On the Night I Bury My Joy | Perhaps the Bulb Is Still There
Give your heart a moment to breathe.
Hello, I'm Yukino.
The night when "congratulations" sounded far away
In the middle of the night, my phone screen glowed softly.
Only the white light floated in the dark room.
When I picked it up, I saw the words "Happy Birthday."
Warm words continued for several lines.
I went to type "Thank you"—but my fingers stopped.
I noticed that the palm of the hand holding the screen had grown slightly cold.
Even though I should be happy, the depths of my heart tightened.
Because somewhere in my heart, I could hear another voice.
"Do I really deserve to be celebrated this much?"
"Won't this happiness be taken away from me someday?"
The moment I feel joy, an anxiety that the ground beneath me might crumble rushes in.
Have you ever had your heart touched on a night like that?
When I used to delete my joy
There was a time when I would brace myself whenever joy came my way, for some reason.
It was the day I achieved results at work and received applause from those around me.
The moment my boss patted me on the shoulder and said, "Well done," the sound of the applause felt distant for some reason.
Before the joy, I felt a tightening sensation in the back of my throat.
"It was just a fluke."
"Next time, I surely won't be able to meet expectations."
"If I get carried away, I'll pay for it later."
That night, my thumb stopped before the commemorative photo I was about to put in my phone's album.
At the prompt "Move to Trash?"—
The moment I pressed "Yes" without hesitation—
For some reason, I felt relieved and let out a long sigh.
I could only feel at ease by deleting the evidence of my happiness.
Rather than being weak, perhaps I was protecting myself by doing so.
Because I had memories of being deeply hurt every time I felt joy, my heart would instinctively raise a shield that said, 'Do not feel joy.'
Your caution is proof of how deeply you have been hurt.
So perhaps, for now, it is okay not to lower that shield.
You don't have to let joy bloom right away.
Let me talk a little about bulbs here.
After tulip bulbs are buried in the soil in autumn, they spend the entire winter in the dark earth.
No sprouts appear.
No flowers bloom.
From the outside, it looks like nothing is happening.
But beneath the soil, they are quietly extending their roots.
In a place no one can see, they are preparing for spring.
Roots were growing during the time that felt like it had stopped—
I think that happens to people, too.
Joy might be the same.
You don't have to let it bloom right now—
If you can think that way, that might be enough.
If your heart is still in winter, I think it is okay to have the feeling of letting it sleep in the soil for now.
'Someone celebrated me today.'
'There were words of recognition for me today.'
You can just entrust that fact to the soil for a while—
That kind of image might be fine.
Even if your emotions haven't caught up yet, that is enough for now.
The bulb hasn't disappeared.
It is breathing quietly in the soil.
The act of leaving something behind
There are some who are uncomfortable with the word 'letting go.'
It is not about forgetting, forgiving, or giving up.
It is just leaving it here—
That kind of action might be similar to joy.
"I cannot accept it right now, but I will not pretend it didn't happen."
Perhaps those words alone are enough.
Just as you keep your hands free, make a little space in your heart.
When you bury a bulb in the soil, you don't have to expect it to bloom immediately.
It will survive the winter, take root, and prepare in a place no one can see.
You can trust in that time.
I believe joy is surely like that, too.
Even if you don't rush, it won't go anywhere.
So, if there is a small warmth in a corner of your heart tonight—
Whether it's words of celebration you received or a moment you felt acknowledged—
It might be enough to simply bring it to mind.
It doesn't matter if you don't feel happy.
It is enough to just vaguely think, "This might be a small bulb."
Imagine holding those words in the palm of your hand.
Feeling as if a small bulb is resting there.
If you can feel as though you are gently covering it with soil in your heart.
"I won't let it bloom now.
But I will keep it here."
—Perhaps it is okay to have nights where you feel that way.
Slowly close your palm.
You might feel as if a faint warmth remains at your fingertips.
It is fine if it sprouts, and fine if it doesn't.
I feel that tonight, it is enough for only you to know that you buried the bulb.
Do not blame yourself for not being able to feel joy
"I am a cold person for not being able to feel happy, even though they went to the trouble of celebrating me."
There may be nights when you think that.
But even if there are nights when you want to blame yourself, it is okay.
The reason you cannot feel joy is not because you are cold.
It is because you have been hurt so deeply in the past.
Because your heart has been desperately trying to protect you, saying, 'I never want to be hurt again.'
That caution is the shield that has brought you this far.
Perhaps the joy that arrives later is also a form of joy.
Just as you notice the spring sprouts only after winter has passed,
there may come a day, months from now, when you suddenly remember, 'Maybe those words were warm after all.'
The bulb is still there, even if you don't dig it up.
If there is something you can do tonight, it is simply to 'keep the words that celebrated you without erasing them'—that alone is enough.
Just knowing that there is a place where you buried them.
I feel that is enough for today.
It is okay to leave them here.
If you need them again, you can come back to get them.
Even if they don't bloom,
even if you cannot feel joy just yet.
You are beautiful.
Until we meet here again.
Yuki's
[Welcome to Cocomichi's 'Library of the Heart']
I hope this article has brought even a little bit of space to your heart.
At 'Cocomichi,' I hope to continue delivering peace of mind and small realizations to you.
🌸 If you are looking for the next article to read
[If you're lost, start here]
You can find your next read based on how you are feeling right now.
【 Branches and Leaves Close to Your Heart 】
□ If it is a night where you feel happy, but fear comes first
→ [ That night when the light was passed to me ]
□ If you do not want to rush to sort out mixed feelings that have no name
→ [ Emotions are gentle translators ]
□ If you want to believe in what you received, even if nothing has changed by the next morning
→ [ Even on a morning that doesn't change, the residual heat remains ]
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→ [ 📚 Library of the Heart: Exploration Guide ]