The Jam Files #15 — “What is this ‘happiness’ that you speak of?”

Happiness, to me, was never an achievement. It’s a state I once thought unattainable, & I still debate myself about that. Happiness is fleeting, but I feel every other emotion is as well. I don’t reject feeling happy. I love feeling happy. I just can’t silence the little voice that whispers, “Don’t get used to it.”

I made a big mistake as a teenager. I started to write poems about my feelings. This was fine. It’s not an abuse of the art form. It’s what most poets do. It felt more real than the little poems I wrote about nature & the scary stories I’d jot down in spiral notebooks to try to scare my sister & cousins with as a child. I was learning about myself. I was venting. I had an outlet, & it was helpful.

Later on I grew ambitious & wanted to be “famous”. Or paid at least. Adulthood was tough. It was expensive. I was miserable at day jobs but I did what everyone else did & worked them to survive. I submitted writing to online literary magazines. On my first attempt, I had a short story accepted. I was told this was unheard of but I really didn’t think it was a big deal. “It’s not like they’re paying me,” I’d say. I had big dreams though. I read bad writing advice & took it. I got paying journalism gigs. I hated those too. But I knew that I was a writer. I knew I always would be.

I quickly realized that it didn’t matter how much money you made writing, nor did it matter much anyway unless you were on some best sellers’ list. & even then you often couldn’t make a living. Not much has changed. Not that it’s impossible. There are plenty of “full time writers” out there doing well. I started to not care so much & just continued to be accepted in online (& in print!) magazines “writing for exposure.”

I had my ups & downs in life, but I was a generally positive person. I still am. I’ve just recently gotten to a very happy state (in location & in mindset) & it’s wonderful. But I’ve run into a problem that I’ve run into before. I can’t write well when I’m happy.

I no longer care about getting paid for writing, but it’s something I believe I really should try for again because adulthood has only gotten more expensive since my struggling 20s. I wasn’t symptomatic back then with my chronic illnesses & epilepsy was something I didn’t even know I had. My “fainting spells” all throughout childhood were most likely seizures according to a doctor who managed to pinpoint the focal area of my seizures & said it appears I was born with this. So adulthood got that much tougher learning to live with new limitations.

I don’t believe happiness & money are intertwined. I don’t believe happiness can be bought, but I’m also not walking around thinking that being able to pay bills, eat, & do fun things from time to time doesn’t make life easier. I also have no issue with those who believe they should be paid for writing or any art. It’s work. It’s time. It’s not “selling out”. It makes sense.

“I can’t write. I’m too happy.” I’m not too impressed with my writing output lately. I went back to writing about trees & don’t really see too much of my soul in it. Writing for me has always been digging beneath cold dirt only to find a block of ice preventing me from going deeper. I etch my lines on that surface with a bent paper clip. I’m in there. You can see me through the ice, but there’s so much more in that dark water. I’m a coward. I really am. I write safely & I know this. My favorite teacher of all time called me out on it & I agreed. I’ve done nothing to change this, but lately I feel like I want to. More importantly, I need to.

It’s hard. It’s hard to tell the truth in plain terms instead of hiding it in poetic lines & even lying about what the poem is about if someone asks. (It’s better than saying ‘it’s none of your business’, right? More polite?) I have to figure out what I’m so afraid of too. I have some theories. I’m afraid to delve into them because I’m happy. Why mess that up? Why get into the darkness now? Because that’s where the good writing is. That’s where the healing is. You’re in a good, safe, & healthier spot to do this in now.

I look around every day whether I’m sitting in my apartment or out walking the trail & still can’t believe I’m here. Not just in my physical location, but in my mental state. I now inhabit a body that feels less pain & sometimes I don’t know what to do with that. I peer into what’s happening in the world around me & think “how can anyone be happy right now?”, but I can feel awful & helpless about things outside of me but still feel glad & thankful that I’m in a good place. I don’t have to feel guilty about this.

I don’t have to feel guilty. Period.

I don’t have to feel bad that I can’t “handle happiness well”. That I’m sitting here NOT WRITING most days & feeling awful because I feel like I either “should” or “want” to & still don’t pick up my pen. I don’t feel “I’m not a writer anymore” or anything. My attempts are there. I’ve even shared some. But again, I’m not impressed with them. I’ll read something from a couple years ago & think “yeah, there we go…I want THIS back.” Then I try to put myself back where I was when I wrote it & shudder. I’m still processing the last decade of my life. I was so miserable it’s difficult to look back on. But I was writing! So much! It was my outlet. But I don’t need an outlet right now. I need to try to make some bucks.

So, this is where I’m at. I’m getting used to being in a happy place & I’m struggling to write well. Not that the output generally has to be “good”, but the actual GETTING TO THE WRITING needs to be better. I also need to be okay with the majority of my writing that I’ll be submitting for these paid publications getting rejected more. It’s not like I haven’t been rejected. I care just as much about the rejections as the acceptances, which is not much. Not that I’m not thankful to the editors who have printed my work. I am. I always will be. But I have to shift my submission focus now. I have to shift my focus entirely. I have to write from the dark place while I’m basking in this new light.

I don’t know how to do this, but I’m more than willing to try & figure it out. I actually WANT to work at writing & become frustrated when I can’t seem to “get into it”. The answer is always to read more books & to watch good cinema. Winter will be here before I know it & I won’t get to play outside as much. (I will still be playing outside in the snow though for as long as my body can stay warm enough! You can count on that.) So my time to lose myself in books & movies will be here. My time will be best used if I can write something good this winter. Even if it’s just one poem. (That’s another thing I’ve learned over the years. I believe quality is way better than quantity.) I also believe it’s time for me to broaden my work & stop being afraid to get paid.

It’s football season & I’m tackling my fears. I’m going to do this slowly. I’m going to ease into this new space because jumping in always makes me realize it’s way too cold so I scramble out & keep a toe in just so I can feel some kind of connection. It’s in me, this whole “being a writer” thing. I’ve got to utilize that because it’s such a huge part of me.

I’m still working on that Donation Button for the blog. My husband has been so busy & hasn’t had time to help with this site, but soon it will happen. Yeah, I want those fancy binoculars for my birding adventures, but I also need to pay bills. Thursday (the band) dropped tour dates & we threw budgeting to the wind to get tickets in Detroit for January since (as my husband pointed out to me) “You have two things on your bucket list. One was moving back to Michigan & the other was to see Thursday live. We’re going. Don’t worry about the money.” So I’m going. & lack of fancy binoculars aside, we’re ok & will be for the foreseeable future, unexpected disasters notwithstanding. Life can change in a blink. I can’t sit & worry about it or I’m never going to get to work. Maybe I might get into other writing again & I’m just breaking from poetry? I don’t know.

I’m glad you’ve all stuck around on this journey with me. My posts won’t be as frequent as in the past but I will be writing about my life more than I’ll be sharing poems because I will be focused on submission writing. Feel free to connect through “the socials” & keep in mind that I’m one of those rare people who enjoy long emails. I even have a small group of penpals who I hand write to. I hope you all are finding your own states of happiness even if they’re just little candles flickering through dark times.

Peace, friends.