I have realized something about myself.

I do not receive good things the way most people do.

When something good happens to me, an opportunity, recognition, an unexpected kindness, my first reaction is not excitement. It is caution. My body tightens. My thoughts slow down. And somewhere in my head, a familiar voice shows up and says this feels too good, something bad must be next.

So instead of celebrating, I brace myself.

Life has taught me that good things can disappear. That peaceful moments can be followed by chaos. After enough of that, joy stops feeling safe. It starts to feel like something you should not trust too much.

So when beautiful things come my way, I do not know how to sit in them comfortably.

When something exciting happens, like winning something or being recognized, I show up. I smile. I say thank you. I try to be present. But after the moment passes, I feel overwhelmed. My body feels overstimulated. I need time to recover. I get quieter. It takes me a while before I feel like being sociable again.

Happiness takes a lot out of me.

I struggle to accept gifts simply as they are because my mind immediately prepares for losing them. I tell myself not to get too attached. Not to hope too much. Not to enjoy it fully. Not because I am ungrateful, but because I am afraid.

Trauma does that to you.

It teaches your body to stay alert even in moments that are meant to be joyful. My nervous system remembers what it felt like to trust something good and then have it taken away. So even now, when good things happen, my body does not rest.

There is guilt too. Guilt for being blessed when I have known so much struggle. Guilt for enjoying something when experience has taught me it might not last. And underneath that, there is grief for the version of me who once believed good things could just be good.

I long for the days when I can simply be in the moment. When joy does not feel undeserved. When I can marvel at how wonderful things are without questioning why they are happening to me.

I long to rest.

To rest in happiness.

To rest in gratitude.

To finally rest in being blessed.

People say just enjoy the moment. But they do not see how unfamiliar joy can feel when you learned how to survive first. Receiving kindness can feel exposing when you are used to protecting yourself.

Still, I pray.

I pray for the day when kindness will not overwhelm me. When I will not need to recover from happiness. When I can receive love, recognition, and generosity with a full heart instead of a guarded one.

Until then, I am learning to be gentle with myself. This does not mean I am broken. It means I adapted. It means I survived.

And I believe that one day, joy will feel safe again.