
Recently I heard one of my favorite authors, therapist Lori Gottlieb of âMaybe You Should Talk To Someoneâ fame, refer to the word âcherophobiaâ in an interview. She described it as a fear of being happy and commented on how common it is with trauma survivors. When I heard this word and description I literally stopped in my tracks because it hit me like a lead pipe over the head. Could this be why I so often feel an almost terror arise in me when I make plans for something fun?Â
I pondered it for quite a while until I remembered that very early on in therapy I had mentioned to my therapist that I always thought Iâd die young. Iâm always hoping for the best but expecting the worst. I just assume that if I am happy about something itâs going to backfire and something awful is going to happen instead. She told me this was a hallmark symptom of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and promptly diagnosed me as such.
I felt a sense of relief knowing I wasnât alone and that there was a reason why I feel this low grade sense of dread all the time, but I was also frustrated. It got in the way of my truly experiencing joy in moments where I am actually happy. Itâs like experiencing happiness from within a balloon. You can see it, maybe even smell it, but you canât actually touch it because thereâs this thin layer of âprotectionâ between you and it ready to soften the blow when the thing disappears or something bad happens to it.
But my cherophobia goes one step farther, itâs not just that Iâm afraid of the other shoe falling at any moment, shattering through the glass ceiling above me, I am afraid that if Iâm wishing for something happy or good to happen and it doesnât, Iâm somehow responsible for it and so Iâve let everyone else who was also hoping for it down just because I wished so hard for it. I know this sounds completely irrational but itâs very real and a very difficult type of guilt to live with.
Iâll give two examples of this beyond things like any time I travel anywhere by plane Iâm pretty sure the plane will crash or if I am supposed to go on a date Iâll probably get an irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) flare that day and wonât feel well enough to go. In 2014, I was supposed to go see Céline Dion perform with my aunt and I was beyond ecstatic to not just see her, but to share something so meaningful with my aunt who was super special to me. Iâve had Céline cancel two shows previously that I was scheduled to attend, so I was watching the date like a hawk, encroaching on me like a collapsing black hole. I felt this existential dread. Sure enough, a week prior to the show, she cancelled her shows because her husband was so ill she decided she needed to be with him. Not only did I feel devastated by the fact that I wasnât going to see Céline perform, but I felt like because I wished so hard for this to happen I was responsible for everyone elseâs disappointment and poor Rene being so sick.
In 2020, I was finally going to get back to my beloved Paris, with my husband, to see Céline Dion in Paris. And then COVID-19 hit and the world shut down and I couldnât help but feel like I was somehow at fault. Not in an actual physical way, but some existential âI must be bad and make the universe unhappy so I donât deserve to be happyâ kind of way. This fundamental sense of âI am badâ is so common amongst survivors of trauma that itâs often one of the things we struggle the hardest to overcome.
Trauma makes us self centered, and not in the âIâm better than everyone elseâ kind of way. Itâs more of a reverse narcissismâ a sense that everything that has ever happened in our lives is because we are fundamentally flawed. Itâs this tar pit of shame that we try to swim in but feel stuck and like we are constantly being pulled under into it. This is where my cherophobia exists, in the swampland of my shame.
Mindfulness in the moment can allow me to actually enjoy things, but the thing that I always miss is the anticipatory joy that so many often feel is even more exciting than the actual trip or event. I never get to experience the full range of happiness because thereâs always a nagging negative nelly holding me back, on a tape loop in my head telling me not to get my hopes up. In the end itâs better to be prepared for the worst and enjoy the best than to hope for the best and have to face the devastation of disappointment.Â
For the longest time I repressed my feelings because I didnât want to feel unsafe, helpless, hopeless, sad, angry, disgusted or any of the other feelings that I perceived to be ânegative.â By numbing those feelings I also numbed my ability to fully feel âgoodâ feelings too, like happiness and joy. As Iâm rediscovering the ability and language to be able to express the full myriad of feelings within the human capacity, I need to begin to build tolerance for the inevitability that things will go wrong, I cannot control everything and even if something bad happens, I can and will survive. Maybe by finally relinquishing control over myself and everything around me I can finally truly embrace the possibility of being happy and allow myself to relish in the anxious anticipation of happy events with an open heart and a clear mind.

source https://www.programage.com/news/When_Trauma_Makes_You_Afraid_of_Being_Happy_1621920636510681.html
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