Two of my regulars had much to celebrate when we met. One was acknowledging a year of sobriety. The other was allowed to plant a garden at the facility. Both spoke to how much joy they experienced, how they felt connected to their peers and sponsors, how they started to taste the taste of freedom. Both of them acknowledged how scary all of that was.
Sometimes we forget that we have an “upper limit” too. There is only so much happiness we can experience before it gets deeply uncomfortable, either because we don’t think we deserve it, or because we don’t trust it will last, or simply because great joy is a state of high arousal that our system might not have the stamina for.
For some, dissociation and self-medication are a response to happiness.
Working on the sensory window of tolerance has become a bit of a mission for me: we often think about helping ourselves and other recover from suffering, and that’s certainly part of it, but who’s there to help us with happiness? When it’s too much? Or afterwards, when we crash because the feeling of elation is not there anymore?
Recovering from joy.
Why I do what I do.