The most terrifying emotion...
- Ginger Bliss
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 2 hours ago
During a Facetime call with a friend, this photo was taken without my knowledge. I later received it in a text message from my friend and was a little bit embarrassed. Why, you may ask? My eyes weren't closed. I wasn't being silly. I didn't have anything stuck between my teeth.
I was initially embarrassed because I looked...joyful. Truly full of joy. And it showed...in my eyes, in my smile. I am exuding joy in this photo, and it made me uncomfortable.
I remember a few years ago, I happened to see the video in the link below where joy is referenced as the most terrifying emotion and it confused me. How could that be possible? Joy? But then again, I thought, how would I know as I was much more accustomed to gloom than joy.
My guess is that many of you will relate to my discomfort with joy, but for those who don't or who haven't yet recognized it in themselves, the video will explain. While the whole video is worth watching, the most important part related to this blog is at the 2:16 mark, The Most Terrifying Emotion: Joy.
"Joy is vulnerable--that's why we're afraid to let ourselves feel it. Don't squander joyful moments by waiting for the other shoe to drop. Lean in and practice gratitude." Brené Brown
In the following excerpt from my memoir, Brave Enough To Be Bliss, I describe my second solo trip to Arizona.
As I recall, my flight arrived mid-morning and I was on my way to Sedona by noon. I thought about many things on the drive there. I remembered when John sent me a flirty email on my first solo trip saying he was going to miss me, and how I responded to him asking if it was a mistake and intended for someone else. I thought about why I had done that, why I had been scared by the very thing I had longed for. Why was my first response to something good, always something to push him away? In that moment, it seemed like the appropriate thing to say, but then after I said it, I would realize it was exactly the wrong thing to say. But by then, I couldn’t undo it. I didn’t understand it, but at least by this point I could have compassion for it and know it was just something I still had to figure out: that automatic negative response to something good.
This wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last time I would self-sabotage with John. Why couldn't I believe he would miss me? After all the work I had done on myself, why was my first response to joy to reject it? The answer to that and so many other relationship behaviors I have struggled with are explained in detail in the book, but the short answer is that I hadn't yet healed enough from all my wounds to believe that I was worthy of love. I was still trapped in the belief that there was something inherently wrong with me.
In the book's last chapter, I include the following link to a scene from the television show This Is Us and another excerpt follows to explain the above self-sabotaging behavior.
And that is why I had always tried to find closure, create an ending because I wanted to avoid the pain of losing pretty wonderful. I believed I didn’t deserve pretty wonderful, so I feared the ending and at least when I proactively created the ending, it gave me an instant of control. I had survived fear only through the feeling of control. And it turns out that’s a hard habit to break. Really hard.
"It doesn't matter when we start. It doesn't matter where we start. All that matters is that we start." Simon Sinek
I'm writing about foreboding joy because it's something I still struggle with, but because I'm now GB Real in my relationships instead of being the masked version of myself, when the behavior surfaces, I generally recognize it quickly, so I can explain and apologize. And in a healthy relationship, the apology is understood, accepted, and any damage can be repaired. It is still my responsibility to continue minimizing this behavior, but because I now better understand myself and openly share with others, if I miss that I'm foreboding joy, they can ask me questions to bring it to my attention.
And I can now publicly share the photo in this blog not fearful that the joy captured will end but rather appreciative of every single moment I feel it.
"What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven't even happened yet.” Anne Frank