“I’m scared I’ll never be truly happy.”

You’ve had good moments. Good days.
Maybe even whole chapters that looked like happiness from the outside.

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But under it all, there’s a quiet doubt:
What if this is as good as it gets?
What if you’re just not wired for ease?
What if joy is always going to feel temporary, or earned, or conditional?

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That fear doesn’t come from nowhere.
It comes from a lifetime of managing, pleasing, and surviving.
From learning that rest is lazy, or joy is self-indulgent, or that your role is to hold everything together for everyone else.

And even when you do experience joy, it’s usually followed by guilt, suspicion, or the sense that it’s about to end.

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And here’s the hard part:

When you’re used to pressure, peace feels pointless.
When you’re used to crisis, joy feels fake.
You end up mistrusting the very thing you’ve been longing for.

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And so you overwork. You overthink.
Not because you love the grind, but because you don’t know who you are without it.

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Even happiness becomes something to manage:
Don’t get too excited.
Don’t relax too much.
Don’t tempt fate.

Because somewhere along the line, you learned that safety meant staying a little bit tense, just enough to be ready when the good thing ends.

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You might have been called a pessimist. But all it is is a familiar pattern.
That’s the residue of growing up with the idea that happiness is a reward, not a right.

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So now, even wanting it feels naive. Or dangerous.

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But here’s what most people don’t say out loud:
Happiness doesn’t land when everything’s perfect.
It shows up when you stop performing for a life you’re not even sure you chose.

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Try this:

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Instead of asking “How can I be happy?”, ask:
“Who taught me I needed permission to feel okay?”

“Who told me joy had to be justified?”

Then, just once today, refuse to explain yourself.
Laugh too loud. Rest without apology. Cancel something and don't feel guilty.

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And/or do one thing today that isn’t productive, impressive, or necessary—
But just makes you feel a little more like yourself.

That’s not indulgence. That’s repair because you’re allowed to feel good before everything is perfect.. 

 

 

If this spoke to something you’ve never been able to explain—good.
That’s where Renaissance of the Soul begins.
It’s not about chasing happiness. It’s about clearing the noise that told you it wasn’t yours to have.

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