Happiness
As I journey through life, I realize that happiness doesn't come easily for me. Reflecting on why this might be, I recognize that as a child, I was never taught to be happy. That realization feels profoundly sad to me, and it only became clear after I became a mother. I was raised with the constant belief that something was always wrong—whether with me or someone else on any given day. My upbringing was far from ideal, but it shaped the person I am today. Despite everything, I feel like I turned out okay. I'm not sharing this for sympathy or comments, but to share my realization.
Life is hard. The world can be an ugly place. It's much easier to be nasty than to be happy, especially when surrounded by darkness and hatred. On my journey, I try to pause and breathe in what remains beautiful in this world—a world that I once knew was full of promise.
Reflecting on my life, I notice that I'm always waiting for something—the next chapter, the next paycheck, the next vacation, the next "what if," the next stage. I remember being 15 and fantasizing about my future, imagining my own place, the dishes I would have, the furniture, and the freedom.
Recently, I read something that resonated with me. It talked about guiding oneself into the present and soaking in the "now."
At 37, I've lived in many apartments, in different states, and experienced many wrong relationships. I've gone to college, became a yoga instructor, worked many wrong jobs, got married, bought a house, had a baby, and became a mom.
If I hadn’t moved out at 16, I wouldn’t have started my journey. It came at a major cost, but ultimately, it was a wonderful cost because it brought me to where I am today.
So why am I still working so hard to find happiness when I have everything I worked so hard for?
It goes back to how we were taught.
Yesterday, my son hurt his big toe on our morning walk. He refused to wear his shoes, and as he was running, one big slide of the foot scraped a big chunk of his toe. My husband and I rushed to see what he was trying to show us. Getting him in the stroller, I assured him everything was going to be okay, that we just needed to clean it and wrap it up. When we got back home, I sat him up on the counter and pulled out all the bandages. My son kept repeating, "I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry, Mom." That just broke my heart. Why was he apologizing for hurting himself? My husband and I both said, "You don't need to be sorry for this." I looked at him and explained, "You are enjoying your life and your journey, my love. This just means you had fun exploring, and these things happen."
I couldn't help but think about my childhood and what my mom would have said to me. As I am on the road to uncover my childhood traumas, I hurt all over from the thoughts that washed over me. My mother would have yelled at me for hurting myself, saying it would be an expensive bill, repeatedly asking why I did it. If I cried, she would have told me to shut up. If I didn't, she would have popped me in the mouth. In this moment, responding to my son, I am breaking the cycle. My son will know his mama has him and will keep him safe. He can explore the world without fear of consequence. He should never apologize for doing what he loves.
As I look at my son, I am determined to change this cycle for him. This realization has helped me immensely. I smile over 100 times daily and present the most positive outlook. I allow him to explore his feelings, something I was never allowed to do. I talk to him on his level, with eye contact and love. I shower him with a million hugs and kisses. I give him happiness.
My challenge for myself this year, and always, is to teach my child what it means to be happy and show others kindness to create that happiness. Through my teachings, I hope to change what was ingrained in me as a small child. Be kind. Breathe. Reflect. Share happiness.
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