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Spark of Light
Photo by Shannon Bright colors catch our attention—do we dare take the time to mindfully notice? Notice the way the lights intertwine, the lines as they burst outward from the screen, alive with motion and energy.
Happiness shows up in small and unexpected ways. Sometimes it’s quiet and subtle, and other times, it’s loud—vibrant—right in our faces.
When happiness finds you, I hope you take a moment to mindfully notice. Notice the way it washes over you. Notice the corners of your lips curl even if it’s slightly upward. Be brave enough to let down your guard and allow happiness in.
Trust me, I’ll practice doing the same.
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Getting to Know: Happiness
Happiness: A Fleeting Feeling or a Piece of the Puzzle?
Happiness is one of the most sought-after emotions, yet it remains one of the most misunderstood. Unlike fear, which keeps us safe, or sadness, which allows us to process loss, happiness doesn’t seem to have a survival function. It often feels fleeting, appearing in bursts—when we hear our favorite song, experience an exciting moment, or spend time in a place that feels magical.
Think about it—many of our most “happy” moments come from vacations, theme parks, concerts, or special events, places designed to pull us out of our daily routines. A trip to Disneyland, for example, is crafted to create a sense of magic, nostalgia, and joy. It’s an environment free from stressors like bills, deadlines, or the unpredictability of daily life. And yet, the moment we leave, reality settles back in. If happiness only exists in spaces detached from real life, then it can’t be the goal—it’s not sustainable.
What is Happiness?
Happiness is commonly defined as a state of pleasure, joy, or satisfaction. It can be triggered by external events, such as a fun trip, a delicious meal, or an accomplishment. However, happiness is not a permanent state—it comes and goes like any other emotion. The way society portrays happiness often makes it seem like an ultimate destination, something we must strive for and hold onto, but in reality, happiness is momentary, just like sadness, anger, or fear.
What Does Happiness Feel Like in the Body?
Happiness manifests physically in many ways:
- A lightness in the chest
- Relaxed muscles
- A genuine smile or laughter
- Increased energy
- A sense of warmth or excitement
- A release of stress or tension
Just as we notice the tension of anxiety or the heaviness of sadness, recognizing happiness in the body can help us appreciate it when it arises, even if only briefly.
How to Cultivate Happiness
Since happiness is fleeting, the focus shouldn’t be on trying to make it last forever, but rather on creating space for it to naturally occur. Some ways to invite happiness into daily life include:
- Gratitude: Acknowledging small joys, like a warm cup of coffee or a kind conversation.
- Mindfulness: Being present in the moment rather than waiting for happiness to come later.
- Connection: Spending time with loved ones and engaging in meaningful conversations.
- Engaging in Enjoyable Activities: Doing things that bring natural enjoyment, such as hobbies, music, or nature walks.
Rethinking Happiness: The Role of Contentment
Happiness is often presented as the ultimate goal, yet it remains fleeting—arriving in bursts, then fading. Unlike emotions like fear or anger, which serve clear survival purposes, happiness doesn’t seem essential for protection or problem-solving. So, what is its purpose?
Perhaps happiness isn’t meant to be constant. Instead, it is the peak of an emotional wave, while contentment is the steady ground beneath it. Instead of chasing happiness as an all-or-nothing state, we might focus on cultivating contentment—a lasting sense of peace and balance. Contentment doesn’t mean life is perfect; it means we are okay even in the midst of challenges. It allows us to experience happiness when it comes, without the pressure to make it stay.
Happiness can be big and loud—laughter, excitement, joyful energy. But it can also be small and quiet—a smirk, the warmth of the sun after a storm, the first sip of coffee. Happiness, in any form, is valid. Instead of asking, “Am I happy?” maybe the real question is, “Am I content?” Because contentment can carry us through even the hardest moments, making space for happiness to visit—without needing it to stay.
*As a side note, I feel a conversation on joy might need to come into play eventually, but for now, we can begin to notice these few main emotions and investigate them with curiosity.
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Through the Lens: Sadness
Photo by Shannon Stillness Above The Surface
Sadness can feel empty and hollow. We may struggle with feeling lifeless—just floating along—or find ourselves wanting to hunker down because the world might not understand the depth of our sorrow. This image reflects that sensation: black and white, gloomy, even eerie.
But sadness is more than what we see on the surface. Not many people can understand your sadness in the way that you do. Because underneath this floating, lifeless branch, fish are taking shelter among the twisted wood. Life is still moving—just differently.
The sadness we feel in the face of loss is equal to the care, passion, and love we had for the person or situation that has ended. As heavy as sadness can be, it is also a beautiful privilege to grieve so deeply.
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Lucy, The Unexpected Ally
Lucy, the Unexpected Ally
This is Lucy. She was a cellar spider that lived in our dining room. The first time I noticed her, my immediate reaction was fear—I wanted her gone. But then, I saw what she was doing.
Lucy had captured a harlequin lady beetle, better known as an Asian beetle. These invasive pests are everywhere in the upper Midwest, especially in the fall. They bite, they smell, and they always seem to find their way inside. But Lucy, with her messy, disorganized web, had managed to catch one—one less beetle for me to vacuum up.
At the time, my kids were just toddlers, and like me, they were afraid of spiders. But instead of passing my fear down to them, I chose to break the cycle. We watched Lucy together, learning about her instead of fearing her. I told them how cellar spiders are harmless and actually help keep other pests in check. And just like that, Lucy wasn’t a scary, unwanted guest anymore—she was part of the house. We even gave her a name.
Sometimes, the things we fear have a purpose. And when we take the time to learn about them, that fear can begin to fade. Of course, it’s easier with something tangible—like a spider—but the same idea applies to the fears we carry inside. If we lean in, just a little, and try to understand them, maybe they won’t seem so scary after all.
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My Walk with Fear
The Old Me
As a child, I hated being scared. My brothers used to hide in my room or sneak up behind me. They would jump out and say, “Boo.” I would fall to the floor in tears. I know it was all in good fun, and I’m sure my big reaction kept them coming back for more. Fast forward several decades, and now I have kids of my own. One of my darling children attempted a jump scare at me, and boy, did it work.
My big reaction to fear has always been just that—I scream, I cry, I freeze. While working through day treatment, I came to understand that my body was basically always in fight-or-flight mode. At times, the normal sounds of the house would make me jump—the air turning on, a sudden noise from another room. I absolutely hated it, but learning the why behind it forced me to see that my heightened startle response made perfect sense.
Learning a New Skill
During treatment, I was introduced to the mantra: “I am safe.” I was encouraged to repeat it whenever my body went into fight-or-flight mode, helping to rewire my brain and calm my nervous system. At first, it felt ridiculous—like I was lying to myself. My mind fought against it. Of course, you’re not safe. No one is 100% safe all the time. I would scoff, You’re lying to yourself. But over time, as I practiced, something interesting happened. My body began to respond. It didn’t mean I never felt fear, but my reactions started to shift.
Once my kids reached elementary age, I finally found my voice. After one particularly bad jump scare, I gathered my children and my husband and calmly explained that I did not like being scared. I shared that it was not a fun emotion for me and that my body reacted strongly to fear. My brilliant little humans, as curious as ever, asked why my body reacted this way and what had happened to me as a child.
Holding back tears, I told them, Mommy’s life was hard. My childhood was full of angry people, and it made me live on edge. I’m working with my body to remind myself that I am safe now.
My life Now
It took years, but I remember the day I was sitting on the deck, reading a book in the sunshine. The air conditioner unit clicked on. I heard it—but I didn’t jump. I noticed the sound, but my body stayed calm. It was a small moment, yet it was proof that something had changed. My body no longer treated a harmless noise as a threat.
Why do I share these stories with strangers on the internet? Because I know I’m not the only one who struggles with fear and feeling “jumpy.” I know others have lived through similar experiences, and these are not easy things to talk about. It’s not like you can casually tell a friend, “The air conditioner didn’t make me jump today!” without them looking at you strangely. Vulnerability on this level isn’t always met with compassion and understanding.
I want others to know—they are not alone in their walk with fear. Small victories are worth celebrating. Every time we notice progress, our brain rewires a little more. I used to think I was alone and weird. But looking back, it all makes sense. And I want to empower others to know that in time, things can and do get better. Slowly, with practice, patience, and self-compassion, we heal.
To this day, I still mute my television when a scary advertisement pops up—and I’m not embarrassed by it. Because I am doing what I need to do to protect my own body and mind.
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Rage Battle
Photo by Shannon The overwhelming sensation of anger disturbs and disrupts—not just our vision, but our internal balance. When rage takes hold, it can feel like the only relief comes from a volatile eruption of disdain and distress, releasing the tension however we can.
For a long time, my walk with anger was exactly this—a rush for release, no matter the cost. I didn’t care who I hurt or how I used my words. I lashed out, swirling like a storm, leaving a wake of destruction behind me. This was the old me.
But I grew tired of the endless damage control, the aftermath of my internal storm spilling onto others, whether provoked or not. A need to change became undeniable. Anger is heavy. It can consume. But when I stopped fighting it and started listening, I began to understand what it was trying to reveal to me. I had to set better boundaries—not just to protect others, but to take care of myself. I had to learn how to control my anger, to recognize its signals before it spiraled into destruction.
Looking at this digital piece I created, I feel the weight of it—the ominous, heavy waves of rage. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet so real. As I reflect on this piece, flashbacks are pulling my attention-images of the old me- but I have the ability to combat these thoughts with the realization that I have come so far, I’ve done the work. I see the transformation- and that is something to celebrate!
Wanna read more about emotional regulation?
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