How To Find Your Long Lost Smile

Notes on how to return to happiness after the rug gets pulled from under your feet

Photo by Chris Benson on Unsplash

I didn’t really understand why they wouldn’t let me go and see him.

I’d been looking forward to wishing my Grandpop a Merry Christmas all morning. But my Mum and Dad told me that it was better I stayed at home. I didn’t really understand their insistence either. Not until around 3 hours later anyway.

I’d spent Christmas morning in 2005 opening up all my presents and proceeding to make a grand old mess of the living room. My brother and I were comparing what we’d got, each attempting to prove we had the better presents. My Pokémon cards were obviously better than his Hot Wheels, of course.

Mum and Dad got back shortly before lunch. Dad stormed up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door shut. That vibration was like an earthquake to my 11-year-old body. Mum walked through the living room as if it were a swamp, with her eyes providing a foggy atmosphere for it.

“Did you wish Grandpop a Happy Christmas from us, Mum?”

In that moment, something was robbed from me.

Immediately, it was the smell of roast potatoes and turkey in the oven. It was the sounds of whatever Christmas jingle was playing on the radio. It was the smiles on mine and my brother’s faces.

But on a more fundamental level — it was my joy.

I loved Christmas. I loved everything about it. The magic. The colours. The cold winter nights. The time I got to spend with everyone in my family.

Now, it would have to be with one less of us.

I creeped up the stairs and ever so carefully let myself into the room where my Dad was shacked up. I’d never seen him cry before. It was the first time, and it will forever remain stained in my mind that feeling of knowing he wasn’t invincible.

My Grandpop had been in the hospital for a while before. He’d had some sort of surgery, and we were expecting him back before Christmas. Then, he contracted MRSA, a type of bacterial infection that gets spread like wildfire if not careful in hospital settings.

I never saw him again, and Christmas Day was tainted for me.

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Every year that followed, I hated the holiday season.

I turned the radio off at the first hint of Mariah Carey and her stupid once-a-year wonder.

I hated going to the shop for presents, with the reds and blues and greens of the light shows taking me back to that day.

My friends would constantly try to put a smile upon my face. “Come on, Will! ‘Tis the season!”

Not for me.

But the problem I had was that I was holding onto my lost joy. I knew how Christmas used to make me feel. That feeling of excitement and awe and wonder, all wrapped up in a perfect present. How could something happen that ripped it open before my eyes and left me with an empty box?

Every Christmas was a different emotion.

One year, it would be sadness.
One year, it would be anger.
One year, it would be indifference.

This kept repeating itself in a vicious cycle, to the point where I was living through the Autumn months knowing that a whole month of the year was approaching where I resigned myself to the negative forces of my mind.

Then, one day, all of that changed.

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“You’re seriously going to drag me there?”

It was 2019. My girlfriend Tatiana was insisting. She wanted desperately to go to Winter Wonderland in London.

For those of you who aren’t familiar, Winter Wonderland is a combination of a German-style Christmas market mixed with amusement park rides. Now, I’m not a huge fan of amusement parks on the best of days. But combining this with my mood for December was a recipe for disaster.

It was packed to the rafters. Queues for any beer tent or ride as far as the eye could see. Bloody freezing, my hands a peculiar shade of purple.

There wasn’t an exact moment persay, but I was just plain fed up. And my girlfriend wasn’t having it. We got into a fight, and proceeded to walk around the park in a stern silence.

Once again, there wasn’t an exact moment. But in that silence, I began to think about how I was being. I saw countless smiles of joy. Little kids thrilled to be out and about. Parents laughing while sipping on mulled wine. Groups of friends racing each other to the rides.

Then, there was me.

I’d seen this all before, but this year specifically, I’d rarely felt more alone.

But that’s when an epiphany came over me —

My lack of joy was costing other people theirs.

It had been nearly 15 years since my Grandpop passed. I’m always going to feel a little hurt on Christmas Day, but it is no-one else’s fault that what happened happened.

The older I get, the more I realise that our actions have consequences. Not only that, but that we have duties to our loved ones, our communities and our society. If I chose to continue wallowing in my own pity, I wasn’t just doing myself a disservice — I was, quite literally, bringing the whole world down with me.

As I was quarelling with my thoughts, we walked past the main Christmas tree in the middle of the park. There were those reds and blues and greens once again, but this time was different. Not only because Mariah Carey wasn’t playing (I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll never enjoy that tune), but I let go. I didn’t allow the voices in my head to judge those shining colours. Instead, I allowed myself to be transported back to when I was 5 or 6 or 7.

And I smiled.

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Whether we like it or not, our actions have consequences.

It seems like such an obvious mantra. But when we’re in the eye of the storm, our caring about that fact goes out the window. It becomes all too easy to focus on the storm of emotion. We feel like desperate captains, just trying to navigate the waves until the wind breaks and the shores appear.

But, in doing so, we forget that we aren’t the only member of crew onboard.

After seeing the tree, I apologised to Tatiana, told her what a downer I was being and a mulled wine would go someway to perking me up. She was surprised to see me with a grin on my face.

It might take all the strength you have available to muster a smile, or crack a joke, or feign excitement. But your loved ones need you. They need the best version of you. And even when your world is falling apart or you’re struggling to see the bright side of things, that fact doesn’t go away.

Here’s something funny…

Do you remember going through a difficult time in your life and something makes you laugh? Laughter is one of the purest forms of joy, but you almost feel guilty for it.

“I shouldn’t be laughing… there’s something more serious going on!”

But, yet, you do… You do smile. And you’re almost grateful to realise that you’re still capable of feeling something good and happy and pure.

Because our default as humans isn’t upset, anger and frustration — it is love, hope and grace.

Of course, there are going to be moments in life where negative emotion occurs. Those buggers who cut you off at a traffic light aren’t going away any time soon, or, much to my chagrin, neither is that Mariah Carey song.

But if you notice that your joy has been gone for a long period of time, take a second to think how you could be affecting others ability to feel it. Don’t beat yourself up for feeling bad, but realise how it reaches a point where it isn’t just about you anymore.

Every time these moments come up in life, we have a choice.

Our actions ripple like a fresh pebble in the water, and I don’t know about you, but I would rather spread waves of joy.

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Thanks for reading, gang.

It’s been a while since I posted. I’ve been going through some tough times away from the screen, and I appreciate your continued reading and support more than you know.

2025 should see posting back to a much more regular schedule, with more personal stories and fresh insights once my mind has cleared up a little.

I hope 2024 has been a blessing to you and your loved ones. If you want to reach out with any questions about all things writing and storytelling, my DMs are always open.

Until we ride again, gang.

WM

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