Am I really happy?

How did I get here? I think it’s just the natural way—you grow up in a world that encourages you to be the best. Study hard to get the highest grades, practice an instrument over and over again to perfect it, or break your body to be #1 in a certain sport. Life is about greatness, right? You only ever hear of remarkable people, so why wouldn’t we want to be like them, too?

That’s when I noticed a mentality I had been holding on to for the longest time. Success to me meant happiness. If I could definitely and concretely label myself a “success,” it meant I could finally be happy. Happiness would mean graduating at the top of my class, winning different competitions and contests, and being highly regarded in my field. It would mean having a high-paying job that I enjoy, a partner who treats me well, and the ability to travel the world.

All this time I thought I was chasing success, but it was actually happiness I was after.

When this dawned on me, it was terrifying. Am I not happy? How could I not be?

There is guilt in wanting more. I must be ungrateful; to yearn felt like admitting I wasn’t enough. To desire meant to never be satisfied.

I thought the best course of action was to seek greener pastures. There’s this belief that living and studying abroad will instantly better your life; while that might be true for some people, I had assumed that success (and happiness) would naturally trail after me.

When I moved away from home, happiness was still hard to find. Homesickness and anxiety chipped away at me. There was a lot of figuring out what to do and how to adjust to a new environment.

It was in the tiny pockets of sunshine that I realized happiness comes in the little things. I was happy when I was with my friends, both new and old. I was happy when I made and ate good food. (Cooking for my friends seemed to make me even happier.) I was happy when my favorite artist released music. I was happy FaceTiming my parents. I realized my day-to-day has always been full of light.

I used to feel a pinch in my heart every time an acquaintance updated their LinkedIn or an old classmate got married. It reminded me of all the things I don’t have. But I realized these were all accomplishments I didn’t necessarily want at this point in my life. I wanted it just because everyone else had it.

When happiness seemed harder to see, I narrowed my focus. In my small wins and even small failures, I realized I could find happiness anywhere. A sweet treat after a long day of studying felt great. Watching an episode of a new show after days of working on an assignment was liberating. Hell, even a short walk on a sunny afternoon after a spell of rain healed me.

I think what helped me was patience and care. I had to be patient with my journey and progress and stop comparing myself to my peers. I needed to care more about the smaller moments. My happiness shouldn’t be tied to my success, because that’s hurtful to all the people who love me and make me happy. It took time with my friends, my family, and myself to reinforce this truth in me.

Growing up I thought that the road to happiness was one path, straight and linear, and if I wasn’t walking it then I would lose it forever. One misstep, one stumble, and I would never find it again.

I am now straying away from that path. I am looking around: forward to inspire me to keep going, and backward to remind me of how I got here. I am skipping down forks in the road, detouring, and pausing to rest.

After all, the happiest I ever felt was not after traditional successful moments; those were usually followed by bouts of impostor syndrome and tiredness. Happiness is everything around you, and not to be a toxic-positivity spreader, but it’s there. Yes, happiness is frail. I can hold it in my hands. I can crush it, I can mold it, I can mend it. But that’s what makes it precious.