It happened again Saturday night. Hours before dawn, I was jarred awake by a nightmare that ended with me being shot in the chest at close range. I laid frozen, pinned to the bed as if I were truly bleeding to death, gasping my last precious breaths before everything went dark. I knew I was awake and had not, in fact, been shot; nevertheless, my fears took on that familiar, smothering quality, I began to think about the handful of people who have keys to our apartment. Would they come bursting through the door at that very moment, intent on murdering us in our bed?
Then I realized that I had a dire need to pee. DIRE. For the bajillionth time in recent memory, I scooped up the dog and shuffled around the apartment, checking everything for signs of entry, and then hustled to the bathroom. I did manage to drift off when I went back to bed, after my husband talked me through my fears, helping me dismiss them as unfounded and managing not to mock me for my paranoia. And then the dog woke me up at 7, needing to go outside -- payback for me doing the same to him hours before.
I have come to the realization that my brain is doing this -- this middle-of-the-night onslaught of adrenaline via horrific dreams and irrational fears -- for a reason. I think it is because I am afraid that I might be too happy.
Everything has been going along rather sailingly of late. In the past year, we've bought an apartment that we love, gone on some fantastic trips, enjoyed quiet weekends and time with friends and family, welcomed our nephew and several friends' babies into the world, seen some measure of success at work, and done a tremendous amount of running. We're healthy and so are our families. We spend time doing things we love, like reading and writing and watching goofy reality TV and playing games and eating good food. (I told y'all I was boring.) My relationships with people I care about have deepened. And I've discovered some fabulous new friends in the most unexpected ways.
The times in my life when I've experienced the most anxiety have been times like these, when things are clicking along nicely. I become convinced, consciously or not, that I am inviting unimaginable tragedy upon myself simply because I am content. The phone will ring and I'll assume I'm about to receive the news of a loved one's death. I'll look around the subway and think about how someone might open fire or ignite an explosive at any second. I'll feel off for a couple of days and wonder if my body is harboring some dread illness that will leave me wasting in a hospital bed, my family and friends looking piteously at my shriveled form.
This strange inability to embrace my own contentment without fearing some cosmic retribution comes from a different place than my other neuroses of inadequacy and obsessiveness, although it's not unrelated to those feelings. This is almost like a version of so-called Catholic guilt (although I'm not Catholic), wherein I convince myself that my happiness is unearned; I am unworthy of it, and therefore deserving of punishment for enjoying something that is not rightfully mine. On top of the organized religion overtones, the media plays into this, too -- how many times have we heard Barbara Walters intoning a narrative about someone who was on top of the world, loving life in every way, only to have his world shattered by a rare disease/freak accident/devastating loss? We've accepted this spin as gospel -- or at least, subconsciously, I have -- to the effect that you'd better not get too comfortable, because the proverbial rug could be pulled out from underneath you at any time.
In my day-to-day life, I'm not paralyzed by these fears; I don't mean to make it sound as though I'm a paranoid freak, darting behind parked cars or constantly glancing over my shoulder. For the most part, I just go through my routine and try to take notice of the moments of beauty that happen among the mundane progression of the workaday existence. But at night, the light is replaced by shadows, and beneath the darkness lies the fear of loss and destruction. How do I keep the fear at bay? How do I sleep without the interruption of doubt and its concomitant need for vigilance? How do I remind myself that my happiness does not put me in some debt to the universe that must be repaid with sorrow?
Awesome, Lawyerish. Such a great post. If you find out how to do these, let me know. I am exactly the same way. If I get "too happy," I start looking for the things that are going to go wrong. It's really sad that we can't enjoy happiness for itself without waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Posted by: Jurgen Nation | October 03, 2006 at 06:40 AM
I know ypu know this, but you deserve to be happy. And your "boring" sounds like my "fun."
Posted by: -R- | October 03, 2006 at 09:01 AM
I don't know what to say, honestly. Because, not surprisingly, I am the exact same way. I am, in some ways, content with discontent, because at least then, things are already bad, so how can they get worse? It's when things are humming along that there is the most risk for crushing disappointment.
It's an old proverb that the greatest risk in life we can take is to be happy, without concern for what will come, and without reservation. And how oddly true that is, isn't it?
xoxo
Posted by: jonniker | October 03, 2006 at 10:08 AM
And by the way, I have completely - COMPLETELY - accepted the media industry's spin as gospel. I apply it all over the place - to my career, my family, to my marriage. I convince myself that Adam or I is going to die an untimely death, because that's what HAPPENS to good marriages on TV and in the movies!
I know we're smarter than that, but there's something so visceral about it when it's you, isn't it? None of it is rational, but it doesn't matter.
Posted by: jonniker | October 03, 2006 at 10:11 AM
Recently I had a dream where someone came up to me and sliced off my nose. I keep having it off and on for the last few months. No idea why.
Posted by: Crissy | October 03, 2006 at 12:26 PM
You know what is so weird?
I am almost in the exact opposite position as you. I'm going through one of the most harrowing, gut-wrenching experiences and I sometimes can't get a hold of my emotions. My sleep has been awful, obviously, and I'm trying so damn hard not to self-medicate.
Yet last night? I had this amazing dream, where someone (I have no idea who, although they seemed vaguely familiar) made me feel so safe and loved. I woke up with a bounce in my step and felt hope for the first time in weeks.
It is amazing what lurks in our subconscious, isn't it?
Posted by: Kari | October 03, 2006 at 02:04 PM
Jurgen - I guess I'm sorry to see that I have kindred spirits out there. Let's work on this, shall we? We do deserve to be happy, and have to learn to let it go and enjoy...
R - Yeah. I know. My subconscious just hasn't gotten the memo. And my boring is my fun, too! I don't know why I have to deprecate what I like doing, just because it's not staying out all night and pouring beer over my head.
Jonna - We've got to stop expecting the worst from life, you know? Because we're all doing just fine, and we *have* earned the happiness. Gah.
Crissy - Whoa. How scary and strange. Slicing off your nose. I wonder what on earth that could mean?
Kari - I'm so sorry for whatever it is you're going through. It's incredible how a dream can affect your mood, though. Sometimes when I have a super bad one, I feel shaken all day long. I'm glad you found some comfort, even in your sleep.
Posted by: lawyerish | October 03, 2006 at 09:46 PM
Jurgen - I guess I'm sorry to see that I have kindred spirits out there. Let's work on this, shall we? We do deserve to be happy, and have to learn to let it go and enjoy...
R - Yeah. I know. My subconscious just hasn't gotten the memo. And my boring is my fun, too! I don't know why I have to deprecate what I like doing, just because it's not staying out all night and pouring beer over my head.
Jonna - We've got to stop expecting the worst from life, you know? Because we're all doing just fine, and we *have* earned the happiness. Gah.
Crissy - Whoa. How scary and strange. Slicing off your nose. I wonder what on earth that could mean?
Kari - I'm so sorry for whatever it is you're going through. It's incredible how a dream can affect your mood, though. Sometimes when I have a super bad one, I feel shaken all day long. I'm glad you found some comfort, even in your sleep.
Posted by: lawyerish | October 03, 2006 at 09:48 PM