This seems to be psychobabble of late: Happiness is a choice.
Writers, bloggers, speakers, gurus, random inspirational guy on Instagram or whoever like to vomit this line all the time. I’d admit I was guilty of it before.
Is happiness really a choice?
It sounds like it is, but tell it to a depressed person, a starving kid in Africa, a homeless person or the cancer-stricken in the hospital.
Answers will definitely vary, which is expected since we’re all different.
Maybe happiness isn’t a choice then.
It’s a small gift. It’s a privilege. It’s a feeling. It’s an experience that comes and go randomly as it pleases.
Sounds frustrating? Maybe. Maybe not.
I think happiness can be choice, but sometimes it isn’t. Whatever the case, feeling anything less than happiness is absolutely okay.
It’s not the end of the world. There’s nothing wrong with you. Others, especially the pretentious ones are not better than you just because you’re a little unhappy today.
You can be other things then.
You can be interested in things.
You can be curious.
You can fuck up, and then learn.
You can make mistakes intentionally even, but you still can learn.
You can relax.
You can chill.
You can be nice, compassionate, kind and help others while feeling unhappy and honestly, no one would care.
You can be alive, and that’s most important.
Choice or not, just be something with your name on it.
I am sure you’ll get there one day.
Click here if you feel down in a rut and want a little help to get out of it.