I think I might have forgotten what makes me happy.
I know what I love and what I love doing, but happiness has seemed somewhat distant lately.
Happiness is defined by so many things, all valid but relevant at different moments. I think what I am questioning at the moment is life satisfaction, which contributes to happiness.
Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful for everything I have, and every circumstance has meaning. I’m blessed with so much and don’t want to chase after greed and extravagance.
But there are little things that are missing right now…
Feeling calm and collected. Feeling excited to make things and be creative. Wanting to exercise and be by the sea.
The hustle of my work life tends to override these small things, consuming every moment I might use to reclaim them. I know that my work life is building something meaningful, and I feel like it’s preparing me for my wildest dreams.
Maybe it is wise to recognise that happiness isn’t always found in the destination but in how we travel.
These “small things” I’m missing—creativity, calm, and connection to nature—aren’t just pleasant additions to life; they’re the essential ingredients that make the journey worthwhile.
What if the path to my wildest dreams isn’t meant to bypass these moments of joy, but to be woven with them? Maybe happiness isn’t something I’ve forgotten, but something I’ve temporarily set aside, believing it could wait until I “arrive.”
The irony is that these small joys might be the very compass I need to ensure I’m heading in the right direction.
