Happiness is a funny thing. When you say someone is happy, it can either mean they’re momentarily experiencing joy, or it can mean that they have a genuinely happy soul. For a long time, I really only felt happiness in the first sense of the word- it was temporary, it was fleeting, and then it was gone.
I had an eating disorder and depression for years. It consumed my life and damaged a lot of relationships with people I cared about including my family. It’s an awful place to be in. And even though I’ve been recovered for about 3 years now, I’ve come to realize that it’s something that never truly goes away. Most of the time, its almost like I never struggled with those things. But then a bad season hits and its like I never healed in the first place.
In the past, I’d get frustrated and so angry-with God, with life, with the world, and with myself. Why was I made this way? Why was I broken? Why was I unfixable? But I have slowly learned, especially this year, that our struggles, our suffering, and our pain are not a part of our identity. They shape us- our values, our perspectives, our experiences, and our growth. But they do not define who we are.
We are not broken. We are not unfixable. We are human.
This year, I have very much begun to identify with the second definition of happiness- as a way of living. It doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days. It doesn’t mean I’m always perfectly kind to others. But it does mean that I find meaning, purpose, and hope in every moment. I approach the day with a grateful, happy heart. And it makes all the difference. Three years ago, I didn’t believe that life was worth enduring any longer or that my illnesses were worth fighting any more. But they are. They are they are they are. Fighting is worth it. Recovering is worth it. Healing is worth it. And I will never stop believing that because after all that Hell, I’m living a life that is so full, so good, and so worth living.
♡ ♡ ♡
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