Granting Yourself Permission
Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009
Many years ago, when confronted by the question, “Are you happy?” I distinctly recall my reaction. Though the individual posing it was being completely sincere, I felt it was a ludicrous thing to ask. How could something so simple seem like such a strange query? As she awaited a response; my mind, only partially aware of the ever increasing lull in the conversation, was desperately trying to piece together some semblance of a reply. I stumbled around a bit and timidly answered with, “I guess”. After that, the rest of the exchange was a blur.
Looking back on it now, I understand why I reacted in that manner. It was a subtle form of shock. There I was, in my early twenties, never having contemplated whether or not I was truly happy at the deepest level of my being. In fact, up until that point, I don’t think I even considered happiness an option or an emotion associated with living life. Sure, I had fleeting moments of joy, but real, concrete happiness always seemed to be a nice fantasy reserved for someone else.
For me, life at that point had become completely unintentional. I lived to get things done and that was that. I was working and going to college, but all of my experiences were devoid of passion, drive, purpose, clarity and meaning.
Other than the emotion of fear, I had little reason to get out of bed in the morning. Fear and anxiety became my sole motivators for living. I stayed at a job where I was underpaid and under appreciated because of the fear of trying something new. I went to school, not for myself or because I enjoyed it, but because I was scared of what my family would think if I didn’t go and terrified of what would become of me without a degree.
(Read the rest of Granting Yourself Permission…)
