“Would you like another glass?”

I snap back into reality and find the bartender staring at me, drenched in candlelight.

“Oh hi. Yes, please.” I was lost in thought walking down memory lane again. I lose myself in my daydreams a lot, especially after a glass of wine or two.

At that moment, I was visiting a memory from summer of 1999 in Branson, Missouri. It’s a humid heat this evening. Twilight hour. The fireflies by the pool are glistening their hues of green and yellow right above the water. My cousins, aunts and uncles — even my granny Franny are all here. A conga line is forming around the pool while a random man we invited into our pool party is playing an acoustic version of Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville.” Have to admit, he’s pretty good.

I bid farewell to my daydream for the night, take a quick gulp of the pricey Sauvignon Blanc and bounce—my tab is getting expensive, that means it’s time to grab an Uber home.

It was on this night that I began truly reflecting and realizing a few things about the path to happiness. What did it look like for me? And was it different for everyone else? This night was two years ago, and since then all my thoughts have only become clearer and clearer — not without some speed bumps along the way of course.

See my wine-inspired Instagram post here from that night.

At 27 years old, I’ve spent the past few years doing some serious soul-searching. I mean drank a lot of wine on a Sunday, cried behind a dumpster, broke down in the frozen foods section of Trader Joes type of soul-searching. And it has finally brought me to acceptance, which in turn has brought me to this strange yet wondrous place of happiness.

I finally submerged myself into the heavy feeling of uncertainty that I had been avoiding for quite some time.

My father described me once as the kind of person who, “feels things deeply.” And as I’ve grown older, I now recognize it as some kind of empathetic thing—not sure what it entirely is—but I think I’m sensitive, in the best sense of the word. I feel everything around me, all the time. I can feel the sadness from a stranger next to me in the check out line, I hate the way the sun shines at 3 in the afternoon and my senses go crazy when I feel someone isn’t being honest with me. It is a superpower that allows me to feel the energies both good and bad of others around me. But growing up with deep, sensitive feelings proved to be a rough go.

But how did I end up here? A 25 year old waiting for an Uber alone on a Saturday night—in this strange blissed out state of mind—I knew it wasn’t the wine talking. To understand the now, I knew I had to go back to the beginning — 2007 to be exact.

This was the year I was cut from my high school dance team, after making it a year prior. Losing my spot on broke my heart in a way I had not yet experience before. I dove into the depths of my mind, over-analyzing it all. Could my leaps have been higher? Was I off a count? I didn’t have the best high kick, this I knew but was that really a reason to end it all? After some time, our coach called me to have a meeting with me since I was taking it all pretty hard. It was in this meeting they let me know I was 1 point away from making the team, but that I shouldn’t let this hang over me too long—I always had next year. In my stubborn mind, I didn’t want it anymore at all. None of it.

I overlooked the fact that I still had my strong legs that could carry me through the air and get me through a 5 mile jog. I overlooked that there truly was always next year to try out again! One NO is not the final answer, as long as you refuse for it to be. Which I did.

Looking back when I was so distressed over this, I failed to see how life was indeed still so good. In my mind, I had been cut and that meant I was a failure — no other achievement mattered if I didn’t have a spot on that team. I remember growing up and watching my sister perform on that same squad, I’d tell myself one day I’d make it too! I’d wear that navy leotard with sparkly gold sequins. And it was mine, for a fleeting moment.

This instance was my first taste of rejection, and the fear that it brought stayed with me into my twenties, to be frank I am still working through it. I even quit dance all together after high school. Instead of dealing with the pain, I simply cut if out of my life! The question of “What if?” rang much better in my mind than the dark feeling of regret. Oh just how wrong I was.

The next year I was a sophomore when someone went into my locker once and tore a collage I had spent a long time making to shreds. Then someone egged my house in broad daylight, and another continued to leave harassing voicemails on my phone for weeks. I wasn’t completely sure if this was all connected and accomplished by the same person or several — although I have my theories of who it was — none of this matters anymore. Again, never did I try to work through the feelings of anger I felt after these experiences. Instead, I painted myself as this sad lonely victim who didn’t deserve a good darn thing in this world.

Dramatic, party of one!

See a pattern emerging? Lots of negativity. Lots of fixation on myself. Truth be told, yes, some things weren’t fun to go through, but I had a wonderful childhood, a thoughtful family that cared about me and the fluffiest dog at home. This wasn’t the time at 17 years old to lie down and accept defeat just because a few things refused to go my way.

And then, after some years, it was like magic. When I graduated college, dealt with my first real heart break and moved to a new city that I came to this startling conclusion: I was the sole reason I wasn’t happy. It wasn’t losing a spot on dance team, feeling like an outcast in high school or any other outside circumstance that led to my own dismay.

It was the fact that I focused way too much on myself and my shortcomings—as if every single time I failed defined who I was and what I would become. It was because I refused to work through the pain or anger that I never got to break on through to that sparkling concept we refer to as happiness.

Suddenly, every piece of advice my father gave me during our evening summer car rides about accepting that shit happens and to be happy in the now finally came to fruition.

You heard me dad, you were right, I was so catastrophically wrong.

Finally after high school and college, all this pent up negative energy was begging to be set free. Just bursting at the seams of my mind to flee! I was finally accepting—finally healing. Something I’m sure you’ve heard before, but I will say again:

We are not defined by what happens to us, rather we are completely defined by how we decide to respond.

We get to choose how to carry the hard parts of life! We determine how we react in the face of rejection or a shitty circumstance! We have choices. We can either grow after allowing ourselves to feel a bit of pain, ultimately becoming a stronger, wiser version of ourselves on the other side of crappy mountain. Or, we can give in and let ourselves drown in an anger-filled pity party serving only bad booze. Word of advice: while the latter is easier, long term it doesn’t work if you want to grow.

It took some time, and I had to really sit with myself, alone with my thoughts—they do say that acceptance is a small, quiet room after all.

I had to feel vulnerable and honest with myself—which is an uphill battle. Do you ever just tell yourself you’re fine just to silence it all? Like you KNOW you aren’t fine, but as long as you keep saying it, your mind tries to believe it. That’s all I did for so long. It was like putting a bandaid over a gushing gunshot wound. It ain’t pretty or constructive!

I slowly begin to see happiness resided in small everyday moments. In these moments, I felt all my intrusive thoughts begin to leave.

Like realizing I was happiest on Friday nights by cozying up with a Dominos pepperoni pizza to watch the classic horror flick, Nosferatu. I always felt odd wanting to spend time alone, diving into an endless binge of 1940’s-era films in secret when all my friends wanted to go out. They all just knew I’d fall off the face of the earth and that i’d reappear when I felt recharged and ready to socialize. But now, I was finally embracing who I was, without hiding it anymore. I knew Jack and Sarah were hitting up all the hottest Dallas bars that night but that didn’t mean I had to be.

I found happiness lives in my memories of Branson as a child, running around in my hot pink sparkly swimsuit with sky high pigtails. Remember that daydream at the beginning? The air was thick and steamy, but I was wrapped up in the sheer joy I felt from the family and good energy all around me. Some of them since then have passed, but it is here I am able to visit them again.

We are the sole owners to our own happiness — no external forces can take it away, or give it to us either.

I learned happiness resided in my dad’s genuine smile when he got to hold his granddaughter for the first time this year. It’s in the quiet dinner my roommate and I had for New Years Eve, but then we added a splash of champagne to the mix and threw our own party. It’s in the way my mom hugs me after a long trip from Kansas to Texas.

And to acknowledge the past—something I tried to escape from for so long—is to accept the past. And by accepting, happiness is right there holding out her hand thinking, “Thank GOD!”

That person or persons in high school, remember? I suddenly began to feel really bad for whoever he or she was. They must’ve been in a lot of pain to exert so much negative energy towards another human. Ultimately, what I took from this situation is that what they did, spoke more about them and their character, than it ever did about me. None of this was ever about me.

We are not products of our past, rather we are how we overcome it all.

I snapped back to reality. My Uber is 5 now minutes away and these 4-inch heels are not comforting on the cobblestone, so I wobble over and sit by the glowing fountain. The band inside is softly playing Earth, Wind & Fire’s Let’s Groove, when it hits me, “I should’ve just let all this go years ago!” Was this a pivotal moment of growth for me? Or was it just because my prefrontal cortex had finally fully developed? Maybe it was the wine! Let’s go with all the above.

Acceptance is the key to unearthing happiness.

Accepting rejection. Accepting that some people may just never like me. Accepting the past and the difficult things that happened that led me to who I am today. Accepting that life is still good and that there is always hope out there no matter how stormy it may feel. Hard times come, but they never last.

I saw that happiness has been here all along. I just have been really crappy towards accepting her in my life. In the thick of all the chaos, sorrow and change, she has been taping me on my shoulder whispering, "Excuse me, please just look around for one second. I am here." 

I’ve been preaching about letting it all go, and to be happy but I would be remiss if I didn’t leave you without also saying this:

It is more than okay to feel bad, sad and to experience anger pulsing through your veins. However, don’t allow yourself to unpack and live there.

Life in your roaring twenties can be so utterly confusing, am I right? I’m still learning my way through all of this, as I’m sure you are too even at 16, 35 or 50. None of us have this figured out, but maybe that’s what makes life so sweet. Life will always come with difficult seasons, but happiness is never too far away. Take a moment to look around if you feel you’ve lost her, sometimes she’s just hiding behind the corner.