What Do You Do After Finding Happiness?
“If you ever found paradise, you’d be the one to ruin it.” My mother chuckled as she said it, half-joking, half-true. It stuck with me, because what she really meant was this: we humans are wired for sabotage—not because we want to be miserable, but because we don’t know how to sit still in joy. Perfection unnerves us. Contentment confuses us. And sustainable bliss? That feels like a fantasy. Try as we might, the idea that happiness can last seems…unrealistic. But maybe that’s because we misunderstand what happiness actually is.
Isn’t it ironic how the brightest moments of our lives are so often paired with shadow? Like wine and cheese, joy and sorrow arrive together. It’s the strange contract of living on this side of heaven: in your world, you may be basking in a beachside sunrise while, elsewhere in your orbit, a tropical storm is thrashing everything in its path. This duality is not a glitch. It’s the design.
Still, there’s a chapter in life I like to call The Arrival. And no, it’s not the golden ending where life suddenly agrees with you on every dream, idea, and mood board you’ve ever created. The Arrival isn’t about everything being perfect—it’s about everything being aligned enough. Let me explain.
Happiness, as I’ve come to define it, is when your expectations of life finally meet your current reality. That’s The Arrival. It doesn’t matter how amazing your life is if it’s not what you thought it would be. Likewise, it doesn’t matter how difficult things are if it doesn’t feel like rock bottom to you. Perception, not circumstance, shapes our experience. You could be in suburbia with three children, a kind partner, and money to spare—but if you always dreamed of wandering the streets of Barcelona, sipping Tempranillo and writing poetry, that domestic bliss may feel like a cage.
Conversely, you could be newly jobless and friendless, but if your version of rock bottom meant losing your health or your children, then the peace you feel in spite of the chaos might surprise you.
So what’s my point, dear reader?
That your version of happiness has little to do with what’s “right or wrong” and everything to do with whether your life matches what you expected at this stage, age, and environment. The closer your life gets to your original vision—or at least a newer, wiser iteration of it—the higher your inner happiness meter climbs.
This, I think, is beautiful news. Because it means your happiness doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. Your joy is yours. Your peace is yours. So the real question becomes: what do you do after finding happiness?
Lean in, will you? Imagine we’re not reading a blog right now. Instead, we’re sitting in a sun-drenched café in the South of France.
A warm breeze brushes past us, and the waiter has just placed two flaky croissants on our table.
Hibiscus tea warms our hands. You turn to me and ask again, “What do you do after finding happiness, Maria?”
I smile and reply, “You identify with it.”
You treat your happiness like a new birthmark—an imprint of joy. A mark of survival. Something you carry. Something you protect. You don’t treat happiness like a fleeting gift that you’ll surely lose. You don’t side-eye your joy with skepticism. You accept it. You believe in it. Because what you believe, you create.
Let’s come back to reality for a moment—though I’ll miss that little café with you.
Here’s a truth most overlook: creation happens twice. Once in the mind. Once in the physical world. Every masterpiece began as an invisible idea. So don’t discount your thoughts—they are not random sparks flitting through a void. Thoughts are energetic paintbrushes, and your life is the canvas. What you dwell on, you manifest.
You may not realize it, but you and I are sharing this moment because you had a thought—an invisible decision to visit this blog. And just because you can’t see thoughts doesn’t mean they aren’t real. Microscopic organisms shape our very existence—and yet we don’t question their power just because we can’t see them. Thoughts are no different.
So be mindful of yours. Every uplifting thought builds a home for the goodness you desire. Every dark, cynical thought is a landmine in your garden—silent at first, but deadly over time. And yes, this is hard to apply. Because life does deliver betrayal, heartache, and heartbreak. And after enough sorrow, even hope starts to feel like a liability.
You may be nodding right now, thinking, “Exactly. That’s why I stay neutral. That’s why I don’t get too excited anymore.”
And I hear you. Neutrality is a safe space. But let me offer you this:
Ships are safest at the port. But ships weren’t built for ports.
Dare to believe in your version of happiness. Take the risk of identifying with joy. Watch the brushstrokes of your life take on new color, new texture, new light.
You might say, “But Maria, I’ve been through too much. I don’t know how to believe anymore. My happy chip is broken.”
To that, I say: I see you. I’ve lived through categoric devastation. But here’s what helped me rebuild—understanding that we return to dust not just biologically, but symbolically. We are like plants. What you believe about your life waters or poisons your roots. But unlike plants, we can move. You can change jobs, relationships, cities—whatever you need to set yourself up to believe again.
It’s a practice. A habit. So let’s begin together. Every morning, say these three things:
I am thankful for everything in my life.
Good things always happen to me.
I am going to have an amazing day.
Say them with conviction. Say them until they start to feel true—because they are.
And for those needing a deeper anchor, read Jeremiah 29:11. Soak in the divine assurance that you were meant for peace, purpose, and a future.
Will storms still come? Absolutely. But storms don’t destroy plants—they strengthen roots. Thunder nourishes. Rain cleanses. Growth often hides in the chaos.
So today, I wish you a day full of beauty, clarity, and unexpected blessings on the horizon.
Until next time,
Maria 🌹
