The Morbid Thought That Helps Me Be Happier Now
By: Jennifer Haubrich
Tags: Happiness, Appreciation, Life, Gratitude, Love

The Morbid Thought That Helps Me Be Happier Now

Photo by Dominique Lelièvre on Unsplash

If you want to drive yourself crazy and miserable, dwell on all that you couldn’t do, but wish you could have, this year. The opportunities, the experiences, the time with friends and family.

This was the one year my girls are at the same middle school. For the past three years, I’d imagined seeing them both perform in the spring musical together. I was certain it would be a highlight of their childhood. Something I would always remember and cherish.

It’s not going to happen. They haven’t gone to school in-person since March.

I try not to dwell on it. Most of the time, I’m able to resist focusing on what I would have, could have, or should have gotten to experience or do this year.

I’ve had practice, like anyone else who has lost a loved one has. The worst thing you can do after losing someone you love is imagine “What if?” What if he didn’t die so young? What if he was still here? For my own self-protection and possibly my sanity, I refuse to go there. I know it will lead only to a bad place.

But lately, I’ve realized that another form of what some would undoubtedly consider morbid thinking has actually helped me to better savor certain aspects of my life, even during this year.

We will lose everything

Even things and people we don’t think we could live without. Even things we think should always be there. Things we take for granted.

Family. Friends. Health. Wealth. Home. Physical abilities. Mental faculties.

Our dog who is always at our side (or on our feet).

And we don’t know when.

They are all only on loan. They are not ours to keep. Only to care for, for a while.

This makes me realize that my most important job is to do that, even when times are tough. Maybe even more so then. Savor them. Love them. Appreciate them. Even if they are surrounded by big challenges, worries, and problems.

Look to the future, but don’t live in it

Right now, we can imagine better days ahead. What life might be like when this time ends. People say it’s going to get worse before it gets better.

But it will get better.

And yet, it won’t for everyone, even if they manage to avoid the coronavirus. Some will die of heart attacks before this is over, in car accidents soon after, or other unrelated tragedies. No future post-Covid world we can imagine is a surety.

Not one thing, except right now, is guaranteed. So, we can’t afford to live only for some imagined future.

The only certainty is that this time, and all that it contains, will not last.

Everything is a sunset

In trying times people may tell us “This, too, shall pass.”

We understand it to mean that the hard times won’t last forever. This is true.

But that’s only half the story. Because it’s also true for all the good things, the people and pets, the places and times we love too.

We shouldn’t wait until this is over to love and appreciate what is good in our lives, no matter how small those things we love are. Clean sheets and a good night’s sleep. A cup of tea. Texting with a friend who is there for us (even when they aren’t).

Our job is to recognize and appreciate what’s good before it’s gone. Because it is all we can really do.

We can ignore a beautiful sunset on a terrible day, or we can watch it through tears.

I think the second option is better.

Everything comes to an end

We can’t control or predict these ends, even when we want to.

For six years, I have taken my daughters to piano lessons at their teacher’s house. Every week I sat on her red couch while my daughters had their lessons. This year, due to the pandemic, those lessons moved to Facetime. Then last month we were surprised when she told us she was moving out of state. Yesterday we drove to her house one last time to give her a gift and say goodbye in-person, at a distance.

I always enjoyed those hours at her house, no matter what else was happening in our lives. I vaguely remember the last time I sat on that red couch. News of the pandemic was growing, and I did wonder how long it would be until we returned after spring break. But I’m certain I didn’t consider for a moment I might never do it again.

Now she is gone, and that chapter of my daughters’ childhood is over.

Not a big loss in the grand scheme of this year, by any means. Just one we didn’t expect. Another reminder that everything is temporary.

Take nothing for granted

Right now, our little family of four is together, day in and day out. Many hours of the day I’m in my office, my husband is in the basement, and my daughters are in their bedrooms. We eat dinner together every night at the kitchen table, most days having never left the house.

There is a seemingly endless supply of dirty dishes in the kitchen and often scattered throughout the house. The piles of dishes in bedrooms drive me more than a little crazy.

But I know they won’t last either.

Will this arrangement end abruptly or dissipate over some length of time? We don’t know yet, but it will not go on like this forever.

Even on the days that it feels like it will.

Right now, we are together, and each day I must remind myself how lucky we are to have this time together, even with all its limitations, stress, and concerns. While this year has been difficult, sometimes scary, sad, isolating, frustrating, I won’t let that stop me from loving who and what’s also been good in it.

All the best parts of our lives are likely to be scattered amidst some of the worst. Our challenge is to recognize them anyway — before they are gone.

I don’t want to miss a sunset, because I know it won’t last.