I have four kids, so I hear the words, "It's too hard" a lot. Often enough that there's this tiny little muscle under my left eye that goes twoink every time I do. Some days? That muscle does the cha-cha on my face.
But as often as my kids say it, I say this in response:
"Just because it's hard doesn't mean you can't do it."
Lately, I've been trying to take my own advice. One of the hardest things for me to do? LIVE. Like for real, step outside my own head, do things in the physical world kind of living. The inside of my head? It's not exactly a nice place to live. It's noisy, and the decor is ALL OVER THE PLACE, and whenever something lovely happens, my anxiety shouts it down like a grumpy old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn.
I want out. But even though I built my own mental prison, finding the escape hatch is no easy thing.
Reasons my brain has decided I deserve to be trapped:
- I wear pajamas too much.
- I'd rather order pizza every day than cook.
- I rock at loving people but I suck at doing anything about it.
- I'm human instead of perfect.
- My house is messy.
- I lose my temper too much.
- Etc . . .
After a great deal of thought, here's why I think I deserve to be happy (and this totally applies to you too):
- I'm a person.