Being happy is hard.

Being happy is hard.

We may not admit it often, but most of us are wired to seek discomfort.

Not on purpose, but through our constant urge to chase the next milestone, fix what’s not working, or worry about what’s coming next.

Philosophically, it’s a strange dilemma.

We want to be happy, yet we spend most of our time focused on what’s missing.

It’s almost like we’ve confused progress with peace.

Thinkers from Buddha to Schopenhauer believed that life is filled with suffering, and that happiness isn’t found in chasing pleasure, but in understanding pain.

Maybe happiness was never meant to be a destination.

It’s the act of seeking, the effort, the little sparks in between, that make the journey meaningful.

Even our biology reflects this.

Smiling typically uses just 17 muscles, while frowning takes up to 43.

A poetic reminder that we might actually be built for joy, even if our thoughts often convince us otherwise.

Maybe choosing happiness isn’t about forcing it.

It’s about noticing it, allowing it, and leaning into it.

We evolved with a negativity bias, scanning constantly for threats, flaws, and what’s missing.

This helped us survive.

But it rarely helps us feel content.

Still, we keep chasing happiness,

A perfect job.

A vacation.

A hobby.

A moment with loved ones.

And just when we think we’ve found it, it changes shape again.

Over the years, I’ve come to believe happiness isn’t a constant.

It’s something we practice.

A series of choices we make.

A moving target that teaches us to pause, reflect, and savor the now.

Like when my daughter laughs out loud at something silly.

Or when I solve a small problem that’s been bugging me all week.

Or even when I write posts like these, reflecting on the strange beauty of being human.

The pursuit itself, imperfect, evolving, and deeply personal, ends up being the most rewarding part.

And maybe that's enough.