Does My Happiness Offend You ?

Does my happiness offend you?

Well, it appears you aren’t alone in the world.

Not too long ago I posted a photo that opened a gateway to some negative remarks.  The comment made reference to my happiness being “fake”.

Now, please don’t get me wrong.  Although I am clearly a proponent of social media, I am very well aware of the dark underbelly of it as well.  

As a believer in balance, I know the good has to come with the bad, just like the light dances with the dark.

I’m also aware that our “friends” on personal pages and “followers” on community/business pages aren’t always rainbows and butterflies.  

Back in the old days someone might have rolled their eyes at you as you were waxing on about something while you sat, together, around a table sharing a blazing hot cup of coffee.  That activity has evolved into something a little spicier and far more passive aggressive thanks to technology and those good ol’ social media “comment” boxes that now take the place of human interaction.

I’ve experienced some dark quips on my Bohemian Living community page from people, tucked safely on the other side of their screens.  With that level of anonymity comes a bountiful dose of freedom.  Sadly, sometimes freedom comes with a side of terrible manners.  The few times it’s happened, the nasty remarks were about absolute strangers ripping other absolute strangers to shreds based on their appearance.  

I can remember being shocked at how passionate they were (again, about total strangers) being too much or too little of something for their liking.  The ugliness appeared to roll so easily across their keyboards and into the world wide web.

(Silver Lining Alert: I was also shocked at my ability to actually be shocked.  I’ve lived a life filled with shocking moments so, you know, yay for me not being totally numb to the world, right?)

Ok, back to business…

It wasn’t until the other day that I had experienced that speedy new world spiciness personally.  This comment wasn't directed to some stranger.  The bullseye was me.

Let’s switch pages and newsfeeds and hop on over to my own Facebook page.

I posted this photo:

The comment that soon followed, again, made reference to my happiness being fake.

Now, please allow me to make a bit of a confession before I really get rolling.  

My filter for “confirming” new friends is pretty wide.  If we have mutual friends you are pretty much in.  Of course, it’s not always that simple but for arguments sake, it’s pretty close.  

So, a comment popped up on my photo from someone that I don’t actually, personally know but that I do share a ton of mutual friends with.

So I read it twice and then, because I’m human, I felt the zing.

Why?  Why feel a zing from some comment from some person that you don’t really know?

Well, apparently I’m sensitive.  

Ha.  Just kidding.  

Well, not really.  

Allow me to be more specific.  Apparently I’m sensitive about my HAPPINESS.

I fight so fucking hard for my happy moments that for someone to label them fake really does sting.

Boom, I'm human.

The people that know me well understand that I fight a fair battle - every single day.

You see, I live with Depression and it’s three amigos Anxiety, Panic and PTSD.

I live with them every day.  Not just sometimes.  Not just in the moments that suck….but in the happy moments like when I’m holding a Tree Pose & Gyan Mudra in front of beautiful graffiti wings in NYC, too.

Can you see them all?  Anxiety is perched on my right shoulder, Panic on my left. PTSD sits on my heart and Depression is the heavy, sopping wet blanket that I drag around with me.  

They are all there.  

I bet you can see them if you stop for a minute and look close enough.

Now, I speak about this often but I’m going to bring it up again.

I choose NOT to medicate with pharmaceuticals for personal reasons (like the fact that my family history is laced with Addiction so why add one more cherry to my heaping bowl of bullshit, right?).

For the sake of clarity, I also need to explain that the smile you see on me has been earned.  I fight with bloody knuckles and the will of a fucking giant for each one that I wear.

Getting back to the zinger...

You can imagine my eyes getting bigger as I read each word of a fairly benign remark about my happiness being fake.

This is basically how my reaction rolled:

What?  

Wait. 

(I read it again at this point. Twice).  

Who IS this person? 

(This is where I went to his page to investigate as to whether we might actually know each other. Nope, we don’t.  At least I don’t.)

Shit, I hope Bobby doesn’t see this. 

(He already hates my “friend acceptance strategy” or lack thereof.)

I need my brothers. 

(I text a screen grab to each of my brothers for more investigating.)

Fuck! 

(Bobby just saw it and he's on fire. I proceed to explain it's just silliness and not worth being angry over.)

Now I'm giggling.  

(Because my besties just saw it on FB and are pouncing the way true Somerville girls do before I can explain to them the same thing I explained to Bobby, above.)  

I turn to Bobby and say: “My girls are on it."  

(Which fills him with a mix of pride, because my friends are obviously the best and jealousy because he wanted the nod to light up the comment feed as well.)

At this point I sat quietly as the zing started to fade and I began to wonder “does this guy have a point”?

Do I only share my happy moments and not balance them with the true grit of my days?

As I comb through all the swirling thoughts in my mind, I honestly don’t think that’s the case. 

I intentionally post, fairly regularly, about my "Adventures with Depression & The Three Amigos".

Every fucking month is either a birthday or anniversary of someone I have loved and have lost, which the FB world has a front row seat to.

I do believe I share as much of me as I possibly can - and I do it on purpose.  

I do it because I'm hopeful that one day, some person who is on their knees the same way I'm on mine might hear my words and see the tiniest sliver of a spark that casts just enough light that they reach out their hand and hold onto it as tightly as I hold on to my slivers of light.

At least, that's what I've been able to boil this whole experience, this lesson of sorts, down to.

That a tiny sliver of light some of us so desperately need might bounce into your world from the most unexpected and life-preserving place.  For some it's a random person's Facebook page.  For others it's an article or a YouTube video or a song.  Who knows.  Who really cares which one?  What matters is that these slivers are there.

If I'm a sliver of light for someone, someday, then "Hallelujah!".  That means all this heartache has been for something more than just sadness.

On the record:  I wrote to the guy who posted his opinion, privately.  I kindly and honestly explained a bit more about myself and pointed him in the direction of some of my sadder moments (which have been posted on this site and the Storytellers blog) to, you know, balance out the happy.  I wasn't rude, just real.

He replied respectfully and all is fine in the world.  (Disclaimer: I removed his comment from the photo before posting this piece because I don't want to inspire any negativity or feed any drama.)

Just know that I'm incredibly grateful to my army of friends who swooped to my side in solidarity and defense.  

There's no luckier girl in the world than me (and I say that as I'm cloaked in my sopping wet, heavy blanket of Depression today because, well, I can't win'em all but I sure can anchor myself in Gratitude because that's the only chance I'll have at winning any of them).

I bet you are wondering what the parting note is, right?  This one's easy.

In the end, the lesson I learned is this:

(and please know that I mean it from the bottom of my busted up, taped back together, totally lived up and in the process of being loved up heart)...

If you find that my happy moments still offend you, fuck off.

:: Always from under the same sky ::

Tara