I felt happy – and I could not say it out loud. Not even to myself.

It was a slow Saturday morning – I had gotten out of bed, showered, done my skin care and had taken a moment to sit down and reflect. As I wrote down how I was feeling, I noticed the resistance in my body.

I felt happy, content even  – but I could not write it down or admit it.

I could not even say it out loud. 

I was not scared of being happy –  I was afraid of what could happen if I allowed myself to admit it. I was bracing. I had a deadline looming and I knew exactly how much runway I had left as well as the reality of the disruption it could bring. And somehow, I was content.

Before I could push the feeling away and continue with my day- like I always do, I had the urge to say it out loud – even through the struggle. I chose to pause, put my pen down and ask myself why I was afraid to admit that I was happy.

I was bracing. My body knew too well what my mind was not ready to admit. Happiness and contentment did not last – at least that’s what I had known. The deadline was looming and I should be braced for disruption.

You know the feeling, life is going well and then suddenly you get that sense of something going wrong the moment you admit being happy. That feeling that makes happiness seem dangerous – like a trap. One that activates the moment you acknowledge that you are happy. 

That was what I felt that Saturday morning.

Survival is the fuzzy beast that keeps us safe but never knows when to be cute and let its guard down when danger passes.

I have come to learn that waiting for the other shoe to drop is not pessimism – it’s a habit my nervous system had built to protect me. If I braced for what I thought would come, then at least I wouldn’t be caught off guard when the shoe finally dropped.

So, my body was ready to brace by default.

However, I questioned why I was bracing instead. I questioned what I was scared to give words to. I simply asked myself why I was resisting admitting that my morning was light and in the slowness, I was content.

A simple question waiting for complex answers I did not have – but it was a start. I noticed my feelings. From the happiness to the contentment. From the resistance to the fear. From the noticing to the acceptance. 

All these feelings had meaning and some even had purpose some time past – and I am sure they may still do in the future.

But that Saturday morning, I simply observed them – not resolve or understand them. I chose to notice the feelings and where they sat in my body.

So, if you ever catch that resistance in your body before your mind catches up — don’t push past it. Put the pen down or pause, the way I did. Just ask yourself why.

If admitting you deserve to be happy feels harder than admitting anything else — the journal, When Did I Disappear?, may have space for exactly that.