There’s this weird thing that’s been going on with me lately. It’s so foreign that I almost feel like something’s wrong. Like, I probably have a tumor or something. It’s that abnormal. Because the thing is, well . . . I’m happy.
I know for a lot of you, that’s not really a big deal, but I have not traditionally been a happy person. Or not for some time, anyway. And when I was happy, it was because of someone or something. But now? Nothing is vastly different. Life is simple. Normal, I guess. And good. So so good.
I like my job. I like my friends. I like my life.
I keep waiting for the bottom to drop out, to fall back into my old pit of despair, but this happiness feeling seems to be sticking around. It’s so nice to finally feel content, to break out of that rut of thinking, “When I get _______, I’ll be happy.”
Nope, life’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. I’ve spent way too long waiting for someone or something to make me happy. And for what? Why should I wait?
I really like this quote, so let’s ignore the misspelling, shall we?
The past several months have been both positive and challenging, but I’m feeling very secure right now. I’ve learned that it’s a daily practice–being both strong and positive–to maintain this sense of peace. I’m just so glad to have this feeling come from within; I’m not trying to get it from someone or something. I feel like I can just be.
What I’ve realized, too, is that this kind of happiness is a lot harder to achieve than the happiness I thought I’d have–the one I took for granted. Doesn’t it always make us more appreciative if we get something from working for it than if it’s just handed over? Because life almost never works out exactly as you’d planned it would. But you get what you get. Might as well make the most of it, right?