on happiness and teenage rage

I am extremely, incredulously, jumping in the air kind of happy. 

In my Organizational Communication Statistics class, we had to answer a survey about mental health. One question asks us to rate our happiness level on a scale of one to ten. Serious question — is it normal for people to rank lower than 5? Because a lot of my coursemates did. I went with a solid seven, but believe me, I would’ve gone with a 10 if it weren’t for the spiral of silence phenomenon.

My happiness scale at present, and for a while now, has been a 10/10.

Let me be clear: there is nothing special going on in my life. I’m dreading Math midterms next week, I have an 8 AM - 5 PM schedule with no breaks on Tuesday, and I am not romantically involved with anyone. 

But it’s hard to wrap my head around these crises when I’m safely tucked in my room right now. It smells like strawberries because of my new scented candles. I’m in the middle of reading a cute romance novel. My parents are happy and healthy. I’m surrounded by friends who are supportive and genuine. Every day, I go to school at one of the best universities in the country. I have so much to do, but all the hard work that should feel like anxiety translates to unadulterated fulfillment. The sun always shines, I have a roof over my head, and food on my plate.

I’m not devoid of problems. But as someone who used to detest every waking second of life, it feels surreal to grasp the magnitude of happiness I feel every day.

I feel like a different person. I’m starting to look at life with new eyes and experience everything all over again. When I take a step back and look at how far I’ve come, I envision the thirteen-year-old version of me. She cried herself to sleep most nights, could never open up to her parents, pressured herself with school, and gaslit herself into thinking she was fine. She’d come home from class, drown herself in cookies and cream-flavored ice cream, head to her room, then turn off the lights. She’d rationalize and overthink, reveling in the quiet of the house but always feeling lonely, and then agonizing next week’s problems. Some days, she’d play BTS’ Magic Shop, and for three solid minutes — she’d be okay. But it was a pitiful cycle she knew all too well would replicate itself the next day. 

Unfortunately, I’d always been looking for an escape. I’d drug myself with things like music or school. As mom would say, “It’s just a bad day” or “Try not to think about it too much”. I love my mom with my whole heart, but it was the worst thing she could say. Neither of my parents delved deep into my problems; they’d brush it off as if it were taboo. If we never spoke about it, it didn’t have to exist. After all, they gave me everything I could ever want; they’d never understand how there could be a chip of any importance in the seemingly perfect life they built for me.

I lived a very comfortable life, so any other struggles I faced surely had to be trivial. My parents always wanted the best for me, but chalking up my years' worth of problems as “another bad day” made me feel as though I had no right to negative emotions. It took a fair amount of panic attacks and hospital trips for them to identify the gravity of my anxiety. But yes, that is essentially a chunk of my early teen years. I always looked for an escape, living with a plethora of emotions I could never quite process or define. I lived in a toxic cycle because I could never get to the root of my problems. 

Like it or not, the early teen years are messy — for everyone. It is the shining prototype of Olivia Rodrigo’s “Brutal” and “Jealousy”. It’s angst, loud music, seeking validation, sorting disorganized feelings, all while trying to live the “teenage dream” of a platitude.

These days, my after-school routine consists of blaring Taylor Swift or Disney Channel hits on my headphones, taking a warm shower, journaling, and watching something on Netflix. I’d put my phone and the rest of the world on DND. It’s my solace and peace. I finally understand what it means to look at the glass half-full instead of half-empty. I’ve stopped caring so much about what others think. And I’ve stopped taking myself and everything else so seriously. 

I’ve never felt more free.

This happiness I have right now is not the absence of sadness fear or worry. It is the strength, willpower, and personal decision to see the silver lining despite everything else. So if you ask me, I’d rank my happiness level a 10/10.

You deserve the same level of happiness too.