Hard Things

I have four kids, so I hear the words, "It's too hard" a lot. Often enough that there's this tiny little muscle under my left eye that goes twoink every time I do. Some days? That muscle does the cha-cha on my face.

But as often as my kids say it, I say this in response:

"Just because it's hard doesn't mean you can't do it."

Lately, I've been trying to take my own advice. One of the hardest things for me to do? LIVE. Like for real, step outside my own head, do things in the physical world kind of living. The inside of my head? It's not exactly a nice place to live. It's noisy, and the decor is ALL OVER THE PLACE, and whenever something lovely happens, my anxiety shouts it down like a grumpy old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn.

I want out. But even though I built my own mental prison, finding the escape hatch is no easy thing.

Reasons my brain has decided I deserve to be trapped:

1. I wear pajamas too much.
2. I'd rather order pizza every day than cook.
3. I rock at loving people but I suck at doing anything about it.
4. I'm human instead of perfect.
5. My house is messy.
6. I lose my temper too much.
7. Etc . . .

Not exactly crimes against humanity, are they? Do any of you do this too? Deny yourself happiness for tiny offenses like these? Do you have a list of "Ways I'm Not Measuring Up to Who I Could Be?" Are you punishing yourself for being a Work in Progress?

After a great deal of thought, here's why I think I deserve to be happy (and this totally applies to you too):

1. I'm a person.

And . . . that's it really. That's enough. I've never met a single person I would stamp with a "Doesn't Deserve A Single Iota of Happiness" stamp. I mean, I've led a pretty sheltered life, admittedly. I've never met a mass murderer, for instance (not that I know of, anyway). But I've decided that my list of "crimes" is pretty damn minor, and that since I'm okay with YOU being a Work in Progress, I should be okay with being one too.

So I'm making a new list. A "How to Be Happy" list, and I'm telling myself I deserve to step outside that noisy brain of mine and actively engage in my own life. My anxiety is a part of me. Always has been, and probably always will be. But I don't have to let it be my gatekeeper. I'm going to go play the piano now. Something that makes me happy, and that I haven't done in weeks. 

What's keeping you from your happy?