aisharebeccawritesMarch 18, 2016

Happiness. How do you even begin to define this word?
Is happiness a thing, a feeling or a state of mind? I know for certain, its definition lies only with the person who is defining it at the time. My definition of happiness will never truly be the same as someone else, because we are all different, think differently, live differently, love differently. We are all unique.

Are any of us ever truly 100% happy? Probably not. Some may say yes.We are constantly bombarded by advertising and media images telling us what we need to have to be happy. This car, this home, this kitchen, this washing machine! This BOGOF on baked beans (Do you even like baked beans?). The goals we set ourselves- new dress, big holiday. Whatever it may be. This is what I like to call the “goal-setting” of happiness. Something I’ve been guilty of.

Pictured sourced from imgfave.com

A lot of those things I strive for, but truthfully I know none of it will be worth it if I’m not happy within myself.Whilst some of those things may be “end goals”, life long dreams maybe (who doesn’t want their own washing machine?), I am under no illusion that those things themselves will not make my inner self happy. For some people this is the case and if so Great!

I think if everyone asked their family, friends, co-workers if they are truly happy with their lives, if they were honest, that’s say No. The picture perfect life that they may have painted, the smile they force onto their faces each day, the jobs they say they are happy in. The things you look at and think, why not me? If they were to be truly honest they’d probably say it didn’t make them happy. That the greener grass they seem to have isn’t that green and they wouldn’t cut it and sell it to you as happiness.

As I grow older and wiser (hopefully), knowing there are two years, (one year, 5 months and 12 days -to be pedantic) left to enjoy my twenties and I realise I’ve not spent it always being happy for me. I’ve allowed the things I view as failures to taint my specs and not appreciated the happiness I have created thus far all around me. I’ve forgotten that to be happy- I have to choose it.

I’d forgotten to appreciate my family and all they do for me, my friends who make every effort to spend quality time with me (because that’s my love language), my wonderful partner who puts up with what I can only describe as “emotional tornado girl” (hmm…new superhero?…maybe not) and strives to make me smile every chance he gets. I’d forgotten that I spent the last 3 years learning to dance, got injured, recovered and am now able to dance again (albeit slowly). That I’ve visited new places, made new amazing memories, am working towards that language goal (Slovak is hard but rewarding) and have so much more left to do.

I keep forgetting that I should write things at my own pace, do things for myself, not for other people. Look for my own little piece of happiness, first within myself and then within others. So I’m going to live the next 2 years (and the rest of my life for that matter) to the full. Create memories, create a life worth living for ME. Create my own HAPPINESS. Speed doesn’t matter, forward is still forward.

My twenties may be speedily coming to an end, but my life is just beginning. This Friday thought is the beginning of a new thought process for me, everyone (myself included) looks and aims for their own happy ending. But what if it isn’t about that? What if happiness is about writing our own stories and revelling in the fact we are all part of our own unique novels. We should enjoy writing our own stories and stop trying to read everyone else’s.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe happiness isn’t defined by getting things and constant goal setting and striving to be always happy. Maybe sometimes things cannot go how we’d planned it. Maybe sometimes, we need to be sad and angry and lost and the ending has to sometimes look bleak so that we learn. What if life isn’t about the “fairytale” happy ending? What if it’s about the story?

Picture sourced from ldsmediatalk.com

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