The Happy Jar

Some time ago, on some birthday, maybe in high school, Val gifted me a "Happy Jar." The Happy Jar is filled with scraps of paper of memories of ours. Many movie quotes, phrases that were said during times we hung out that, instantly upon reading them, make me laugh and take me back to that very moment. It was one of the best gifts I've ever received. I pick up the Happy Jar from time to time and read through them. It doesn't really matter my mood when I pick it up: I know I'll go through it and come out of it feeling nostalgic. Sad with sprinklings of gratitude for the best friendship. 

I think of Val putting this gift together. Laughing to herself as she's writing down these little memories on the scraps of paper (our handwriting is so similar!). I love the idea of putting together a Happy Jar for two people. Sometimes I wish I could do it for the world. A Happy Jar to go looking for when times are hard and even when they're not. When times are hard in life and when times are not hard in life, that's the greatest challenge, isn't it? To go in search of the stuff that fills us up even when we don't think we need it. 

I forget to reflect when things are seemingly good, when things are "great." I forget to honor the life I've been given: what has changed, what hasn't changed, what I've been through, what I haven't been through. I forget to add to my own Happy Jar. And then when things are "bad" I'm on empty, starting from square one, back to the beginning of the race, with no idea how to jumpstart my own healing process. But if I didn't just ride the wave of the seemingly good, I'd have these scraps to carry with me through the seemingly bad. 

I think about healing far too often because, as I've mentioned in another post, I am obsessed with assigning times to challenges. When I'm sick, I google how long the flu typically lasts. At work, I love deadlines. I time my workouts. I'm disappointed in myself if I don't reach 60 minutes (I'm working on it, ok?)

And so, emotional healing is something I'm fascinated by. Time does not exist here; not even an approximate one. I am an empath and a highly sensitive person. When people I care for go through a hard time, their healing process becomes a top priority inside of my mind. Because I do not have a timeline for them, I create lists in my mind: check on them, talk to them, will they need to do this? Will they need to do that? How are they? I hope they reach healing soon. But the truth is, this is their own Jar to fill. Their own Jar they will fill, in time, unknown to me. 

Naturally, we are all committed to filling the Happy Jars of the ones we love. We won't ever fill it without the help of the person it belongs to. In due time, we'll add our own scraps. I've created a separate jar because of Val's gift, it's called my Jar of Honor. In it, I've added scraps of moments of sadness, like a day I felt completely inferior to the world around me. I've also added scraps of motivation, to hold me accountable to aspirations I've had, like publishing a chapbook of poetry. I also added scraps filled with friends going through something, like depressive episodes or moments of being burned out. 

I'll open my Jar of Honor when things are seemingly great and when things are bad. It will serve as a reminder of the ingredients of my life. The ebb and flow. The stuff that makes it worthwhile, and rather beautiful. It won't sit next to my Happy Jar, but it will be just as important. I hope the world fills both of theirs, in whatever form their jars come in, in whatever name they choose to give it. 

"The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough."