I’ve reached a level of happiness that feels unprecedented. This isn’t about a fleeting moment of joy from something spectacular happening; rather, it’s a profound sense of contentment that has settled in. Even on my toughest days, there’s a deep-seated peace regarding the core aspects of my life.
This newfound joy is even more remarkable considering how my year began — it was riddled with challenges. For months, it felt like I was just trying to recover from one setback after another, with no area of my life feeling safe. Everything seemed to be pouring down on me — my health, my children, my friendships, and my family were all struggling.
Then, as if a breeze shifted, change began to happen. Gradually, each part of my life that had been faltering started to rebound. Over several months, I marveled at how everything began to align perfectly, like magic. The things I thought were lost or hopeless were merely stepping stones toward something better. In my struggles, I had been blind to my own growth.
Sure, life isn’t flawless, and it never will be. Each day presents its own hurdles, and I still face my fair share of tears, fears, and obstacles. However, overall, I feel genuinely happy — the happiest I’ve been in as long as I can remember. My family, marriage, home, and career are all stable; for the first time in ages, what I truly desire is either mine or within grasp. When I take a moment to reflect, I find a sense of peace and opportunity without any immediate, daunting challenges.
So, why does the thought of it all falling apart fill me with dread? I wish I could embrace my happiness without hesitation, but sometimes my anxiety whispers that I don’t deserve it. Recently, I acknowledged that I often live in a state of anxious expectation, bracing myself for the moment when everything crumbles and I’m left with a mediocre life — a life I fear I somehow deserve.
This realization was disheartening. How could I perceive myself through such a negative lens? I’ve spent years advocating for self-love, particularly regarding body image and fat positivity. I’ve intentionally changed how I speak to myself about my size, transforming my perspective on living in a fat body. While I still have insecurities, I’ve equipped myself with strategies to combat them.
I no longer squander emotional energy fixating on my perceived physical flaws. Aspiring for the physical perfection dictated by media and diet culture is no longer a goal of mine, and that’s liberating. I always thought that my struggles with body image were my primary source of self-doubt. I believed that once I gained control over how I viewed my body, I’d have conquered my deepest insecurities. But I was mistaken.
While improving my body image is valuable work, I realize I still have a long journey ahead in recognizing my worthiness of good things. A voice in my head keeps insisting that only exceptional people deserve a life filled with happiness. It then questions who I think I am, challenging my belief that I deserve peace.
You know what? I do believe I’m exceptional. I’m starting to see that considering myself extraordinary isn’t a bad thing. Humility doesn’t mean I have to downplay my greatness. Yet, the idea of viewing myself as anything but ordinary induces guilt, and I can’t pinpoint why.
Perhaps it stems from my upbringing, where women were expected to be modest and self-effacing. Maybe living in a fat body has fostered deeper insecurities than I’ve acknowledged. Or perhaps I’m just an ordinary person grappling with the reality of my own good fortune.
I haven’t resolved this dilemma yet. I can’t always understand why I feel like the happiness in my life should belong to someone else. But what I do know is that I feel incredibly fortunate to have this life — my husband, my children, my family, my cozy little home, my career, my friends — all of it. Life has gifted me with these blessings.
It’s okay if I don’t fully understand why. I don’t want to lose sight of the fact that much of my happiness is rooted in privilege and sheer luck. I also want to recognize that some of it stems from my efforts. Maybe my marriage is strong because we’ve nurtured it well. My kids might be thriving because I’ve loved them deeply and taught them kindness. I likely reside in a home I cherish because I’ve cared for it. I probably have great friends because I’ve been a good friend myself.
Some of this happiness is mine to claim. Acknowledging that won’t magically erase the anxiety that my happiness could all come crashing down like a house of cards. Yet, I’ll strive to stop living in fear of impending doom. Sometimes, things are simply good, and even if I can’t always see the reason why, I deserve to rest in that joy.
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In summary, navigating happiness can be complex, especially when past insecurities cloud our perception of self-worth. However, recognizing our accomplishments and the joy we deserve is crucial. Embracing both our privileges and our efforts can help us savor life’s beautiful moments without fear.