I always thought that was nonsense. I always figured there was a reason I wasn't happy. I didn't have the right job, or enough money. I didn't have the house I wanted, or hadn't reached my goal-weight. If I could just get to that place/weight/salary/whatever, I could finally be happy.
It took a long fall and a hard landing at rock bottom to learn that isn't how happy works.
Happiness isn't defined by my jean size, my address, or my bank account. I define my happiness. That's a good news, bad news sorta thing. Sure, it's great that the choice is mine. But it also means that if I'm not happy, it's up to me to admit why.
Sometimes, the life we wanted - and planned for - isn't available. Even if we followed all the rules, stuck to the plan, kept to the schedule, life can still throw a curve-ball. We may have to face the fact that what we envisioned can't ever happen. The unfortunate reality is that not everything, or everyone, is within our control.
You need to change what you want.
That's a hard pill to swallow, especially if you're a stubborn planner who believes she can fix anything. It's actually easier to blame the outside stuff - your jean size or your bank account or your job title. Those are things you can change - and it's much easier to think your happiness is connected to something you control.
It's frightening, that we don't control our own destiny; that we can't force the round peg into the square hole and make it fit the way we want. It's frustrating and depressing and very scary.
You would think that finally accepting certain things are outside of our control would be the scariest thing any of us would have to face. No wonder so many never want to admit that there is anything we can't fix, including the life we wanted.
I have found one thing scarier. Reaching those outside goals, checking them off your list one-by-one, all the while realizing you're not any close to the happiness you thought you'd find.