People who love us often just want to see us happy. Thriving. Lighting up every room. It’s a beautiful wish—but it quietly implies that our value shows up only in joy. And that’s a problem.
Because no one—no grounded, self-aware person—is joyful all the time. The truth is, if someone’s smiling non-stop, you start to wonder if they’re avoiding something. Real people feel deeply. We swing. We falter. We question. That’s not weakness. That’s humanness.
The real work isn’t to stay high. It’s to stay aware.
Here’s a thought worth sitting with:
What if your down days aren’t setbacks, but invitations?
What if the heavy moments—the hormonal dips, the off Sundays, the questioning mornings—are actually portals to something you haven’t yet understood about yourself?
When I feel myself spiraling, I remind myself: There is no “other version” of me showing up. This is still me. Just another page in the same story. Without my off days, I wouldn’t have the insight or softness or humor I carry now. The parts of me I used to hide are now the very ones I cherish. And share.
Still, these emotional swings can feel confusing. Especially in a city like Los Angeles, where the weather tries to convince you to be happy just because it’s sunny—or makes you question everything when it’s not.
Let me give you something that’s helped me on the days when sunshine doesn’t come through the window fast enough to pull me out of bed.
Mini Practice: The “Why Bother” Mornings
If you wake up and your first thought is What’s the point?, try this:
- Don’t force motivation. Instead, ask: What’s one thing I’m willing to look forward to today? Not a “should.” A real want.
- Start a Morning Nirvana List. Five things each day. Tiny things. Could be the first sip of coffee. Could be your dog’s snoring. Write them down. Every day. Give your brain proof that not all joy is earned—it sometimes just happens.
And here’s what brought this home for me:
One morning, I was driving down the 405. Not glamorous. But as the light cut through the marine layer and hit the roofs of the cars around me, I felt something unexpected. Like my body got kissed from the inside out. I call it the inner kiss—a kind of warmth that arrives when I stop pushing, and start noticing.
That’s when I remembered a post I’d written the night before, full of frustration about what I didn’t have. I was so focused on the gaps, I forgot about the gold already in my life.
That morning, I promised myself to stop making my joy conditional.
I even set a reminder on my phone:
“Five reasons why today was worth it.”
Because worthiness isn’t a conclusion you reach. It’s a muscle you build by noticing what’s already good.
Deeper Reflection: Your Real Bucket List
Later that day, something else came to me.
I remembered all those bucket lists I used to write—exotic places, wild dreams, high highs. But looking back, many of them felt performative. Aspirational, yes. But not fully honest.
I hadn’t asked myself:
- What do I actually want to feel before my time’s up?
- What would I regret not experiencing—not because it sounds impressive, but because it would feel like me?
So here’s your invitation:
Write a new bucket list. A real one.
Not for someday. For now.
And don’t stop there—make it actionable. Pick one thing and figure out how to make it possible this year.
Because a list that lives in a drawer is just an idea.
But a list you live by? That’s a declaration.
