The risk of happiness

Before I met him I couldn’t think of starting over. He changed all that. He made me want to begin again. Rediscover everything fresh and bright and new.

But something still haunts me. One of my biggest fears is the slow destruction of things. It begins innocently. Something so sweet and good just turns ever so slightly. You might not even notice it. Every drastic change starts somewhere. Even though wake up one day, asking yourself how did we get here?, it started somewhere, in some small way. You just didn’t notice it. Those small destructive moments did not reveal the projected fate of their continual existence.

How can you ever say where something began? Influence is elusive that way. Change happens and if you aren’t paying attention, you could become a stranger to yourself. Or the person you love can become a stranger to you.

The only price of happiness is the risk of losing it.

I can’t even remember where I read that quote, but it has always stayed with me. Happiness comes with a price, too: the risk that you won’t always be that happy. The risk that the thing or situation or person that is bringing such warmth into your life won’t always be there. They won’t always look at you the same way. The feelings between you won’t always be the same. And not to say that I would want to be happy all the time. The most precious of lessons are learned in the dark times. What I am saying though is that lurking in the background of all my happy moments is the realization: This won’t last. I know that’s cynical and perhaps it isn’t always true, but things get distorted over time. Even the best relationships get clogged with bitterness and hurt feelings, morphing the relationship into an unrecognizable version of its former self.

These thoughts depress me even when my life is going great. Though I am thankful, I am tentative. Dare I get too attached to the way things are right now?

But of course, I always do. There’s no other way to live than to jump right in and passionately give everything you’ve got. I just hope each time that things are different. In each relationship, I think, can we beat the odds? Or will things inevitably get messed up in some unforeseeable and probably unintentional way? It breaks my heart.

The past still pains me. Images flash through my mind of us, the way I like to remember us. The laughter, the safety we found in each other, the tenderness of kind words and comforting touches. And to think of the way things ended up seems unbelievable. How did things possibly end up this way? How did we get here? Were there signs all along of where we were headed?

I asked him once if he thought he could really live without me. He replied that he had been living without me for a long time. That I hadn’t been myself the past few months anyway. Is it really that easy to become a stranger?

I guess the reason this is all on my mind is because I have that renewed sense of hope again. Hope that things will be different this time. That even if there are ups and downs and even if things break down for awhile, that somehow they will be built back up again. Maybe it will be different, but maybe it will be stronger too. Is that how you really know if something is “built to last”? It still succumbs to the gradual decline of things, but eventually bounces back, reconstructs itself in a new way? Renews itself?

I guess I’ll have to wait and see. For now, I am basking in the glow of the happiness that surrounds me. I know that it’s a risk to fall in love with that warmth again, but it’s here and it’s a blessing and I can’t think of handling it any other way. You have to let that sun sink in while it’s around. Maybe that’s what sustains you through the winters.