stop trying to be happy

on living a happy life and the illusion of it all

I don’t think I’ve ever known what it means to be happy. Does anyone? 

I’ve had many goals in my life, but the one that never goes away is both the simplest and most elusive. I want to lead a happy life. When I was younger, I thought it’d be inevitable if I followed the right steps. Working hard in school would get me a good, high-paying job. A good job would get me money, which would mean I wouldn’t struggle to pay the bills like my parents. I watched my parents argue and fret about money all the time, so I thought being happy went hand-in-hand with being financially stable. In all honesty, it probably does. Along the line I’d fall in love with the man of my dreams and have a few kids. I’d lead a good, happy life. 

None of that is real. I’m nineteen, and I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I know I’m passionate about writing and reading, but neither of those seem particularly lucrative. The man of my dreams is a delusion. I don’t know if I’m cut out for marriage. I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a mother. I’m scared of everything, and I smoke too much weed. I just want to be happy.

I’ve been thinking about what it even means to be happy. Is anyone truly happy? I don’t think so. This might sound depressing; I don’t mean it that way. I just mean the idea of an entirely peaceful and happy life is an illusion. By nature, life is messy and disheartening. Things don’t go as we plan them. Grief and heartache are around every corner. No one can escape them.

one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets

There’s so much pressure to be happy. I lead a pretty privileged life. Yet if someone asks me if I’m happy, I can’t give them a definitive answer. I cherish so many things: my family, my friends, my cats, the books I read, the words I write, the birds outside of my window, the music I listen to. I have so much joy—but am I happy? I don’t know. I’m starting to realize it doesn’t matter as much as I think it does. 

Joy and happiness are very different to me. Joy is embedded in the moments we hold onto during the worst of times. Joy is everywhere, and I truly believe it can never be taken away from us. There’s always a way to find it. 

Happiness is a state of being. I’ve been reaching for it my whole life, and I’m starting to realize it will always be just out of my grasp. Something will always be wrong. Something in our lives will always hurt. That doesn’t mean we’re leading sad lives. 

I messed up. I’ve been thinking of my life’s worth as directly correlated to my perceived happiness at any given time. In reality, my life doesn’t matter more if I’m happy. My life matters more if I make more out of it. When I’m creating art and love in the world, I’m giving my life more meaning. 

Of course, I want to get to the end of my life and think wow, that was a good time. Everyone wants that, but it shouldn’t be the thing pushing us forward. 

Horrible things will happen to you. Horrible things will happen to me. This is inevitable, but joy is too. I find small moments every day to be grateful that I’m alive. It’s a miracle that I’m writing these words right now, and it’s a miracle that you’re reading them. The recognition of that miracle is joy. 

I’ve wanted to live a happy life, but I’m shifting to something new. I want to live a full life. I want to meet lots of people and engage with lots of art and make some of my own. I want to help people and make them feel less alone. I want to witness and observe nature.

image found on Pinterest

The bad times will come, God knows they already have in a lot of ways. 

That’s okay. I have faith in the joy that will come too. Nothing is a waste if there was love and joy there.

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hope this finds you all well. this kind of topic has been on my mind for a while. if any of my words resonated, feel free to comment, share, or subscribe to support my future work.

until next time,

grace <3