Kick

Since my return from Utah, I have returned to hiking segments of the Ice Age Trail. I am getting in roughly twenty miles each week and it feels good to be back in a routine hiking. My mental health is always better when I can clear my mind and emotions and take in the sunshine, trees, grass, and birds.

Last week I had a conversation with Morgan. After reading a draft of my last post Veneer, he chastised me for being so serious all the time. He indicated that he doesn’t want me to constantly dwell in a sad space. I know his heart is in the right place and he just wants me to find a little happiness.

His comment stuck with me though as I hiked six miles on the IAT Loew Lake Segment. As I made my way through fields of grass and thick forests of trees, I attempted to identify the last time I laughed uncontrollably or even a lot. Unfortunately, I could not recall a single episode in the past year.

I imagine it is not easy spending time with me. I have been very good at sharing plans and tales for my various adventures as well as telling of my plans around the release of My Joy Journey with Amy as a book. What I haven’t been very good at is demonstrating that singular quality Amy always possessed. The ability to laugh at oneself and find joy in ordinary everyday events.

I struggle with the concept of whether I was ever that person or whether I simply relied on Amy. In some sense, I believe I have that ability. Afterall, I think you have to be open to mirth to enjoy its benefits. Whether you are the target of someone else’s goofiness or dish it out yourself to friends and loved ones, to fully enjoy silliness you first must be able to laugh at yourself.

Today as I walk through forests and fields of grass lost in green, I wonder what is holding me back from laughing more. I am perplexed as to the reason. After 30 months, I still feel wounded. Sadness can overtake me in an instant anytime I think of Amy and how much I love and miss her. I know for a fact, she would not want that for me, but I am lost as to what restrains me from laughter and cheerfulness.

Am I being too hard on myself? Do I filter out my happier moments because I am so focused on my loss? If so, how can I change that? Is it something I can control?

As I walk this path, I realize I am lost. There is no roadmap on how to regain laughter and happiness after loss. As I ponder these questions, I recall one of Amy’s nuggets of wisdom. When the kids were growing up and struggling with the typical problems of adolescence, she would often remind them “We are all responsible for our own happiness.”

I cannot lay the blame for my lack of laughter and mirth on my loss. I deserve Morgan’s kick in the derriere. I am responsible for my own happiness. Time to do better and laugh, tease, joke, and smile more. I know it will not be easy, but making the effort is half the battle. Thanks, buddy.