Happy? Who, me? When?

I don’t remember the last time I felt happy.
I don’t remember the last time I felt normal.
I don’t remember the last time I thought, “this is fun”.

If I really strain my brain, I can vaguely remember when he and I used to go to the pool at the apartment complex we were living in at the time. We would go every evening after work. It was a nice little walk through the complex to get there. We would just hang around in the edge of the water. Talking, or not talking. Nice little walk back to the apartment.

I remember feeling happy when he first moved in back at the apartment and we would cuddle, or go somewhere in the car and sit next to one another.

I have to strain really hard to think of something before or since that. Maybe riding the Harley? Maybe when my first granddaughter was a baby and I used to keep her for days at a time? Maybe when I was a cop? Maybe the hours spent out in the swing at night back in the country? The time spent in the barn with the animals?

I had to put some things in my personnel file at work this morning. I looked through the pictures taken over the past 6 years. My countenance has changed so drastically.

The first couple of pictures, whether I was smiling or not, I just plain looked happy, or at least content. The last one, taken about 4 months ago, is a tired lonely sad looking lady I don’t even recognize. She looks like someone who has hung on just about as long as she can. It is rather embarrassing to think that when people look at me that is what they see.

I don’t think it is normal not to be able to remember being happy. The last time I remember was probably 6 years ago. Is that normal?