We Are Responsible for Our Own Happiness
Happiness begins with me. I am the author of my life story. I have power over my own life and I make choices that determine my personal happiness, or personal misery. The key to my happiness is within me; it is as simple and as difficult as self-acceptance: If I am happy with myself, I am happy with life. I am complete in myself and all of life compliments my completeness and happiness. No person or thing, no accomplishment or event makes me happy. They all compliment my happiness.
I cannot be happy, however, If I am not happy with myself. And, if I’m not happy with being me, it’s not likely that I will look inside myself to find the key to my happiness. When I do not like myself, I look outside to find happiness. I depend on persons, places and things to make me happy. I am not responsible for my own personal happiness-- everyone else is.
I mistakenly believe my parents, children, friends and lovers are responsible for making me happy. Yet, even when they assure me that they love me and try to make me happy, I am still sad. Why? Because I am not happy with myself. When I am not happy with myself, I don’t believe that others are really happy with me either. I need constant approval from them, and when that’s not enough I sometimes try to eat my way to happiness with one more Twix bar, or shop my way to happiness with one more pair of shoes. And still, I am not happy.
I sometimes switch to a new job believing that I will then have new purpose and thus be happy. But every time I run into the same wall. I see my new coworkers as being more intelligent than I am; they seem more personable and fun; they seem better looking and dress better; they seem more ambitious and I just know that one of them will take this new job away from me. So I am still not happy.
I may pack up everything and move to a new city, Chicago or San Diego, to make myself happy. But this too fails because I’m not happy with myself and I have to take myself with me. Every place I go, there I am. If only I could escape me, I’d be so happy!
Or maybe, if only I could accept me, I’d be so happy. Maybe I could choose to go inside and find the real me. Then maybe I could start to love the real me. Maybe I am wonderfully made! Maybe I am as likable as people say I am! Maybe I am fun to be around! Maybe I am more handsome than I thought! And more talented! Maybe my spirit really can sing with a joy that’s always been deep within me, buried under self-loathing.
Today I take responsibility for my own happiness. I will go inside myself and open the treasure box that is me! I will not judge anything I find as good or bad; I will simply accept and learn to love myself just as I was knitted in my mother’s womb and happiness gradually will be mine.
I cannot be happy, however, If I am not happy with myself. And, if I’m not happy with being me, it’s not likely that I will look inside myself to find the key to my happiness. When I do not like myself, I look outside to find happiness. I depend on persons, places and things to make me happy. I am not responsible for my own personal happiness-- everyone else is.
I mistakenly believe my parents, children, friends and lovers are responsible for making me happy. Yet, even when they assure me that they love me and try to make me happy, I am still sad. Why? Because I am not happy with myself. When I am not happy with myself, I don’t believe that others are really happy with me either. I need constant approval from them, and when that’s not enough I sometimes try to eat my way to happiness with one more Twix bar, or shop my way to happiness with one more pair of shoes. And still, I am not happy.
I sometimes switch to a new job believing that I will then have new purpose and thus be happy. But every time I run into the same wall. I see my new coworkers as being more intelligent than I am; they seem more personable and fun; they seem better looking and dress better; they seem more ambitious and I just know that one of them will take this new job away from me. So I am still not happy.
I may pack up everything and move to a new city, Chicago or San Diego, to make myself happy. But this too fails because I’m not happy with myself and I have to take myself with me. Every place I go, there I am. If only I could escape me, I’d be so happy!
Or maybe, if only I could accept me, I’d be so happy. Maybe I could choose to go inside and find the real me. Then maybe I could start to love the real me. Maybe I am wonderfully made! Maybe I am as likable as people say I am! Maybe I am fun to be around! Maybe I am more handsome than I thought! And more talented! Maybe my spirit really can sing with a joy that’s always been deep within me, buried under self-loathing.
Today I take responsibility for my own happiness. I will go inside myself and open the treasure box that is me! I will not judge anything I find as good or bad; I will simply accept and learn to love myself just as I was knitted in my mother’s womb and happiness gradually will be mine.
Bravo on this, Father Charlie! The most basic of all our choices is to be happy or to be "not happy." An extraordinary book on this topic which can be found in your own bookstore is "Gift of Years" by Joan Chittister. I STRONGLY recommend it to all of your readers. Chittister's book has had a major impact on my life and the choices I make.
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