“I’d rather be purposeful over being happy.”

(quote is from this post)

Because you wanna know my dirtiest, most shameful secret? It’s that I actually am quite a happy person. 

I know. Gag me with a telephone pole. 

But it’s true. I’ve been in some devastating situations in my life and even when I felt like I was on fire, I still found a way to feel happiness on a daily basis. And it wasn’t a struggle, either. 

I’m not suggesting that anyone else needs to be like me or that it’s even fathomable for everyone to be like me. It’s just my truth. And happiness, after a while, gets old. 

Or at least, it became not enough for me. I know, again, what a bratty thing to say. But it was true: just achieving happiness was no longer enough for me as a goal, because I had already done that. Or I do that, I should say, because happiness isn’t a constant, just like all emotions. I find happiness on a regular basis, so it’s not really something for me to strive for at this point. 

But you know what I absolutely can and do strive for, and in doing so, uncover so many layers to myself that I never thought could exist? Purpose. And not in the abstract sense of the word, either. I literally want to be of purpose. I would like to be useful. I want to be put to work, in a way that serves anything other than me and my desires.

Perhaps this is a privileged thing to say, but the likelihood of me getting whatever I desire is extremely high, 90% of the time. And I guess I could have settled for enough in that instance and enjoyed a life of relative ease. But for me, purpose was a more thrilling pursuit. And it remains that way even now. I find myself through being of service. I have found where my boundaries are in that regard, too, by positioning myself to be of service to certain people a little too much in the past. But ultimately, I would so much rather be purposeful over happy. The happiness will come and go, as all things do.