I think we get addicted to the negative.
To drowning in it.
To the probing.
The past.
The odds stacked against us.
I think we get addicted to misery.
To commiserating.
And negativity—it’s a disease.
Easy to catch.
One person throws out hate,
And next thing you know,
It’s 17 people down the line carrying it too.
People say it takes more energy to be miserable than it does to be happy.
I don’t exactly agree.
I think it takes more energy to keep going.
To keep pushing.
To keep building the life you love—
Or the life you want to love.
Chasing your dreams,
Even when it’s hard—
That takes energy.
Sitting still?
Sitting in a pool of misery—
A pool filled with regret, jealousy, resentment, anger—
That’s easier.
Healing is the hard part.
It takes work.
It takes strength.
It takes courage to look in the mirror and realize:
You’re the problem.
You always have been.
There will always be nasty neighbors.
Jealous friends.
Rage-filled drivers.
But how you react—
That’s who you are.
That’s your baseline.
That’s the direction your day will go.
There’s always been traffic.
But how will you deal with it?
It’s hard to get out of bed and look at the bright side.
Harder still to say: maybe medication would help.
Harder to admit defeat in order to rise.
I had to admit I failed at building a happy life in New York
Before I could go build a better one.
I had to admit I couldn’t fix myself alone before I could go to therapy.
I had to admit my depression was winning before I could go on meds.
That stuff isn’t easy.
It’s not pretty.
It’s not what you want to see in the mirror.
But on the other side of the ugly—
Is something beautiful.
Still, sometimes it is easier to lay in bed.
To complain to your friends about the same thing for the 20th time.
To stay in the cycle.
Because making the energetic, emotional, and financial commitment
To getting better?
That’s the hard part.
If you’ve done it—
I commend you.
And if you haven’t—
I understand you.
I fought it.
I clung to the pain until I had no breath left.
I stayed miserable for a long, long time
Before I finally threw in the towel.
And honestly?
Throwing in the towel in certain parts of my life
Was the best thing I ever did.
You have to want to get better to get better.
You have to want to get sober to get sober.
You’ll never do it for your mom,
Or your girlfriend,
Or your friends.
You won’t do it to impress the world,
Or to look like you’ve got your shit together.
You’ll only do it when you’re tired.
Tired of being sick and tired.
I was.
And once I threw the towel in,
The weight lifted.
I was vindicated by the truth:
I wasn’t okay.
I wasn’t happy.
And my life could look different.
I could be happier.
Admitting what wasn’t working set me free.
It let me see myself clearly—
Decide what I wanted to change,
And how badly I wanted it.
All this to say—
I didn’t realize how contagious negativity was
Until I found myself happy.
I’d spent so long commiserating,
Swimming in my sorrows,
That laying in the sun felt foreign.
But once I took off the rose-colored glasses,
I saw the truth:
It’s easier to be miserable.
But on the other side of the hard work—
Is liberation.