Unanswered Questions

I was asked to share my thoughts today in church during an Elder’s Quorum lesson about “where our choices lead.” At first, I didn’t know what to say. This is actually a very difficult question to answer for someone like me. As a gay and active member of the Church, I am constantly considering this question because I am straddling two paths – both of which would lead me to very different destinations. If I were to embrace a completely homosexual lifestyle, I would give up many of the blessings I enjoy by being an active member of the church. On the other hand, by embracing the standards of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I miss out on the possibility of a romantic/intimate companionship that all human beings need. I can’t have both.

But this post isn’t about the conflict I feel, living between two worlds. This post is not about justice, equality, or fairness – religious or otherwise. This post isn’t even about me asking “why.” I could delve into a myriad of questions I’ve had over the course of my life, not the least of which is, why have I been burdened with being gay in a hetero-family-oriented church? No, this post isn’t about all of that. This post is about living with unanswered questions.

I won’t go into detail about what I shared with the brothers in the Elders’ Quorum lesson today, mostly because I’m pretty sure I was bawling like a baby through all of it, even though it only lasted about 5 minutes. But, I do want to share one thing I said, which is the foundation of what I want to share in this post. Regarding my circumstances, as stated above, I shared this, “The Lord knows me. He knows this is hard for me. But I know there is a reason to have faith; even if I don’t know the reason yet – I know there is one.”

Essentially, I am choosing to live a faith-centered, abstinent lifestyle, without really knowing why. I have no proof that my faith will be rewarded. I have no proof that I’m making the right choice. But I am making that choice. I am choosing to abstain from a fully gay lifestyle, in order to remain a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in good standing. (I know many people in my situation have opted to leave the church and I fully support them in their decision – we all have a different path and we all deserve to be loved and accepted for who we are regardless of the path we choose.)

I guess that’s what I think faith is – moving forward when we don’t yet have all the answers. Which is, as I’ve come to realize, unbelievably ironic for me. You see, I seem to have a great deal of faith when it comes to religious/spiritual matters. But I have recently come to know that I don’t seem to have much faith anywhere else in my life.

When I look in the mirror, I hate what I see. When I look in the mirror, I see how fat I am and I hate it. I hate how it looks, I hate how it feels and I hate the burden that it creates in my life on every level – physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. I hate that I can’t physically do things I want to do; I hate that I can’t wear clothes I want to wear; I hate how self-conscious I am and every time I go out in public, I worry that people are going to laugh at me, make fun of me, or look down on me. I worry that they will think about me the way I think about myself – weak, lazy, ugly, and stupid.

I have been on a multi-year journey to fix this – to lose weight, to feel better about myself and my life. I’ve had some successes, but many, many failures and every failure gets harder and harder to get back up from. The problem, if I can oversimplify, isn’t about knowledge or opportunity – I’ve had an abundance of both. The problem is that I tried to move forward without faith. Maybe it seems ridiculous to you, but I think it takes faith to change nutrition and exercise habits. Every time I started a new diet, or a new exercise program, or hired a new trainer, I struggled to put faith into the process or the person who was coaching me. I struggled with cutting things out of my diet, restricting calories, trying new exercises, needing to modify exercises to my ability level and so on, because I didn’t really know if it was going to work or not. The outcome of changing lifestyle habits was my unanswered question – was this really going to work for me this time?

Paradoxically, there were times when I did put my faith in the process and several times it did pay off – it paid off in increased strength, flexibility, weightloss, increased energy, and so on. But then I had a set-back. Several circumstances made me question my faith in the process, so much so, that I gave up on it. I gave up on eating right; I gave up on exercise. And it took its toll. I lost the energy I had gained. I gained back the weight I had lost. I lost strength, flexibility; and probably the worst part – I lost believing in myself.

As I’ve contemplated the things I’ve lost and as I’ve pondered on the seemingly inexhaustible supply of self-loathing I experience on a daily basis, and especially in light of what I was reminded of in church today – I realize that the one  thing I’ve never had any faith in – is me. When I had faith in the process of weightloss, it worked, I did lose weight, and it felt great. But I didn’t believe that I was worth it. I didn’t have faith that I could sustain the progress I had made because I didn’t have faith in myself. And I inevitably gave up on the process of weightloss.

I have spent thousands of hours, years even, money, tears, and whatever energy I could muster to try to understand why I am the way I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bagging on therapy – I love therapy and I’m a huge advocate for it. But after so much time and energy trying to understand why, I think I’m at a place where I realize that some questions just aren’t going to be answered. I don’t know why my first, visceral reaction is to hate myself; I don’t know why I have an aversion to doing anything “hard,” or that will make me look stupid; I don’t know why a good body and self-confidence come so easily to others and not to me. I don’t know why I have to fight my own brain every single day just to function in this world, let alone improve myself. And maybe I won’t ever know. Maybe that’s what faith is – to not know, but to move forward anyway. Maybe what I have needed, more than “answers” is just to have faith that I am worth it; that I can do it; that regardless of how successful I am (I really want to lose that “last” 100 pounds!!), that I’ll be better off for even trying.

Going back to a point I wanted to make – it seems strange that I have no problem having faith in an omniscient/omnipotent being that I can’t see, hear, smell, or touch and yet I can’t have faith in the very physical, tangible experience of being me. I can’t help but ask myself, “what would having faith in myself look like?”

I literally just spent the last 10 minutes looking off into space because I don’t know how to answer that question…

I guess it would mean pursuing health and fitness without having to defend or justify myself. I would do it because it would make me happy. I think it would mean being willing to make sacrifices of junk food/binge eating because I know those things don’t really make me happy long-term. I think it would mean being willing to accept all the bad things that come with life – being willing to be in pain, to be uncomfortable, to sacrifice or go without something I may want in the moment; and knowing that life doesn’t present hardships as a punishment – it’s just a part of life and it’s okay. I think it would mean accepting that some things are just hard, and that it doesn’t mean it’s wrong, or that I’ve done something wrong.

It has been difficult to face hard things because I haven’t felt that I was worth it. I also just realized that when something gets hard, I immediately react with feelings of indignation. When I face something hard, I hear my inner voice saying, “this isn’t fair…” And you know what? It isn’t. It isn’t fair that I have to work so hard to lose weight when it comes so easily to other men. It isn’t fair that I have to sacrifice enjoyable food when other men can eat whatever they want and not gain weight. It isn’t fair that I’ve been through so much trauma, only to have to work even harder at changing my thoughts/beliefs as a result. It isn’t fair that I have to deal with the fallout of things that happened to me, that I didn’t cause, that I didn’t want and that I never would have chosen. It isn’t fair that I have to suffer the consequences of other people’s bad choices/behavior. Yes, I know that makes me sound like a brat – and maybe that’s all I’ve ever been. But I’ve avoided and I’ve retreated and I’ve hid myself away because I just can’t face dealing with hard things when it wasn’t my fault to begin with. Well that also sounds like a victim talking…

Okay, so it isn’t fair. I am absolutely, 100% right – it’s not fair.

Now what?

Where does “it’s not fair” actually get me? Nowhere!!

Focusing on “it’s not fair” just leaves me stuck. I don’t have the answer, but maybe, just maybe, one way to get past “it’s not fair” is to realize that what it is, is an opportunity.

No, I didn’t want to be molested. And it isn’t fair. But it is an opportunity to forgive. No, I didn’t want to be morbidly obese. And it isn’t fair. But it is an opportunity to learn to appreciate the body God has given me. No, I didn’t want to live my life hating myself because other people hurt me. And it isn’t fair. But it is an opportunity to triumph in the face of adversity.

Maybe what “isn’t fair” is also an opportunity for faith. I think having faith in myself is trusting that what I want is okay to want; that I am worth achieving and maintaining improved health and fitness; that it’s okay that the process will be hard at times, but that the outcome will be worth it.

I think having faith in myself will mean doing the hardest thing possible: accept myself for who I am, the way I am, fat and all.

I have gotten used to beating myself up and I have gotten used to misery. I think it will be just as hard to admit that I’m okay, as it will be to accept that I’m okay. I have never allowed myself to be truly happy. I thought I needed to change, to achieve an ideal body/success, in order to matter, in order to be happy. So I’ve never allowed myself to really be happy. I was afraid that if I was happy then something bad would happen to “balance it out.” I was afraid that being happy meant I was being selfish. I was afraid that being happy meant taking happiness away from others, because there’s only so much to go around. I was afraid that being happy meant that I couldn’t change my circumstances, that I had to give up my dreams of improving myself physically or otherwise, because if I’m happy, then what else do I need?

It’s just occurred to me that I don’t think of happiness as an outcome of choices I make (i.e., a side effect); I think of happiness as THE destination – the whole end goal. Once you’re happy, that’s it – you’ve made it. You’re happy and there’s nothing else to want or do because you don’t need anything because you’re happy.

But what if happiness is NOT a final destination? What if happiness is NOT an end, in and of itself?

What if happiness is like a jacket. You aren’t meant to wear jackets all the time, but for some kinds of weather it’s the perfect comfort. In that way, maybe fulfillment doesn’t come FROM simply “being happy,” but maybe fulfillment comes from growth and achievement, and happiness just sometimes comes along for the ride…?

Well this post just kind of went everywhere, didn’t it? Sorry if it’s been all over the place. I didn’t realize until I started typing this that the concept of happiness was such a contributing factor to my lack of self-worth.

Ultimately, I don’t know what will come from all of the realizations I’ve had today. I still have so many unanswered questions. But I suppose that was really the whole point of this post in the first place: Faith is just living life with unanswered questions – and unanswered questions are no reason to stop living.

For my fellow Cavemen...

This weekend was my 20-year High School Reunion. Wow! I can’t believe I just typed that sentence! How did 20 years go by so quickly?! I attended American Fork High School, home of the Cavemen!

I didn’t go to my 5-year reunion. Nothing in my life had changed and I felt like I had nothing to show for myself. “Also,” I told myself, “I pretty much keep in touch with the people I’m closest to...” Which didn’t really last too long because, hi, people get married and then they evaporate.

I actually bought a ticket to my 10-year reunion, but then chickened out at the last minute and didn’t go. It had been 10 years and I STILL had nothing to show for my life. I hadn’t gotten married or had children. I was still fat and even uglier, because now my hair was falling out. Sure, I had graduated with a Bachelor’s degree and was working in Human Resources, but was that impressive? Not nearly enough to make up for my pathetic past. Or perhaps, more accurately, to “replace” how everyone might see me. In my mind everyone else was wildly successful – you know, married with 5 kids, millionaires running their own companies and jetting across the globe on fabulous vacations, etc. But I was still just me. Just fat, depressed, lonely, struggling, unimpressive – me. I had pretty much decided that “reunion’s” weren’t for me and I wasn’t ever going to another one…

But a lot can change in 10 years!! So what changed my mind? A lot of things, I guess. Maybe a little bit of curiosity to see how much other people have aged. Maybe curious to see people that I had good memories of, but hadn’t kept in touch with. But also a recognition that, even though my life hasn’t turned out the way I had planned – or even hoped – I’m pretty sure no one else’s life has turned out the way they planned either. Sure, I’m still fat and bald; still not married; no kids to speak of; I haven’t really done anything impressive with my life, or earned any great accolades; but I have changed. I’m not who I was in High School and thank God for that!!

High School was really difficult for me – as I know it was for many people. I was unbelievably self-conscious. Internally, I withered when anyone looked at me because I knew they were looking at how fat and ugly I was. All I ever wanted to do was blend in – disappear, so to speak. Unfortunately, I had a body that wouldn’t let me “blend in.” Every day I woke up to a world that I didn’t “fit” into. Literally.

Of course I was made fun of; Of course I was ostracized and laughed at. I even had to endure teasing from teachers… I hated myself. I had succumbed to multiple addictions at that point in my life and I felt like the worst piece of scum that had ever been created. In fact, I felt like I was a mistake. And I wanted it all to end – frequently. I never actually had the balls to carry out any of my plans to commit suicide, but I planned how I would die – a lot.

Fast forward to the day of my reunion. There was a 5k in the morning and some family activities. I knew I could walk the 5k, so I decided to go. It wasn’t until I was there that I realized how hard it was going to be to recognize people!! So glad we had name tags!! :) But I saw several people I knew and it was so much fun to catch up and see what people were doing and to see where life had taken them. What was the most ironic for me, was to hear people say, “I remember that you were always so happy and always had a smile on your face.” Technically, they weren’t wrong. I DID always have a smile on my face, because I was lying to everyone. I wanted to die inside, but I couldn’t let anyone see that. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. Or worse, let people catch on that I wasn’t okay, and risk finding that they really didn’t care… So I hid myself behind a mask of smiles and happiness. It wasn’t real, but I guess it was pretty convincing. I guess I was more worn out from the 5k than I realized, because when I got home I slept for a couple of hours. 

Later, I got ready and headed out for the evening portion of the reunion when I had a surreal experience about 5 minutes from my house. I was driving on the Van Winkle Expressway and looking at the mountains when I suddenly had this intense realization that I was okay. That might sound anti-climactic, but I will never be able to capture in words how deep that realization came to me. “I am okay.” I also can’t convey how profound it is for someone who spent their entire life feeling like a mistake, to look within their own soul and find contentment. I was so overwhelmed I started crying. I was overcome with gratitude.

“How did I get here? How did I get to being okay, when for so long I wasn’t? And I genuinely believed that I never would be.” I thought about all of the terrible things I’ve experienced in my life – the sexual and emotional abuse, the addictions, the depression/anxiety, the self-hatred, etc. And I recalled an experience where the Spirit told me that Heavenly Father would let me make my own decisions (e.g., with regards to suicide), but that He wasn’t going to let me go without a fight. And He kept His promise. The fact that I was there, driving to my 20-year High School reunion, when I almost didn’t survive high school, was proof of that.

A major part of that has been just in the last year. I hired a personal trainer and while I’m nowhere close to my physical goals, the change it has made on my mind and outlook on life is immense. Every effort to improve myself physically has challenged every aspect of my being – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. Every effort to improve myself physically has brought untold trials and challenges, but it has also brought immeasurable success. Ten months ago I was 300lbs and couldn’t even deadlift an unloaded bar; today I weigh 295lbs, but can deadlift 300lbs. I can’t even begin to tell you what it means to be able to deadlift more than my own bodyweight!! No, I haven’t lost nearly as much weight (fat!) as I would like, but I am stronger than I used to be; I have changed.

I used to wake up with fear and dread, unable to bear the uncertainty of what horrors each new day would bring. But now, I wake up content; knowing that no matter what happens, I can handle it; and if I can’t, I have a Savior I can call on to help me, which means, even if I can’t handle it, I can still get through it. I know that I am worth being helped. I know that I am capable of meeting challenges, because I’m not alone. I know that God makes up the difference WHILE I’m giving it my all, not ‘after’. I know He loves me. I know I’m important to Him. I know that I’m okay.

Yes, I still have addictions I’m grappling with. I have so much to repent of, and to overcome. I am nowhere near perfect, nor do I pretend to be. I still have days where I’m lonely and depressed and want to give up. But those days come much less often than they used to. I still have a lot that I could beat myself up for (fat, ugly, not married, no kids, etc.), but I’ve done that my whole life, and what has it gotten me? Misery. So I’m trying to be nice to myself; I’m trying to be a friend to myself. I’m trying to improve myself and take care of myself – and be okay with that.

The result is that I am capable of seeing all of me – the good and the bad – and being okay with it. I feel like I am now able to live life with nothing to “prove.” I no longer feel the need to make excuses for all that I haven’t done, i.e., all that I haven’t measured up to (marriage/family/weightloss, etc). I’m working on the things that I need to change and for the first time in my life, I know that I’m okay WHILE I’m working on those things and not “I’ll be okay WHEN I have those things.”

Maybe this is the real reason I needed this 20-year reunion. Maybe I just needed to be reminded of how much has changed for the better and how all of those difficult, painful, miserable experiences, were a part of my journey for a reason. And I needed to be reminded that there was also a lot of happiness. While I may not have been close to very many people in high school, and while many people did make fun of me, there were so many more who were friendly and kind. Those are the people I wanted to see -  those whom I hadn’t truly appreciated for their kindness. (Hell, those who even just tolerated me meant something to me!)

Yeah, there is a part of me that wishes I had appreciated them more. There is a part of me that wishes I had been a better friend to so many others. But the past is to be learned from, not mourned. I thought going to my reunion would make me nostalgic, but it had the opposite effect – it made me appreciative of where I am and of how much courage, strength and divine help it’s taken me to get here. And maybe for the first time in my life, I’m finally genuinely living the way people remember me – smiling and happy. 

Thank you to all the “Cavemen” who were a part of my journey – I needed you! (And yes, I’ll always fight for AF High!!)

Thou shalt be unhappy...

I feel like I have to prove to the world that I’m worthless. It’s like, that’s how I see myself and nobody else seems to agree; no one else seems to be buying into that idea. Which I really don’t get, because for about seven years, I was made fun of everyday. I’m not exaggerating. I was literally made fun of every single day from, like, 4^th grade until I was a junior in High School. Life was hell. Every day I woke up with a knot in my stomach wondering “where it was going to come from today,” or “who’s going to be making fun of me today?” or “how many people are going to laugh when I break another chair again…?” The message of all the insults, ridicule and bullying was loud and clear – “Micah, you don’t fit in here; you don’t fit in anywhere. You’re fat and disgusting and no one wants anything to do with you. We’d all be better off if we didn’t have to look at you.” And I accepted that. They were right. I WAS fat and disgusting. I knew that. I could see it myself when I looked in the mirror. I agreed with them.

Then, little by little, during my junior year of high school, there were less and less insults. Fewer and fewer people seemed to be interested in teasing me. Maybe they were just bored with it. Or maybe they were “growing up.” The strange thing is, while the insults stopped, the message that I wasn’t acceptable didn’t. Okay, so people were no longer making fun of me outright, but there seemed to be a whole new method of reminding me that I wasn’t worth much. It was typified in conversations that I overheard from girls, mostly. They frequently talked about boys they liked and it was always the thin, athletic, good-looking guys they were fawning over. Okay, message received – girls aren’t into fat guys, got it. Being avoided and excluded can be just as isolating and hurtful as being pointed at and laughed at.

I’m pretty sure part of me is writing this so people will feel sorry for me, which has been my “go to” coping mechanism for quite some time. It’s why/how I became addicted to self-pity. It felt great to say, “See? I’m the victim. I was innocent and the ‘world’ did this to me – so everyone should feel sorry for me and even admire me for what I’ve been through,” as if my suffering has been a nobly endured self-sacrifice. What a load of crap! Basically it was me saying, I was hurt, therefore, I’m not responsible for anything that happens in my life.

But then who’s to blame for all this hurt? Who’s to blame for everything going wrong? Paradoxically - Me. It has to be my fault, because I’m the only one that I can truly punish. I can’t punish my parents. I can’t punish my friends. I can’t punish Heavenly Father. But me? “Me” I can punish. “Me” I can blame. After all, I never would have been made fun of if I had been thin. I would have been one of the guys the girls wanted to be with if I had been athletic and attractive. So it WAS my fault. I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t measure up and I had no one to blame for that but me. “Oh, but you have such a great personality,” people have said. Uh… yeah, sure, whatever. Too bad a good personality wasn’t enough to be acceptable, otherwise why would I have been teased so mercilessly? Clearly, appearances are much more important than people are willing to admit.

So… I learned to be a worthless victim, which helped me to survive, but it also made me miserable. It also led me to establish a pattern of reacting to everything in life with a negative mindset. Life is a series of obstacles that are too hard for me. My focus is always on what I can’t do or why I can’t do it – i.e., making excuses (to stay safe). You see, I learned in church that if something was right, then Heavenly Father would help you by lifting the burden and making it light, i.e., making it easy. So if something in my life was too hard, it meant I was doing something wrong, because I wasn’t receiving help. Or, for whatever reason, I wasn’t deserving of help. And the “I’m worthless…” cycle continued. Made all the more painful at the thought that I have a loving Father in Heaven who doesn’t think I’m worth enough to help.

Of course, nobody likes a wet blanket, so I learned pretty quick to “have the appearance” that everything is okay and not to let anyone know that I’m really suffering. So I became a pretty good liar, for the most part. Fast forward to today when I’ve played my part so well that I’ve completely snowed everyone into thinking that I’m confident and capable.  So much so that people actually treat me that way and it’s just weird. People actually treat me like I’m capable and are even complementary at times. What?!? When did this happen? Don’t we still live in a world where I’m the fat loser that everyone hates and is disgusted by? How is it that the same world that beat me down as a little kid, grew up and now treats me with respect? And what, I’m supposed to just change all that overnight? No way! They hurt me. They can’t just change their minds and say, “oh, so now we think you are pretty awesome and we want you to believe in yourself.” What?!? Excuse me?!? You can’t just change your mind like that. If you’re gonna hate me, then hate me and keep hating me, but don’t hate me for a little bit, then decide that you want to change your mind and start treating me like I’m someone deserving of respect. It’s like the worst joke you can play on someone – make them believe they are one thing, then once they have fully embraced that, make a complete reversal and tell them they’re something else.

There are so many hard things about being in this situation, but one of, if not, THE hardest thing to deal with is what’s going on inside of me. There’s that guy inside of me asking, “okay, so the world is giving you mixed signals – but what do YOU want to believe? Who do YOU want to be?” And right now, I don’t know. I’m struggling to know how to answer those questions. I’ve relied on outside opinions to tell me who I am for so long that I’ve lost the ability to choose that for myself. Or maybe it’s in there somewhere, but just atrophied from lack of use.

I’ve believed for so long that I was meant to be unhappy, as if it were an unspoken commandment meant only for people like me – “…but thou? Thou shalt be unhappy.” “Men are that they might have joy… unless you’re fat, then all bets are off!”

The other thing that’s hard is that I played the victim in order to avoid responsibility, when in reality, I am the only one who can be responsible for me, including being responsible for what I believe. Talk about a cruel irony! Being fat wasn’t/isn’t the problem. Being made fun of wasn’t the problem. Being told I was “worthless” wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I chose to believe it. It was MY choice. No one forced me to internalize that belief. When someone made fun of me, I could just as easily have said, “you’re wrong.” But I didn’t. I was/am far too sensitive. I want people to be happy and I’m willing to “be wrong” if it means making someone else happy to be right. But discounting myself has a cost and I’ve been paying that price my whole life.

I was so busy looking for someone else to tell me that I was okay, that I never learned how to tell myself that I’m okay. And no, Heavenly Father doesn’t help by making things easy, but He does help. And He isn’t up there, sitting His throne, waiting for me to mess up so that he can either punish me or intervene, He’s right here with me, encouraging me and doing all He can, in spite of the limitations I put on Him, to help me. Men ARE that they might have joy, but they also have to have bad days. I don’t think that scripture meant that we should only be feeling joy and if we don’t, then we’re doing something wrong. I think it just means that joy is a worthwhile endeavor – that it’s okay to live in such a way that produces joy. This world was created to hold all the good AND the bad and it was a part of the plan to experience both. Things aren’t hard for me because I’m worthless and undeserving, things are hard because I’m human and mortal. Things aren’t hard because I made some horrible mistake by being born fallible; they are hard because that’s just how it was designed. Just because something is hard, doesn’t mean I’ve done something wrong. And besides, from the very beginning, help was there – promised even.

And there’s no denying that I’ve been helped. There’s no denying that I’m still here. After all the crap I’ve been through and all the times I contemplated being done with this world and my miserable existence, I’m still here. (And trust me when I say that the teasing was a walk in the park compared to some other things I’ve been through, it’s just that the other things are far too personal to share at this point!) I’m learning, I’m changing, I'm messing up sometimes and getting things right sometimes, I have good days and bad days, and so on and so forth, and isn't that what this life is really all about?

Happiness

It's been a little over a month since I've been participating in the Precision Nutrition Lean Eating program. It's been an interesting month. I signed up for the program to get some help losing weight (yay! I can finally admit it now!!), but already, what I've gotten is so much more.

The program has really challenged me to look at my habits/lifestyle and question it. Is it healthy? Yes or no. If not, why not and what can I do to change it? It's not just dealing with mechanics of losing weight, it's dealing with me - as a person - and getting (cutting!) to the core of what I believe and why I do what I do. It's not psychotherapy by any means, but some of the insights I've gained have felt like coming out of an intense therapy session. I like that it's focus is on behaviors, as well. Maybe you can't change someone's attitudes, but you can ask them to behave differently and see what happens. That's what this program does.

I have a coach I can contact if I'm having doubts, concerns, or questions, or just not sure how to complete assignments, etc. And he's been really great at getting to the core of what my concerns are and knowing what to suggest to help me along. One (of the many) things he's done for me is to help me understand the nature of happiness a little better. I've often been annoyed stymied by people who say, "happiness is a choice, if you want to be happy, just choose to be happy." Hmmm.... Okay, well, it's not bad advice, nor do I think it's wrong, but for me the question is, if it's just that easy, wouldn't I have done that by now?

My coach had this to say: "Happiness is a tricky one. It's not that we can just sit in a chair, want to become happy, and be happy. Happiness is a side effect that comes and goes in life. It's not something that can be pursued, rather, it ensues based on how we are living."

Related to that, he said that happiness can increase... "When you live according to what you value. If you value your body and health, and you exhibit behaviors that follow suit, that can build self-worth [happiness]."

I think I wasted a lot of time pursuing happiness instead of pursuing a life that generates happiness. I think I just had the wrong priorities because I had the wrong idea about what would bring me happiness. Consequently, true happines has eluded me for most of my life. I still have a way to go on changing my habits and living according to what I value, but at least I feel that I'm on the right track now and that happiness is attainable.