I used to think that happiness was fought for and won. We all know that exhaustion that comes after a long day, long week, long month, long year, when we are ground down by the mere lack of those bright moments that seem to propel everyone else forwards. Everyday of my depression felt like a weighty battle. In those moments of exhaustion, I felt motivated by a deep survival instinct, a vicious desire to live and to push back against the force pulling me down, and in that violent swing, I would lift up my covers and climb out of bed at 1pm on a Saturday. 

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That mentality of fighting for happiness stuck with me in every action throughout my depression. Thinking of life as such a mighty battle, me against the universe, me against the darkness, made me feel invigorated to work everyday to live the best life that I could. But years later, when I found myself with so much to be thankful for, I reconsidered that view.

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Is the nature of life an endless fight? Am I really constantly fighting against the threat of a dark force, or watching my step every second so as not to slip? That’s how I felt. Even while in a much better place, I felt this aggression and anger towards the universe for treating me so unfairly, for attacking me, for battling ME, for of course, I never wanted to fight. And with that mistrust of the world I felt always on the defensive, working endlessly to arrange the pieces of my life, my grades, career, friendships, and parties, in such a way that nothing, not even that cruel universe, could get in the way of my happiness. 

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And did that work? No. Of course not. Life is not so easily controlled. 

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The invigoration brought on by this survival instinct gave me the will to keep going during an incredibly dark time, and for that I can never view even the harshest desire for happiness as anything but positive. I am forever thankful for my fight. For a long time, I intended to name this blog “The Mighty Battle”, and to write about the many punches thrown and taken throughout my depression and throughout my life, and to encourage others to approach life in a similar forceful way. Now, I realize that a battle is not an accurate description of my depression, and to view life so defensively has its cons. 

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This war-minded mentality has also given me anxiety and aggression, with a high value on unyielding and unrelenting strength that can easily be misplaced, all to defend against that indescribable cosmic opponent. See? Life can’t be a fight, because who would it be against? And certainly, my life’s journey through the mortal coil has not concluded that life is a battle against oneself. 

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I am sure now, that I do not want to emphasize the battle. Life is not violent or defensive, it is creationist. Instead, I want to emphasize the beautiful invigoration for life that kept me going through the most difficult times. Yes, for a time my invigoration stemmed from anger, and for that I am not sorry. I am so thankful that I found that will at all. But now, as I look backwards and forwards, I see life as a building creation - the slow, invigorated construction of the best life that we can make. Through mistakes and storms and mud, we assemble our lives. There is no battle to be won or lost and no point at which our lives cannot continue grow. Instead of these extreme moments, our lives are constructed out of every moment we live, and thus experience and course of our lives is determined by our approach to every day. We construct our lives out of a million mundane moments, like building little stone towers. That is the nature of life, as I see it.