathing). It’s got to be better than this.
I am scared. Terribly scared. I’m afraid of never loving myself. Why would my kids want to love a self-loathing man? Why would the only woman I ever cared about have staid with such a despicable person?
But today. Today I take that first step and stop looking back to the person who’s too afraid to find true happiness. He’s standing there waiting for you to come back. Don’t let him win. And for heaven’s sake, stop thinking about the NARC!