Happy people are happy because they choose to be. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told.
In my 20 years of life, I have encountered struggles. I’ve overcome difficult health battles, lost friends, lost loved ones. However, the last six months have been the hardest of my life—because I lost myself.
I’ve always been an extremely overtly happy person, constantly laughing and smiling. Something changed.
I found myself scheduling hangouts with friends like appointments, no longer indulging in spontaneous adventures. I avoided everything that I was previously so passionate about. But, I still met my friends with forced laughter and a smile before returning to my room as soon as possible, losing the smile and crawling into bed.
I would go to sleep at night praying that I wouldn’t wake up, no longer having the energy to get out of bed in the morning. I lost my appetite and barely ate. I was mentally exhausted. I was terrified to show anyone in my life that I wasn’t happy. I was someone who laughed with people, who helped people, who made other people feel better. That’s why people liked me. I couldn’t show them this side of me, but I hated being alone. I didn’t know how to balance hiding my desperate sadness, while also fulfilling my desperate need to be around others. I didn’t have the energy or strength to act “happy enough” to be around people, so I canceled my plans with friends and spent more time alone. It was easier this way.
My feelings of loneliness peaked at a dinner when one of my best friends said to me, “you’re one of the happiest people I’ve ever met.” I smiled and excused myself, and, soon after going back to my room, dissolved into tears. If only they saw the countless nights I sat in bed from 8 p.m. until 4 a.m., unable to sleep, consumed by anxiety and feeling as if the walls of my small dorm room were closing in on me. If only they saw the late afternoons I would turn on the shower before falling to the bathroom floor so my roommates wouldn’t hear me sob. I felt completely alone, like I barely knew myself and like all of my friends had no idea who I was.
I still couldn’t admit to myself that I was depressed. Depression meant weakness. I wasn’t weak. I was successful and a high achiever, attending an elite university. I also felt guilty for my sadness. I lived a privileged life surrounded by people who cared about me. I didn’t have the right to be depressed.
I didn’t want to share my weakness or burden my friends with my sadness. My biggest fear was that the people around me would feel the same emptiness that I felt. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, so I overcompensated by going out of my way to make others happy, pushing my problems farther into the dark. But as I kept everything to myself, I began to resent the people around me. Everyone seemed so happy all the time. All I wanted was one day where I didn’t wake up with this unbearable heavy feeling. I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore.
I was so scared to let people in, to share my struggles and weakness with others. Above all else, I was scared that my friends would think of me differently. I was wrong. By sharing my experiences, I grew closer to the friends I had been shutting out and pushing away for months. I realized how much the people who loved me wanted to help me if I would let them. I was surprised by how so many of my friends who seemed so happy to me were actually struggling with similar battles. I was met with understanding, compassion and love.
Although my struggles are ongoing, I felt compelled to share some of the most important things I’ve learned in the last few months:
- Let the people who matter in
We are reluctant to share the struggles we face with others. Society teaches us showcase the happy side of our lives. We Instagram photos of us laughing and living our “best” lives. We Snapchat quick videos of us raging at parties, screaming in excitement at concerts and singing along to songs with a car full of friends. We try to portray ourselves as constantly carefree and happy, which is incredibly unrealistic. It can be incredibly beneficial to share your struggles with the people who care about you. I had the belief that I could help myself and fix all of my own problems. However, I’ve realized that by opening up, I not only helped myself, but grew closer to the important people in my life.
- Be a little selfish
I always want to help people, sometimes even at my own expense. I realized that in a lot of areas in my life, I was going above and beyond for the people around me, without getting the same in return. That’s not to say that the people around me aren’t great friends or people. I just wasn’t taking the time to put myself first. Put yourself first—whether that be making the difficult decision to cut off toxic friendships, staying in on a Friday night or saying no to helping a friend because you need to help yourself.
- Choose to do what makes you better
I’ve shifted my mentality from “do what makes you happy” to “do what makes you better.” Sometimes, you won’t be happy. Maybe it will be for a day, for a few weeks or for much longer. In these times, there may be nothing that can make you happy. But there are things that can make you better. I used to wake up every day so desperately wanting to “choose” happiness. Instead of focusing so much on happiness, focus and choose to do things that make you better.
I’m still not completely happy, and may never will be, but I can say that I am better.