The Fear of Joy

The Fear of Joy—it sounds like an odd concept, but I think there are many among us that carry it.

Alas, I do. And it came up for me during the week.

For me, as with most things, it was a way of being that got set early in life. When I was 5 or so I coined my existence as, A Life of a Thousand Deaths. Every day, it felt like I died. At night, the demons would come to nurture me back to health, but only enough so that I would feel hurt/pain when they killed me the next day. It’s a heavy story to live with. For my little boy, it made sense. I had nightmares every single night and these dreams were full of fear, where I was being hunted, where I was falling, where I was being attacked. I didn’t realize nightly nightmares wasn’t the norm until adulthood. The nightmares were for me a metaphor, or the fingerprint of the demons’ visitation.

Ever once in a while (once or twice a year), I would have a good day. The first few times that it happened, I wrapped hope around the idea that maybe things had improved. That the good day was a real thing. On a good day, I didn’t feel like I had died. I wondered whether God had decided that I had suffered enough, that I had been punished enough, and that I had been cleansed enough to be loved.

But as the years passed, I noticed a pattern. When I had a good day, the days that followed were not only bad they were extra bad. In my world, that meant that a good day had to be “paid for”. A good day meant extra bad days to make sure that I understood that nothing had changed, and that any sense of joy or happiness I got from the good days was swamped by extra pain.

I don’t remember my age— 10-12 range— but I had 3 good days in a row. I remember thinking how bizarre, how amazing it was, and part of me wondered, this must be it, this must mean that God had decided I had been punished enough. But sometime during that 3rd day, I recalled the pattern. And a kind of creeping terror began to fill me up. I thought, given the price I had paid for the random good days, what would be required of me to have 3 in a row? I went to bed feeling unsettled.

The next week was vicious. I don’t remember anything about it. I just have the emotional memory of it being extra, extra, extra bad. And I realized that feeling good, having happiness or joy, was to be feared because such feelings would have to in some way be “paid for.”

I have done a lot of personal work. I have confronted a pantheon of shadows. I have not consciously thought about my old fear of joy in a long time.

Since my husband died, I’ve had many good days (and bad days), I’ve had contentment, and challenges, and gratitude and grief. There have not been many days where I touched joy.

On Thursday, my old boss retired after 40 years (yes, give it up to her!). She invited me along with others past and present to Brennon’s, one of her favorite restaurants and a Houston institution. I interacted with colleagues that had moved on before I retired, members of my team that were still there, and of course the guest of honor. The energy was warm. I felt like I was with old friends instead of old colleagues. The food was great— I have celiacs, and I don’t normally do deserts, but they had Bananas Foster and I went for it. The pleasure of good food, having desert, the company, so many hugs!, left me feeling filled. I left with gratitude and joy.

A warm yumminess filled me up!

I wasn’t thinking about the fear of joy the next day. I woke up and did my morning yoga. I do a sitting side stretch, and though I was tight, I forced it. I realized that I had a strain on my ribcage/middle back. I had injured myself on that pose before and I knew not to workout. But 6 weeks ago, I blew out my biceps on preacher curls, and that day was the first day where my arm felt close to 100%. I wanted to work out, and I thought I could work around the strain.

I was wrong.

A few hours after the workout, my rib cage area / middle back began to spasm. It felt like the muscle was trying to jump my spine to the other side. The pain was intense. Even breathing triggered a spasm so I had to keep my breathing shallow (though I took advantage of the spasms to breathe deep as it started to ebb). I was howling and screaming through the night— I joked that it would have made a good Halloween tape had I thought to record it. The spasms were frequent. I tried many things without much effect.

And during the night, as I was howling and screaming, I remembered the old pattern. And I’ve been reflecting since then, is there a hidden part of me that judges that I must pay for my joy? Was that why I override my own common sense and went to the gym? Did I self-sabotage because that hidden part of me is tasked with running the pattern?

I’m not sure.

It’s why I’m writing this blog.

If that hidden shadow part of me exists, then I want it exposed. I want to see it. I want to be able to choose differently.

I want to break the power of that pattern.

I’ll see how that goes.

My intention, my statement of being, is that as a man, as a human, to embrace joy when it is offered. To embrace gratitude even when it is not. I do have gratitude that the next day, an acupuncture treatment had a miraculous impact. 4-5 hours after the treatment, the spasms, the pain, suddenly stopped as if a light switch had been flipped. I’m still stunned by the rapid change for the better. Perhaps I had “paid enough”. I hope so because I plan on working out today. But even in thinking that, I am giving that pattern notice (and power). My defense is awareness.

Joy comes. Joy goes. Life is a flow.

And with all of this, my want is to have awareness around this pattern and to be on watch for the Fear of Joy Shadow.

Because it’s ok to feel joy. Joy is a cool, awesome emotion. No requirement to be in that state all the time (that would be Heaven). But no fear of it. Instead, to welcome it. To be in joy with the joy.

Breath to Fire