Positivity vs. Happiness vs. Joy
Did you know they are all profoundly different?
I mentioned in Sunday’s Gabbing Away I had an insanely cathartic therapy session in January. I’m obsessed with my therapist - I’ve been seeing her on-and-off since graduating college and I like to think we’re friends, though she would probably argue otherwise since I should respect doctor-patient boundaries and all. Anyways, my therapist breaks down my thoughts, reactions and feelings into parts of myself. We relate things I do and say back to those parts to understand my why. Overtime, we’ve added many parts, but some include needy part, lying part, fixer part, and runaway part. I’m so fun 🙃.
My friends and family know my positivity part very well. Sometimes it can be beautiful and helpful, but other times I use it to…
Color experiences with an optimistic lens
Protect myself from feeling the full spectrum of an experience to avoid anything painful
Avoid addressing fears associated
At the end of my session in early January, my therapist sent me my list of parts with brief explanations of how I employ them. I love therapy homework and wanted to journal more relating my thoughts and feelings back to these parts to categorize them in a nice and organized manner. I wanted to then review that in the next session with my therapist to better understand some of my patters.
“I wanted to” being the opportune phrase here.
I got lazy in January and did nothing more than print out my list of parts and tuck them into my purse. I carried them with me to and from work and looked at them, but didn’t really absorb them.
Then, at the end of the next session, which started with talking about my breasts, a lightbulb went off. Five minutes over the hour (thank goodness my therapist isn’t a stickler with timing), I said, “wait…I think I realize something. Being positive isn’t the same as being happy.” My therapist enthusiastically nodded. It was like puzzle pieces quickly fell into place to form a full picture. But, time was up and we agreed to pick up where we left off next time.
Let me break down my full picture moment for you.
My positivity part can be really good sometimes. My positivity gives me a mindset that evokes grit, resilience, a mind over matter attitude, and the idea that if you fake laugh, it turns into a real laugh (learned this every time my friend Pell would say “now let’s all look at each other and laugh!” for a photo. We’d end up genuinely cackling each time). Being positive during times of unhappiness or uncertainty can, at least for me, give me a foundation for the future happiness to come. It’s what often keeps me going.
Also, as I’ve kind of shared before, I hate wallowing and negativity. My moving on part doesn’t like to sit in a “womp-womp” mode. When I steer away from my positivity part, I often call myself pathetic or stupid or downplay my sad, self-pitying emotions because I do find wallowing pathetic. I’m sorry! I said it! I’m working on being more empathetic, but negativity literally makes me cringe.
I’m working to embrace the fact that this imbalance is not totally right - you do need to work through some tough emotions to realize the good things in life. You need to feel the full spectrum of your emotions because how can we know what happiness feels like if we don’t feel sadness?
I can act positive until I’m blue in the face and while, on the surface, at work or in the start of a friend catch up (“I’m good!”), it helps me come across as happy, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m happy. Tangent coming…
So what started with my boobs during therapy, turned into a rant about Hinge, turned into a profound understanding of “self”. Let’s start with my boobs, just because I find it interesting. Doesn’t really have anything to do with today’s post though, so feel free to skip onto the Hinge section if you wish.