Remembering What Happiness Feels Like Again
I seem to be in that phase of healing where literally everything that can go wrong, does. But where I’d normally spiral and know that there was no way to fix everything, I feel rather….ok. It’s got me wondering if I’m numb or if I’ve actually crossed some invisible line — where all the chaos is really just life clearing out space for what’s next. (I said something similar to my son when he asked me why so many bad things happen to us and he told me that sometimes I was too much of a hippie for him to deal with.)
Last night, two tiny miracles happened.
First: I slept. Like really slept. Only woke up twice instead of my usual seven or eight times, and drifted back into real rest. The kind where you wake up and realize how bone-deep tired you’ve been for years.
And second: I had the most beautiful dream.
The Dream That Brought Me Back to Life
In the dream, there was a note tucked into my front door — from my first true love when I was seventeen. Somehow I’d missed him knocking. I didn’t even need to read the note; I just looked at the familiar writing and slipped it into my pocket.
Then the door knocked again. I was at the back of an impossibly long, narrow house. I looked toward the door, expecting to see my old boyfriend but instead it was my very best friend from high school.
I sprinted down thelong, narrow hallway, thinking, “I’m a hugger now! I’m okay with hugs!” and launched myself at her. We crashed to the floor laughing, and then , without hesitation, started dragging out mattresses for a sleepover.
When I woke up, something rare had followed me back: happiness.
Not the idea of it. Not gratitude lists or mantras or tiny moments of joy. Real, full-body, teenage-level happiness — the kind that fills your chest and makes you want to blast music and dance barefoot in your kitchen.
I honestly didn’t recognize it at first. I’d quite literally forgotten that such a feeling existed. But there it was — a living memory.
Remembering What’s Possible
I put on the songs that used to soundtrack that version of me, shared stories with my kids, and tried to hold on to the feeling. I was awestruck by how I didn’t need to make any effort, the feeling was just a part of me. And it was fascinating. I kept thinking, “Is this how most people walk around every day? If so, life must be completely different.”
But slowly, life crept back in — the chores, the noise, the mental static. The feeling started to fade.
Each time a flicker of happiness tried to return, my body did what it’s trained to do: scan for danger.
Where’s the panic? The dread? The familiar ache I can trust?
But then I’d remember: Oh wait. Happiness. That felt amazing. Stay there.
I’d breathe, try to hold it — even for a moment.
Eventually, it slipped away. It’s frustrating that I can’t recall it now, no matter how hard I try. But that’s okay. Because I know it exists.
And if it exists, then so do I.
The Spark Beneath the Rubble
Maybe this is what healing really looks like — not the grand transformation or the endless positivity, but the quiet rediscovery of something that once felt lost forever. Something that you didn’t even remember.
It’s messy, nonlinear, and full of days that make you question if you’re moving forward at all. But sometimes, in the middle of “everything going wrong,” your soul sneaks you a reminder:
You are still in there.
And she remembers how to feel joy.
If you’ve ever wondered whether you’ll feel like yourself again — this post is your reminder that you will.
The Spark Starter Kit is a free, cozy space full of micro-prompts, spark-noticing ideas, and tiny doses of hope.
No pressure. Just possibility.
