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Why I’d Rather Be Accomplished Than Happy

Over the last few years, I’ve given myself a hard time and I’ve really struggled with the idea of happiness. For a long time, it was all I wanted to be and I wanted it so badly. But I’m kind of over it now because happiness is so fickle and fleeting that i’ve grown tired of chasing it. I’ve thought a lot about how to dig myself out of this dark hole I continue to plough into and so far, I haven’t found a solution. So I’ve stopped looking for one. If I can’t be happy I want to be successful. I want to propel myself towards money or fame or anything that can fill this vast, vast emptiness I have left myself with. This isn’t good advice, nor a suggestion that happiness and success are mutually exclusive, but I don’t think it’s trying to be. Instead, it’s an “I’m trying, I promise” and I hope you are doing the same.

I know that nothing lasts forever so I’m trying to seize what I can from the world, instead of getting caught up in fabricating a happiness that just isn’t there. I think the urgency we place on happiness has fuelled, if not causes the rise in mental illness- we are all told from a young age that ‘happiness is everything’- but what happens when it is just so hard, impossibly hard, even, to find.

I’m not good at sports or drama or painting or taking care of myself. But, i’m trying- every day, I try.

I try every day to be better and I think that’s the difference between happy people and people who see happiness as a helium balloon to which they could never quite cling.

I fall into the latter category and it took me a long, long time to accept that I am just not a happy person. Many happy people are content, whilst unhappy people are stuck in a constant cycle of change and exhausting self-improvement. That’s not to say I don’t try though. I love books and art and traveling the world. I love music and screaming until my lungs burst at concerts and most importantly I love people. I love their weird quirks and their stories and working out what makes them tick. But, all the things I love are just distractions from the dull ache on my heart- the ache that says it’ll never be enough. That all the love and support in the world cannot magic away the sadness. I’ve accepted that it can’t, but I still really wish that it could. I believe that, like the pain of childbirth, perpetual sadness is something one can never understand have they not experience it first hand.

This isn’t to say my life is vacant of happy moments; I see happiness every day, I find things to be thankful for and I try to be a part of them. The distraction serves its purpose, but there is always something missing- something deep in the pit of my stomach and I know there always will be. I don’t want to blame anyone for this, but I, like most young adults, have been raised in the world where ‘happiness’ is idolised. Where happiness is seen as being our ultimate goal and destiny. The idea gets me down sometimes because it’s a human state I struggle to maintain- it is hard to live in a world of sunshine and rainbows, or try to, when you feel nothing but low. I’m sure that happiness is wonderful and I’m not trying to deter people from it, I just think trying to force happiness is a backwards way of thinking in a progressive world where mental health is the most prevalent issue of its time.

This is not encouragement to lose hope- I still believe that happiness is out there, but like emotional stability or male privilege, it is just not there for me to enjoy. I’m a realist and I have stopped relying on happiness because I know that if life was just about contentment, I wouldn’t feel so goddamn hungry for something else all the time. I am seventeen, and like most 17 year olds, I’m starting to make big decisions about my future and whilst most of my friends make decisions to be happy, I make decisions to retain my sanity. I think things like legacy and success and drive are all valid pursuits and just as worthy as the pursuit of happiness and I don’t want to be somebody who has a picture perfect life, I just want to be someone who can make themselves into someone- I don’t think anyone as restless as I could find such peace, to be honest. Happiness is subjective and flimsy and I need something far more concrete to hold my fragile heart together.

I’d rather be accomplished and recognized and do things that won’t fade. I want to be part of something, a cause or mission that will forever and tie me into the history we hope to be a part of. I’m thinking back on being 14, on the times when every day felt like the end of the world and how much I wanted to mark my place in the world, about how much I wanted to create something that meant something and how happy people so rarely seemed to make history. Happy people, it would seem, are too busy being happy and settled to need to change the world, to fight for the causes I need to fight for. 

I am ambitious and restless and trying to work on myself. Every day. I cannot rely on happiness to keep me afloat, I cannot mark it as my life ambition when it so consistently lets me down, because although life may work out, more than likely it won’t. If I put all my faith in an abstract idea, what happens when it gets lost in the wind?

Happiness isn’t everything, despite what you’ve been told, so don’t feel lost if feels unattainable. Pursue something, become someone, build an empire and make peace with yourself as we forever endeavor to be better. Here’s to the pretty reckless, the forever restless among us. You’ll be alright.

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