As the oldest child who grew up in an alcoholic/dysfunctional family, I took on a lot of responsibility. I took on the emotional burden of the problems my mother suffered through and needed to find a way to make a path for myself. I threw myself into school, work, and creativity.
I survived by using my imagination to dream up new worlds, creatures, and places.
But I worked hard and always felt that the rug would be pulled out from under me at any time. I lived life as though an earthquake could raze everything that I had built in my life.
Happiness seemed an elusive and temporary moment for me. There’s a Terrence Malick film with Ben Affleck in it that comes to mind. Olga Kurylenko is Affleck’s love interest in the film. She goes through an extremely difficult time in the movie but has these flashes of brilliance. There’s a scene in which she’s running through the fields, stops, and turns back. A bright light shines directly on her face and illuminates her like she’s seen an angel of God.
Watching that scene reminds me of how I grew up and how I also used to think about creativity. I would have brief flashes of happiness that would be snatched away from me. And when I did write and create things, I used to wait “for the muse” to inspire me. I’d write stories and books when I felt inspired.
When I look back, I can now compare how I wrote with exercise: I can’t imagine running a marathon without putting in the training. I’ve run three marathons, and it takes months of training, and that’s after you have a solid core base of running (normally, running experts recommend having two years of running under your belt). There is no way I could run one day, then pick it up two weeks later, and then run for two days straight and suddenly think I could run a marathon. I’d hurt myself if I tried that.
Being creative, it’s the same thing. I need to put in the work each day. I write on a schedule and have learned that writing makes me happy.
I have given myself permission to embrace life and feel better. Part of that means that I exercise regularly and do the same with writing.
But for a long time, I didn’t permit myself to be happy. I’d chase happiness, be ecstatic for a while, and then my world would fall apart. I’d find a woman I had a crush on, fall in love with being in love, chase after that fleeting dream, and all would crash to the ground. I’d be unhappy, upset, hurt, and the cycle would start over again after a time.
A lot changed in my life after I realized that I could be happy on my own. I would strength in myself and joy in who I am—and not trying to define myself through the love of another.
When you permit yourself to be happy, doors will open for you in ways that you cannot comprehend.
How to start?
Take a small first step.
You can do it.
Like what you’ve read? Be sure to check out my other posts in my Let Go and Be Free blog.