Pessimism and Courage

I'm reading a book given to me by a dear dear friend, Stumbling on Happiness.  That's the name of the book, not the friend.  It's brilliant and brilliantly written, I suggest it to everyone.  But I wanted to start with a passage that was particularly concerning - and exciting - to me last week.  It seems that the author at one point makes the argument that people tend to get actual happiness today from delayed gratification.  He points to a scientific study where people were told they won a free steak dinner, and then asked whether they would like the steak dinner right away, or whether they would prefer to wait for a bit.  Generally, people wanted to wait.  And he argues that this is because people literally get pleasure from thinking about the future.  And generally, people imagine the future to be filled with wonder and happiness.  Of course, not for all of us, but for most he says. 

And then it occurs to me - holy shit - it's NEVER that way for me.  And that's a frightening thought!  I can't remember the time I REALLY looked forward to something.  Sure, I look forward to eating when I'm hungry, or using the bathroom on road trips, but I couldn't remember a time that I was really excited about something in at LEAST the last year!  

No, instead, when something exciting comes up, I feel a rush of excitedness and eager anticipation, but by the time it actually comes around, somehow I've gone from "I can't wait" to "God I don't want to do this."  Even things that I should REALLY look forward to - like a first date or a roadtrip to NYC with some friends for New Year's Eve (we'll get there) - I actually start to dread as I get closer.  Instead of concentrating on the new experiences that await, or the fun I'm going to have hanging with my boys from Oklahoma in a wild new environment, I'm trying to figure out how and when would be most appropriate for me to come home.  

Yeah, and that's it.  My heart can't wait, and so I commit, and then my head takes over, basically says it's going to be miserable, and I wish that I can get out of it, and frequently come up with strategies to do so. 

But I don't.  Isn't THAT amazing?  I DON'T! In spite of my head telling me how miserable I am going to be trapped in South America with no money, no friends, and lackluster Spanish speaking skills, I GO!  And I cancel my return flight.  And I keep heading south on busses, further and further away from safety.  I go on the date, and I force myself into the Metro to go meet friends for the roadtrip north.  I fly out to San Francisco to see some of the most important people in my life.  

When I moved to Costa 15 months ago, a lot of people told me I had courage.  They were wrong.  I didn't overcome anything to move to Costa.  My mind had finally shut the hell up for a bit, and let me go.  I didn't fly down in the face of certain death, I flew down in the face of certain success!  How sweet that was!  For perhaps the first time in my life, I was doing things that I couldn't WAIT to do!  

But then something happened.  I went back.  Perhaps the misery of the first couple months when I became unexpectedly alone taught my mind a lesson.  Perhaps not.  But something happened.  The dark side returned.  And excitement - anticipation - for life vanished.  Somewhere.  Somehow.  

But I LOVE life!  I mean, I HATE the future, but the actual minutes of my life - I LOVE.  Ask me and I'll tell you!  I love today.  I love this minute.  I smile at freaking everything.  Even in pain, I love life.  Even when things have gone horribly wrong, like Saturday around mid-day, I laugh!  Even while vomiting in a public toilet at a restaurant across the street, I smile!  (Too much?) Yeah, as it turns out, I LOVE the present.  

But somehow I started dreading the future again.  I have to force myself to go to bed because the morning seems so treacherous.  Even on days when I have nothing but fun planned, I have trouble getting out of bed because of all the dire thoughts.  But I do.  Every day I walk through that door.  Every day I overcome.  For me, moving to Costa wasn't courageous, but I recognize now that, in spite of my dire outlook, I am ridiculously courageous.  No, BECAUSE of my dire outlook, I am FORCED to be ridiculously courageous.  EVERY DAY I walk through that door, in spite of the fact I have convinced myself there is a fire on the other side.  EVERY day.  And it's EXHAUSTING.  

But there's light.  I see now.  I can see what I'm doing to myself.  I can see that I'm imagining fire where there's nothing but water.  And, while it's only been a few days, perhaps there's even some improvement.  Perhaps this knowledge that I have LOVED life every time I thought I was sure to be miserable, I recognize that my future as I have seen it is FAR from reality.  And maybe again it won't take courage to walk out that front door.  Maybe I'll be giddy again for a first date.  Maybe I won't have to drag myself to Jersey kicking and screaming all the way.  

I just experienced the most fun I have ever had in a four day period.  Not the highest QUALITY four days, I guess, but in terms of purely outrageous, alcohol induced hedonistic FUN, this weekend won.  Hands down.  I'll probably give more details in the next post - when I can sort through and decide which pictures won't get me arrested.  The guys (and girl) we tore up the towns with, the girls (and, sure, guys) at the bars we set on fire (bars on fire, not girls), the drinks, the laughter, the PAIN in the mornings, the LAUGHTER, the confidence, the attraction, the dancing and singing and screaming and hugging and kissing and high fives and freaking Brad breakdancing!  I mean, SHIT!

On this weekend, I think I started to turn a page.  Maybe not even this weekend, but something feels different TODAY.  Something seems to be missing.  Some voice of dread seems like it's not there.  Maybe it was just the alcohol killing what little ability I have left to reason, or maybe this is real.  Maybe, just maybe, I can start to enjoy the future again.  Maybe I can love the unexpected tomorrow.  Maybe.  

I'm already looking forward to seeing if I can, which is a damn fine start.