Shit Storm Survivor

I'm not sure whether it was my army upbringing and constantly hearing stories of war. Or whether I was raised by an anxious grandmother. Or the fact that my 35 year old seemingly healthy spouse decided to climb the stairway to heaven over 3 years ago, the point is I've become an efficient shit storm survivor.

I anticipate it, with my unnecessary overthinking, i concort scenarios in my head that may or may not happen. Long story short, I always have a plan B and I'm ready to lock and load, whenever required.

I remember the initial couple of months after my husband passed away, I just couldn't bring myself to being happy. I had gone for an offsite and had bagged an award within 6 months of joining the organisation and I was elated. Through all that laughter and hysteria, I felt extremely guilty for being so happy. I was a new widow afterall.

That feeling persists till date. When seemingly happy or exciting things happen around me, I anticipate in my head, "but where's the shit storm?" 

My moments of sheer bliss and joy come from eating a good meal. Anything other than food, I simply do not trust. My guards are always up, I'm ready to disconnect, move on, keep walking and so on.

I'm not unhappy per se, I'm just suspicious of happiness. I'm happy averse, if there is such a term. I believe all good things end quickly, therefore it's better not to get too attached to the illusion.

Finally, I realise my story is not unique. Everyone is fighting a silent battle, we know nothing about. So the least we can do, is be kind. Let people down gently, if you must. There really is no room for violence, because everything is over in the blink of an eye.