A reflection that arrived without asking
Yesterday I turned 43. Not the kind of birthday marked by noise or spectacle. The quieter kind. The ones that arrive with a pause built in, where life almost asks you to sit down for a moment and actually look at what you’re standing on. For a long time, I believed happiness lived somewhere ahead of me. Just past the next achievement. The next milestone. The next version of myself that was thinner, richer, more successful, more “sorted”. I kept postponing my arrival, telling myself life would properly begin once I earned it. That belief nearly killed me. There was a time when I was a top-earning sales manager. Respected. Trusted. Reliable. And then, slowly, invisibly at first, addiction hollowed everything out. Years blurred together. Pride gave way to survival. Stability dissolved into homelessness. Identity disappeared. Not overnight, but inch by inch, until there was very little left to recognise. I don’t share this for drama. I share it because six years clean now, I can see something with clarity that I couldn’t see back then. Happiness isn’t the absence of struggle. It’s not a reward you unlock once you’ve proven yourself worthy. It’s not waiting patiently at the finish line. Happiness is choosing not to abandon yourself in the middle of the race. It’s learning that growth includes discomfort. That love includes repair. That relationships require courage, not perfection. That progress doesn’t cancel gratitude. And that you don’t need to keep yourself hostage to an imagined future in order to justify your present. Today, my life isn’t perfect. But it’s mine. I’m building a business with intention. I’m surrounded by people who know my story and stayed anyway. I feel a sense of belonging I used to think was reserved for other people. I’m grateful for where I am, without dulling my excitement for where I’m going. That feels like happiness to me. If this resonates, even quietly, I’d really like to know. Not because I need validation, but because none of us are as alone in these realisations as we think. Sometimes a simple “me too” is the beginning of something important.