Tag Archives: happiness

Finally, I’m Me

ARTICLES, ,

For years, I felt like I was a supporting character in someone else’s story. My life was shaped by what others wanted me to be—fitting into roles, fulfilling expectations, and adapting to standards that were never mine to begin with. But somewhere along the way, I began to ask myself: What about me? What do I want? Who am I when I’m not trying to please everyone else?

It wasn’t a revelation that came all at once. It was a quiet, gradual process—a patchwork of moments where I chose to reclaim a little more of myself. A day when I decided that jogging pants and no makeup were enough to step out into the world. An afternoon spent designing my home, letting my favorite colors and retro-modern style take center stage. A realization that I didn’t need validation from a new bag, a perfect Instagram photo, or anyone’s approval.

This journey wasn’t just about breaking free from what others expected. It was about finding joy in simplicity and discovering that the small, everyday things—like a favorite series on Monday nights or the satisfaction of knowing I did well at work—were enough to make me feel whole.

The Process of Becoming Me  

It started with boundaries. I began to say no to things that didn’t align with my values or made me feel small. Relationships that drained me or took away my sense of self had to go. Instead, I focused on the things that felt authentic—my creativity, my passions, and the sanctuary of my home.

I let go of the need for external validation. This wasn’t easy; for years, I had tied my happiness to what others thought of me. But slowly, I realized that validation from others is fleeting, while the validation I give myself lasts.

I embraced imperfection. Life isn’t about having it all figured out, and neither am I. Philosophers like Søren Kierkegaard remind us that “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.” Reflecting on my past helped me understand where I’d been, but it was the forward momentum—creating a life on my own terms—that brought me peace.

Reflections on Being Me  

Now, when I look around my life, I see me. My home reflects my personality—vibrant, unique, and full of life. My choices reflect my values—simplicity, independence, and authenticity. And most importantly, my heart reflects peace.

It isn’t always easy. Doubts creep in, as they always will, but they no longer define me. I’ve learned that being me isn’t about perfection; it’s about presence. It’s about showing up for myself, embracing the quiet joy of an unremarkable day, and knowing that who I am is enough.

In the words of Carl Jung, “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” And now, finally, I am.

The Art of Smelling Bad

ARTICLES,

Lately, I’ve been pouring my soul into my book, working so intensely that I completely lost track of time—and apparently, my hygiene routine. It wasn’t until I decided to take a day off from writing that I realized I hadn’t showered in three whole days.

I was sitting on the couch, absorbed in a series, when a distinct, unpleasant smell caught my attention. For a moment, I was confused, then horrified, and finally, amused. It hit me all at once: “Oh my god, Suzette, you stink!” I burst out laughing so loudly that I scared the cat and had tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t laughed like that in ages—not at a movie, not at a joke, but at myself. It was ridiculous and liberating all at once.

Still chuckling, I shuffled into the kitchen, completely unbothered by my state of aromatic disrepair. I’ve recently started dabbling in cooking—not out of necessity, but as a new hobby. My friend Nada, who’s witnessed my kitchen disasters firsthand, has made it very clear: “Suzette, I love you, but I will never, ever try your food.” She even went as far as calling my recipes “edible experiments.”

Today, I decided to live up to that reputation. I opened the fridge, grabbed anything I could find—flour, eggs, cocoa powder, maybe sugar (was that sugar?)—and announced with a flourish, “I will make the best cake in human history!” My voice echoed dramatically through the kitchen, and I immediately started laughing again. If anyone could see me at that moment, they’d probably think I’d lost my mind.

I mixed the ingredients with zero precision, tossed it all into a baking pan, and shoved it in the oven. While waiting for the “masterpiece” to bake, I leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. A thought crept in, quiet but powerful: “When was the last time I laughed like this? When was the last time I felt this light, this happy, just because of something I did for myself?”

For so long, my happiness had been tied to others—partners, friends, even strangers. I relied on their words, their actions, their approval to make me feel good. I chased moments where I felt validated by someone else, never realizing how much of my joy I had handed over to them. But today, standing in my kitchen, smelling awful and probably ruining a perfectly good cake, I felt something shift.

Memories came flooding back—those simple moments of happiness I used to feel without needing anyone else. The jolly, carefree joy of trying something new, making mistakes, laughing at myself. Somewhere along the way, that innocence had been buried under the weight of expectations, relationships, and the need to prove myself to others.

But here I was, rediscovering it. Laughing because I smelled bad. Laughing because I’d decided to bake what could very well turn out to be a catastrophe. Laughing because, for once, my joy wasn’t dependent on anyone else.

When the oven timer beeped, I pulled out the cake and looked at it. It was lopsided, cracked in the middle, and looked nothing like the glossy cakes on Instagram. I couldn’t help but grin. “A disaster,” I said to myself. “But it’s my disaster.” And that thought made me laugh all over again.

I plated a slice, took a bite, and immediately winced. Yep, disaster confirmed. But it didn’t matter. In that moment, I realized something profound: I was happy. Not because of how the cake turned out or how I smelled, but because I was learning to enjoy my own company.

Happiness is Within

Happiness doesn’t have to be big, perfect, or tied to anyone else. It can be found in the messy, silly, imperfect moments of life. Today, I learned to laugh at myself, embrace my flaws, and take joy in my ridiculousness. And honestly, that feels like the best cake I’ve ever made—disaster or not.