A first-person account published this week describes how shutting out pain also shut out happiness, and what it took to reverse that.
A first-person essay published by The Ghana Report describes one writer's slide from easy childhood happiness into years of anxiety and emotional shutdown, and the slow process of finding joy again.
The piece is not a news report. It is a personal reflection, written anonymously, and it is worth reading as one person's account rather than as clinical advice. But the questions it raises are familiar to many readers, at home and in the diaspora.
What the writer describes
The essay opens with a simple question: when someone asks if you are happy, what do you say? As a child, the writer says, the answer was an instant yes. That changed.
The author describes anxious thought patterns that felt like weights dragging them underwater, and a struggle that only made the sinking faster. There are concrete symptoms in the account: appetite loss because of a persistent knot in the stomach, and avoiding sleep out of fear of what came with it, leaving dark shadows under the eyes.
Most of the writer's energy, the essay says, went into performing happiness rather than admitting to fear or worry.
Closing the heart
The central image of the piece is a heart boarded up behind a wall. Because heartbreak felt like death, the writer sealed the heart off so nobody could reach it. The protection worked, but it locked out good feeling along with bad.
"I boarded up my heart, closing it to everyone and everything… including happiness," the writer says.
For a long time, the essay explains, the numb gaps between bouts of distress were mistaken for happiness. In reality they were pauses before the next storm.
What changed
The turning point the writer identifies is making room. Rather than pushing away sadness, anger, loss and grief, the author says they had to accept those feelings first before the good ones had space to exist.
The essay argues that discomfort stretches a person's capacity to cope, emotionally and physically. The writer describes taking risks, stepping outside a comfort zone that was not actually comfortable, and slowly allowing trust and vulnerability with chosen people.
Recovery, in the author's telling, was not solo work. Credit goes to the friends and loved ones who valued the writer as they are. "Love is life. Love is happiness. Love is joy," the essay concludes, before returning to the opening question with a clear yes.
Why it matters
Mental health is still a subject many Ghanaian families handle in silence, and distance can deepen the isolation for Ghanaians living in the United States and elsewhere. Personal accounts like this one do not replace professional care, but they make the conversation easier to start.
Anyone experiencing persistent anxiety, sleeplessness or loss of appetite should speak to a qualified health professional.
