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It trickles down your face, until it blurs your vision altogether. You know, like when you walk in the rain because you’ve forgotten your umbrella at home, zooming out when you’re already late for wherever you need to go. The worrying that you’re just not enough, the relentless questioning of the self and your worthiness to be happy, to be seen, the constant “why me?” again, and again, and again. And always.

Yes, you are worthy. Yes, you deserve happiness. Sorry to disappoint, but yes, you have to work for it. Just like everyone else. It won’t fall down from the heavens straight into your lap one day, but it’s not something unattainable because of some malicious twist of fate or some malevolent spirit that’s sabotaging you. It’s equal parts learning what you should accept from the universe as it is, what you’re willing to accept as it is, as well as working up the courage and mustering up the energy to fight for what should be changed for the better.

You’re well aware that you’re imperfect. How could you not be awaew, when you’re reminded from all directions, in all shapes and forms, from the oh, so very subtle, to the blunt, uncensored, completely tone deaf?

You’re bound to be disheartened. You’ll want to give up on everything and everyone. You’ll want to be left the fuck alone. All that background noise can become too much to take for even a second longer, let alone a whole day. You’ll long for silence and for a calm that you’re hard-pressed to find. How can you hear your own thoughts when they’re swirling around, joining the constant buzzing from outside yourself?

Please, don’t give up. In this anxiety-ridden society, it’s easy to fall prey to the idea that you’ll always be a fraud, that in fact you don’t deserve any of the good things happening to you and that happiness is something that’s been given to you because someone up there must have fumbled the list of recipients. So now that you’re going through a rough patch, it’s surely what you were meant to receive all along. This must be the point in time when karma re-balances itself.

There’s another side to this whole mess yet. It’s one I plead guilty of and that I’m arduously trying to work on, putting in a lot of energy and just a bit more time than I’ve been doing so far. As much as I’d like to, I can’t just do an about face to the way I’ve been approaching certain situations and relationships. After all the effort to bring forth those rare and precious moments of happiness, it can feel to some almost impossible to accept them, to take them in and just stay like that for a few seconds.

For some absolutely inexplicable reason, it can feel that if you enjoy your short stretches of happiness, you’re rubbing it in someone less fortunate’s face. As if their happiness were your own responsibility, not mainly theirs. So you stifle it, you bury it, you find all sorts of ways of reducing happiness to something unimportant, of no consequence. Worst of all, you sabotage it, to make it last as little as possible, lest it make others jealous, envious, upset.

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Photo by Igor Ovsyannykov on Unsplash

What is happiness to you? And why might you not deserve it, even those little crumbles you manage to gather, through sometimes completely disproportionate effort? I don’t have an answer ready for you, other than we humans somehow manage to damage and break – each other, and ourselves. Putting the pieces back together and learning to see yourself as whole and deserving might be the most daunting task of your existence. But so satisfying once you manage to get a hang of it.

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