What I've learned is that happiness is a choice. One that is totally and completely ours to make. For years, I blamed others for my unhappiness. I blamed the girls at school who didn't like me, the boys who broke my heart, and the Victoria's Secret models for their enviable bodies.
What I understand now is that my happiness depends on me. Happiness is waking up each morning and taking care of my body through exercise, nutrition, and allowing love in. It’s the laughter I allow in my day and spending time with people I love. It’s satisfaction doing the things I love and being content even in the moments when I'm doing absolutely nothing.
Happiness isn’t constant. I have my share of good days — along with a few terrible ones. Every now and then all I need is a good cry, home alone, and snuggled up with my puppy, Rio.
When strangers repost my photos with captions that they “wish they had [my] life,” I wish they knew about my late night weep sessions. I don't think they're wishing for those.
Today, my hope is to start telling a deeper story — the ebbs and flows of reality that you can't always see from my Instagram feed. The girls and women of Instagram, Tumblr, and runways all have their struggles and crappy days. In the end, their appearance, and mine has nothing to do with happiness.
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