"My job is not
 to make you happy,"
 says Leticia, the therapist
 whose name means
 full of joy.

I don’t understand.

Then what is your job?
 What are we working toward?
 What is therapy for
 if not to create something
 other than depression?

Feelings change.
 Be mindful.
 Observe.
 Describe.
 Participate.

Move away
 from thinking about what is happening.
 Be present.

But—

I notice sadness.
 I want to notice happiness.

Is that not a goal?

"You were held back
 by thoughts about the situation."

But what if I am held back
 by the situation itself?

---

Consider this.

I once assessed
 why a woman needed
 a psych evaluation.

"I am here because
 I am too happy," she said.

"That is strange, isn’t it?" I asked.

Surely, there was more
 to her story.

Or consider Lucia.
 Lucia is 14.

Asked when she remembers
 being happy,
 she cannot remember
 such a time.

I suspect Major Depression.
 I suggest therapy,
 so she can feel happy.

What is your role, Leticia?
 Let’s talk about goals.

Because if I asked you—
 "Are you happy?"
 your answer would
 forever change,
 according to your philosophy.

But I—

I have known a time
 when I was happy.

A time when
 happiness lived in me—
 not fleeting,
 not conditional,
 not something to simply observe
 and let pass.

A time when,
 despite transient moments of sadness,
 I was still happy at my core.

And yet—

Even then,
 out of habit,
 I told the person I loved,
 "I am depressed."

Words that no longer fit me.
 Words that once defined me.
 Words that could hurt her—
 make her believe
 she brought me no happiness.

But happiness had changed me.
 It lived inside me.
 It did not deny sadness.
 It did not erase struggle.

And yet,
 it remained.