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How to Write a Mission Statement (and Why I Bothered)

Wednesday, May 16th, 2012 |

I had considered learning how to write a mission statement for years.

Or at least, I’d come across the idea of a mission statement in numerous self help books and productivity seminars and thought, “yeah, that sounds like a good idea, I guess.” But mostly I’d left it in the realm of ‘stuff that sounds good in theory but was probably useless in day-to-day life’, like writing down your goals or going through those stupid exercises on the quitting smoking web site.

Of course, I eventually did start writing down my goals and doing those stupid exercises on the quitting smoking web site. And it worked.

I suppose that’s why I finally decided to give the old mission statement thing a try.

How to Write a Mission Statement (or, how I did it)

I started by doing this exercise from the Liberated Life Project:

Look at the list of verbs below. As you look at each word, say it aloud and allow a full minute to absorb how much you resonate with that particular quality. Then write a number next to that word, using a rating scale of 1 to 5. If you feel nothing at all about the word, give it a 1. If you’re ready to jump out of your chair because you feel so in tune with that quality, give it a 5.

  • Bridging
  • Brightening
  • Communicating
  • Connecting
  • Creating
  • Discovering
  • Embracing
  • Encouraging
  • Giving
  • Healing
  • Integrating
  • Leading
  • Learning
  • Loving
  • Organizing
  • Relating
  • Remembering
  • Restoring
  • Teaching

And you may find there are some powerful verbs not included on this list that you want to add. Go for it!

Now look at your numbers – every word that you’ve rated with a 4 or 5 should make it into your mission statement.

This gave me a few words to start with, but not enough to write an entire mission statement. It gave me a hint, however, of what was to come.

Next I went to the Franklin Covey website and used their Mission Statement Builder.

Essentially, I answered a bunch of questions that helped clarify for me what my goals and key values are. After filling out the online questionnaire, a poorly worded mission statement is generated. I didn’t claim it as my own, but I did read it over and look for patterns. I noticed similarities between these results and the words that had resonated with me in the first exercise. There were words and themes that kept popping up.

I put it aside.

That step was huge for me. That step wasn’t listed in any of the books, although I had read that figuring out how to write a mission statement could take time. I am generally not great at taking time, at doing nothing, but I’m working on it.

I came back a few nights later and pulled up the words and sentences that had been cobbled together from the two exercises. I thought about the end of my life, my deathbed, and my inevitable funeral and eulogies. I considered both how I wanted to be remembered and what memories I would likely hold dearest. I began to write.

I put it aside again.

I came back again after a couple more days had passed, and I made some edits. I deleted the superfluous and anything that didn’t really resonate with me. I considered my most important roles and ignored anything that I wasn’t certain was critical to me at this point in my life.

I was left with this mission statement:

**********

My mission is to know and love myself, my neighbor, and my world and to encourage and inspire others to know and love themselves.

I am at my best when I am healthy, exploring, learning, inspiring, and connecting. I am proactive about incorporating each of these elements into my life, for I am responsible for being happy, confident, and successful.

I find opportunities to use my natural talents of communicating, both listening and sharing.

I travel the world and inspire people to identify and embrace what matters most in their lives, and encourage them to reach further.

I am guided and identified by the principles of courage, integrity, kindness, and acceptance.

I give my husband and children the courage and faith to live their dreams as well as my unconditional love.

I have faith in destiny and bravely take the path that unfolds before me.

**********

It is not witty or extraordinarily eloquent, and I’m certain it will evolve over the years as I do. It is deeply personal, and I kind of feel like I’ve just shared with you a video of me doing the ugly cry or something equally revealing. Yikes.

I still think the whole thing sounds a little silly, but this mission statement has already served its purpose by being a guide I could consult in confusing times. When we were trying to figure out our next best step–and specifically where we were going to live–I reread these words. I focused on the key principles that I’d put in bold text. I remembered how important courage was to me and I knew exactly what the most right decision was.

If you feel a bit like you may be wandering or like you could use a good compass in your life, I encourage you to try writing a mission statement. It may feel awkward at first and it will probably take more than one try, but I believe it is one of those wacky self help tools that actually does make a difference in real life.

Of course, if you’ve already written one (or tried (or vowed never to try)), I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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Categories: Growth | Tags: , , , , , ,

Happiness Highlights: The Little Things

Monday, May 14th, 2012 |

Every Monday, I start my week by highlighting what made me happy from the previous week, because I believe we multiply what we focus on, and that gratitude is the first step in learning how to be happier.

Sometimes, happiness bursts into our lives with much fanfare and hoopla. We achieve goals, realize dreams, or make monumental changes that make us happier. But usually, happiness seeps in quietly among the day-to-day business of getting by. Most often, happiness is found in the little things.

This was a week of beautiful little things.

We helped my mother-in-law get the patio furniture she’d bought weeks ago finally set out, and it was so pretty. We spent a few hours sitting outside at night  during the week and on Mother’s Day. My mother-in-law doesn’t just sit very often, so I was especially thrilled to see her just sit and enjoy her home. Plus, I have been loving having a nice place to lounge in the sun. Have I mentioned my in-law’s house is way nicer than any place I’ve ever lived? It’s a heck of a place to be homeless for a few months!

Before I moved to Florida, I used to help coach the high school drill team with my best friend Erin. This week she asked me to come up and judge try outs for next year’s team. It was so much fun to be a part of that again for a little bit! I love working with the girls, and Erin invited me to help out this summer with camp if I wanted. I think I might take her up on it – keeps me feeling young.

Speaking of young…

Ah, yes. Happiness really is found in the little things. I got to spend Mother’s Day surrounded by little ones – and one child of mine who is not near as little anymore.

That child spent his own money (and some of his father’s) to buy me a new suitcase, a red one with four spinning wheels! He also made me a card and breakfast in bed, which came complete with a banana since he “knows you don’t eat toast, Mom.” I was so touched by his thoughtfulness.

On top of all those little moments, Jared wrote me a post for Mother’s Day. I’m a sucker for public declarations of love.

What were the highlights of your week?

 

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We’re Moving to…

Friday, May 11th, 2012 |

Pittsburgh!

Yep, after driving around the country and visiting dozens of cities, we have decided that the one we’re going to call home is in western Pennsylvania.

Even though the only reason we visited Pittsburgh in the first place was because our friend Becky insisted on it, we fell in love with the place instantly. We realized just how much after we left, when we found ourselves comparing everywhere else to the old Steel City. By the end of our trip, we were certain Pittsburgh was where we would make our next home.

And then we went back to Florida and realized how hard it was going to be to leave our old home behind. In fact, we were suddenly unsure of anything, and we agreed to do nothing for a few weeks. By doing nothing, I was able to see that it was mainly fear that had me facing south.

But I am committed to living with courage.

So we’re taking another leap of faith.

We’re moving to a city that puts a confused look on everyone’s face when we tell them about our desire to live there.

We’re moving to a place where we have no family and just a handful of friends.

We’re moving to a place that we have visited exactly once, in a part of the country about which we know very little.

And we are totally excited about it.

Yes, we are a little nervous about the harsh winters, but we’re looking forward to the chance to make our city-living dreams come true. No, Pittsburgh is not a major metropolis like New York City or San Francisco, but its also considerably less expensive than those places while still offering much of what I like about cities. There is tons to do and we will, hopefully, be able to live right in the heart of it all.

We’ll be making our move in August after a vacation to Costa Rica, and I can’t wait.

The next chapter begins…

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Categories: Travel | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The Cost of Progress is Comfort

Wednesday, May 9th, 2012 |

Moving forward, getting something new–it always requires a sacrifice.

No pain, no gain.

Usually, we think we will have to give up our time or money. We are prepared to meet these demands.

These are trinkets compared to the real price of change:

Comfort
Security
A sense of belonging
Confidence
Relationships

This is the real cost. This is what you will be asked to give up, to lose, at least temporarily.

Looking back over the last several years of my life, I realize that every significant step forward has come at the expense of the comfort of where I was. It seems to be a law of nature.

You cannot discover new oceans without losing sight of the shore.

Make no mistake, when the last sign of shore disappears and you find yourself bobbing in the middle of an unfamiliar ocean, it is terrifying. Even if you hated that old shore, you will suddenly long for its trees and sand and bugs and storms. You will remember it all fondly; you were the king of that damn beach!

We have to endure this moment of loss and all the fear and sadness that comes with it.

We have to give up to get more.

I gave up home, family, and friends to move to Florida. I did it again to road trip America for a year. I’ll have to do it again when we make our next move this summer.

When we go back to school as adults, we give up the confidence of knowing who the hell we are and what we became when we grew up.

When we go into marriage counseling, we give up the comfort of knowing the rules of our relationship, who is right and wrong and how the victor is decided.

When we commit to losing weight, we give up part of our identity: funny and fat, fluffy but fun, uncomfortable in our clothes but bonded with our peers.

I posed this question on Facebook a couple weeks ago:

Think back to the BEST changes in your life – what did it cost you?

Eight people talked about the decisions they’ve made–to move, to go to school–and shared what they’d given up. Nearly everyone mentioned comfort or comfort zones. Nearly everyone said it was worth it.

But ooh, baby, is it hard.

I keep coming back to change being hard because I need to remind myself that resistance is a sign that I’m moving in the right direction. It’s tempting to turn away from the pain; hell, it’s instinctive! If it is so damn hard, it can’t be good, right?

We can’t use difficulty to determine whether or not we’re moving in the right direction. If we never endure the discomfort of change, we’ll never enjoy the the exhilaration of knowing it was worth it. After progress feels bad, it feels good, and we want that. I want that.

What, then, can guide us, if not our natural aversion to pain?

Our dreams, maybe. Our best versions of ourselves. The values and goals we write down when we are not afraid.

Maybe our fear. Maybe our fear and discomfort are our best guides.

We’ve just got to close our eyes and lean into it.

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Happiness Highlights: Decisions Made, Dreams Realized

Monday, May 7th, 2012 |

Every Monday, I start my week by highlighting what made me happy from the previous week, because I believe we multiply what we focus on, and that gratitude is the first step in learning how to be happier.

This week I was very productive. I plowed through my to-do list every day, tackling both the scary tasks and the simple ones that I tend to put off – like going to the doctor.

I saw an NP this week (the one who encouraged my mom to go back to school!), and she helped me adjust my anti-depressants and added Vitamin D to my daily pill intake. I laughed when she told me there was not near enough sun to keep a Florida girl healthy — I’ve been saying the same thing for five years now! I began to feel more like myself by the end of the week.

The change in medication, combined with a couple weeks of just letting things sit, brought about the peace and clarity Jared and I needed to make the decision about what comes next for us. We don’t have all the answers yet, but we know, at least, in which direction we’re setting our sails. After a month of dog paddling, that orientation feels so good.

Productivity and decision making is nice, but the real highlights of my week came over the weekend.

Watching my mom receive her MSN and then speak on behalf of her class was one of the coolest things I’ve ever experienced. I was so proud of her and so impressed by her. I’m thrilled that all of her grandchildren could be there to see their Nanna achieve her goals – what an incredible example she has set for them.

On top of that, I got to spend the weekend with Jude again. This was his first two-night trip away from his mom and the first time I’d gotten to spend so much time with him at once. He learned all of our names and figured out I was a safe person to go to when he was scared or unsure. I also got to hear him say, “love you” to his dad, my brother, over the phone. Theirs, ours, is not an ideal situation, but it is one we are determined to infuse with love.

It was a good week and a great weekend, one that I couldn’t have had on the road or in Florida.

What were the highlights of your week?

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Inspired by My Mom, Who Can Do Anything

Friday, May 4th, 2012 |

I have not always been proud of my mom. She knows this, mainly because I would tell her constantly about all of the things she should be doing differently. It’s only fair then that I take the time to tell her–and you–how incredibly proud of her I am today.

Today, my mother receives her Master of Science in Nursing.

At 51 years old, she’ll walk across a stage in a cap and gown. She’ll stand at a podium on that stage and speak for her class, an honor bestowed upon her by her peers and instructors, in part because of her academic excellence.

This journey started about twenty years ago.

I don’t remember what my mom was doing for a living, or if she was able to find work at all. I remember we were poor. Very poor. I know that her husband at the time spent whatever cash she could come up with on drugs and alcohol. I know that they fought in the middle of the night and she used her arms to protect her head from pummeling fists.

And then they decided to go back to school. Both of them enrolled in nursing school, earning first an LPN degree and then an RN. The RN my mom earned while working full time.

Her job prospects got better, but the abuse continued.

When I was 12, she left. We left. She took us from that home and that town and started over in a new place with a new job. There would be many new jobs and new homes for her over the next decade. She would even leave the nursing industry entirely for a while in one of her many efforts to make things better. She worked in sales and then she started her own business, always striving to make things more normal and safe for my brothers and I.

About ten years ago, she called to tell me that she was thinking about going back into nursing. It sounded crazy to me; she hadn’t worked as a nurse for at least five years. She had to take a bunch of classes and get her license renewed. She had to explain a five year absence to a prospective employer. Nursing was something she’d tried and quit years ago; why would she go back to it?

“I think I can do this,” she told me.

“Why would you want to?” I asked.

We’re taught to see going back as failure. We move forward. We move on. We don’t revisit a passion we’d held years ago; it’s practically admitting you were wrong to give up in the first place!

She didn’t care.

She went back.

She got a job in a nursing home near her house, the same nursing home where my mother-in-law works. It was there that I told them both that we were expecting another baby. It was there that she heard about a storm that had wiped out half of the town. It was there that she got her groove back. It was there that she decided she wanted more.

I was driving on I-4 in Central Florida, enjoying my daily commute-and-chat with my mom, when she told me she was thinking of going back to school. She had befriended a woman at work, a nurse practitioner, who had been encouraging her to consider graduate school. My mom was 48 and asking me if it was a good idea to go back to college.

“Is this stupid? Am I crazy?” she asked.

“Of course not! Two years is nothing!” I told her.

A couple weeks later she called to tell me she’d learned it would actually take three years for her to become a nurse practitioner. She had to earn her bachelors degree first and then earn her masters degree.

“That’s another year before I can even think about practicing,” she said. “I’ll be almost 52 before I even graduate!”

I guess at 48, 52 seems really far away.

“You can do this,” I told her. “You can do anything.”

I figured she probably could, but I wasn’t sure if she’d actually go through with it. My mom is notorious for her grand ideas.

She went back.

A year into her schooling, her oldest son was arrested. He was accused of robbing ten banks, an accusation that sounded absolutely ludicrous at first. Of course it did. And then it became slightly less ludicrous as we began to learn more. The bottom fell out of her world and it seemed as if it would be forever until she got to hold her child again.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this,” she told me one morning.

I wasn’t sure if she was talking specifically about school or all of it, but I knew she wanted to quit. Working full time and going to school was already pushing her to her limits; the added toll of her son’s problems threatened to break her.

“You can do this,” I told her. “You can do anything.”

I was starting to believe maybe she really could. She’d already done so much.

She stayed. She pushed on. She grieved for the life she had wanted for her son, stood beside his girlfriend through a pregnancy and the birth of her grandchild, and still managed to go to school and work. And she did it well. She made As and Bs even when she was sure she was failing.

She earned her bachelors degree with academic honors and almost no fanfare from her family. Only her husband attended the graduation ceremony. The rest of us were incarcerated, sick, or simply too busy to make a big deal out of it. Maybe we believed her when she said it was nothing. But we were wrong; it wasn’t nothing.

Still she wasn’t done. She took a new job, one with a better salary and more responsibilities. She struggled to learn her new role while keeping up with her school work. When the long days stretched into long weeks and even longer months, she questioned whether or not she’d taken on too much.

“I don’t think it was a good idea to take on a new job while I’m still in school,” she said. “I’m not sure I can do all of this.”

“You can do this,” I told her again. “You can do anything.”

I knew it was true. My mom had shown us all that she was super hero.

Today she graduates.

She has finished her graduate program and done it extraordinarily well. She’ll wear a special hood over her robe to symbolize her academic excellence, to symbolize her ability to not only survive but thrive.

My mom is amazing.

She can do anything.

And I am so, so proud to be her daughter.

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Categories: Inspirations | Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

7 Habits of Happy People

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2012 |

Happy people forgive their friends for not asking before posting photos of them wearing funny hats on the Internet.

I’ve been reading the book 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. It’s an old classic that I’ve read before and it teaches productivity as well as principle-centered living. It’s gotten me thinking about the habits of happy people and the principles that might be at the root of them. I’ve looked around at some of the happiest people I know and have observed a few similarities in their behavior.

1. Happy people say yes.

Happy people always seem to be doing something new and interesting. They’re visiting the zoo with their friends or taking a quilting class. They’re taking off for a weekend of journaling in the mountains or participating in a city-wide pillow fight. While the rest of the world is reading the recaps in the paper, happy people are seeing the fliers on the cork board at their grocery store and saying, “heck yes I want to go to an independent film festival this weekend!”

When invitations come my way, I want to cultivate the habit of saying yes.

The more I say yes, the more opportunities are presented to me.

2. Happy people say thank you.

Some happy people have an actual ritual of saying thank you, a regular gratitude practice that helps them to make note of their blessings. Others are just constantly saying thank you for gifts of any shape or size. They thank God before every meal and send thank you texts after every lunch date.

Gratitude is one of the best ways to spot and become a happy person.

3. Happy people speak well of other people.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that happy people also tend to be nice. Being nice feels better than being nasty, at least in the long-term. Sure, indulging in the occasional gossip fest with a friend is fun for a little while, but the end result is a residue of guilt and resentment. All of the markedly happy people I know are constantly saying nice things about people behind their back. They make you want to meet their friends and have dinner with their family.

I’m attracted to people who speak well of others, because I imagine they’re more likely to speak well of me.

4. Happy people laugh.

Happiness can come in the form of a quiet smile or a peaceful resolve, but it’s bound to bust out into a laugh once in a while. It seems to me that happy people appreciate the lighter side of life. They don’t take themselves or anything else too seriously. They laugh at silly pictures of cats and shallow TV sitcoms. They laugh when they see kids playing and when they realize they’ve had their shirt on backwards all day.

The nice thing about laughter is that it’s contagious.

Letting yourself laugh out loud is the best way to spread some of your happiness around, and I swear it will be bigger and richer by the time it comes back to you.

5. Happy people listen.

My favorite people are good listeners. They don’t rush to offer judgment or help and they might not even tell you that they know exactly how you feel – especially if they don’t. They just listen, openly without assumptions. It’s such a gift that they give to me, but it seems to also contribute to their happiness.

The best thing I can do to enrich my own life and my relationships is listen more.

Taking the time to listen helps us learn. It keeps our minds open to wisdom and new perspectives. When we focus on listening, we take ourselves out of the equation and are less likely to be hurt or offended by what we hear.

6. Happy people believe in… something.

I’ve met happy people from various religions and belief systems. It doesn’t seem to matter exactly what they believe in as much as the fact that they do believe in something or someone bigger than themselves. That might be God, or a Universe, or an invisible link between all of humanity. Maybe having faith in a higher power helps us let go of our illusions of control, or maybe it just makes us feel more connected to our fellow man.

Whatever the reason, embracing a hope in the unknown seems to help people be happier.

My faith in God and belief in a Universe that connects us all gives me peace.

7. Happy people accept imperfection.

The more I thought about the happy people I knew, the more I realized that they weren’t flawless in their day-to-day execution of life. They didn’t all get up early or exercise every day. Some of them were organized and some of them embraced the art of clutter. Some of them dressed beautifully and others had no qualms with going out in public in pajamas.

None of the happy people I know are perfect. They all seem to know that.

Even if they are constantly working on improving something, my happiness mentors acknowledge and accept that perfection is not the goal. They accept their own quirks and the weaknesses of others, which makes it a heck of a lot easier to be vulnerable and authentic when they are around.

I hope to make these habits part of my make up.

What habits do you notice in the happy people you know?

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Happiness Highlights: Making the Most of It

Monday, April 30th, 2012 |

Every Monday, I start my week by highlighting what made me happy from the previous week, because I believe we multiply what we focus on, and that gratitude is the first step in learning how to be happier.

After whining away my blessings last week, I decided to make a conscious effort to appreciate the time we have here in Iowa. We will be staying here with Jared’s parents until sometime this summer, which gives us a lot of time with family and friends that we wouldn’t normally have. I don’t want to spend all my time here stressing about what comes next, only to cry when it’s time to say goodbye again.

I am determined to make the most of this time. To soak it up. To revel in the now so that when later comes, I have no regrets about time wasted.

This week we celebrated my mother-in-law’s birthday with family dinner and a store-bought cake.

I went for walks with my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law.

The three of us took three little girls –Emma and her two cousins– for pedicures. On the way home, I taught the girls about acting and we practiced making faces to match our feelings. I laughed until my own face hurt.

I made lunch plans with Erin, who then climbed into bed with me when I was too stressed out to face the world. She reminded me that my worst case scenarios weren’t all that bad and made me relax, smile, and come out from under the covers.

We went to a bachelorette party together later in the week, and I had such a good time catching up with women I rarely see but always enjoy.

I had dinner with my own mother, who is just days away from earning her graduate degree and having something resembling a life again. But she made time for us now.

Yesterday I took her to see her grandson. It was the first time she has seen him in four months.

He called her Nana for the first time.

She cried. I cried. He looked at us like we were nuts.

And then he called me grandma.

I am so, so lucky to have these moments with these people.

What were the highlights of your week?

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Categories: Relationships | Tags: , , ,

Learning How to Do Nothing (Yet)

Friday, April 27th, 2012 |

I am a decision maker and a doer.

I don’t always get the job done well, but it is done.

Well, until I have to go back and redo it because, come to find out, doing a job pretty much right but not exactly often means having to fix things later.

I am still learning this lesson at 32 years old. I know. It’s kind of embarrassing, but mostly I’m proud that I am finally developing the patience needed to slow down and do it right.

Sometimes doing the right thing means doing nothing for a little bit.

When I was working on making my dress tunic at Lisa’s house, I struggled with figuring out how to attach the collar to the bodice. Then, at about 10 o’clock at night, we realized that I had cut the fabric the wrong size and there was no way I was getting that garment onto my body, even if I did manage to create a finished neckline.

I considered just finishing it and living with a shirt that didn’t fit me.

Maybe I could lose weight, or find someone to give it to.

I wanted so badly to be done.

Lisa suggested I go to bed and come back to it in the morning.

I didn’t want to go to bed. I wanted to do. I couldn’t stand the idea of walking away, even for a little bit. But then I remembered the whole point of the Life List is to have experiences that enrich my life, not to check things off an arbitrary list of my own making. I wanted to wear something I’d made. I wanted to get it right.

I went to bed, and the next day I came back refreshed and ready to start over. Today I have a beautiful tunic in my closet. I wear it with pride and remember the fun I had making it with my beloved girlfriend. It’s a symbol to me of perseverance and patience.

Now I am faced with a major decision and I am desperately trying not to settle.

Where will we live next?

I thought I had it all figured out.

I have always wanted to live in a city. I imagine running my daily errands on foot rather than by car. I fantasize about apartment living and neighborhood festivals. Whenever I visit a city, I long to plug into the power grid that I can feel pulsing all around me. Jared and I spent a good chunk of our 10-month road trip deciding where we’d settle when the trip was over (once we figured out that, yes, we did want to be at least a little settled somewhere.)

We fell in love.

We picked.

We decided.

And then we went home to Florida and realized we were already settled somewhere.

Just driving across the state line made me feel more relaxed. I felt comfortable in our friends’ home. I drove through my old neighborhood, past our old house, and I cried for the security we’d given up. I loved that house. There was never a day that I didn’t love that house, even when I decided that we had to give it up to have more.

I wanted it all back. I wanted to be home, to be safe, to be plugged into what I already knew. I wanted to reclaim the life we’d spent four years building for ourselves after leaving another home in another town.

That town in Iowa feels strange to us now. It’s filled with memories, but it isn’t our place anymore.  Choosing yet another place would mean turning yet another home into an old, disconnected memory. The only way to get that city life–a life that may only exist in my imagination–is to let go of the feeling of belonging I already have in Florida.

On top of all that, there are dozens of other unknown variables in the mix, questions about things like money. These questions won’t have answers for several weeks yet. It’s a little difficult to choose a home when you don’t yet know how you’ll be paying the rent.

I am willing myself not to decide right now, not to do. We have a little bit of time before we have to make anything permanent, and I’m trying to relax. I am breathing, thinking, and trying to open myself up to wisdom and affirmation.

I hate the uncertainty of not deciding, but I am trying to be patient.

I am practicing the art of doing nothing.

Thus far, I am sucking at it.

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Why Don’t We Do What We Know Will Make Us Happier?

Wednesday, April 25th, 2012 |

About a month ago, my friend Lisa and I were riding home from the gym with her husband JB, discussing how great we felt after working out. The conversation quickly turned to all of the benefits of losing weight and being healthier, how it was obviously worth giving up crappy food and time in front of the TV. I almost allowed myself to feel smug, except that I was struck by the difference between what we each professed to know and how I actually live my life.

“We all know what we need to do to be healthy – almost everyone does,” I said. “So why don’t we just do it? Why do so many of us struggle to do the things that we know will make us happier?”

Despite knowing better, we don’t do what we need to do.

You know we don’t.

We don’t spend enough time with our loved ones or eat the foods that will keep us healthy. We don’t give up bad habits or break up with bad friends. We don’t turn off the TV or take the time to make a household budget. We don’t take that trip we’ve been talking about for years or find a way to quit the job we know is killing us.

Most of us know, deep down in our hearts, exactly what we need to do right now to be happier.

It may still be  a whisper, but our inner voices are telling us.

We’re just pretending not to hear.

Don’t we want to be happy?

I don’t think there’s a person alive who doesn’t instinctively crave happiness.

We write it into our legal documents, buy books in hopes of finding it, and wish it fervently for our children. We go to great lengths to achieve it, sometimes searching in dangerous places for even the briefest encounter with happiness.

Our self-sabotage and failure to act is about a lot more than not wanting to be happy.

For most of us, the answer is complicated. There are layers of belief systems and insecurities holding us down.

Maybe we are afraid to be bad people.

Being happier than you are today usually requires change, changes that demand time or even money. We’re already using that time and money elsewhere. Isn’t it selfish to reroute those resources for the frivolous pursuit of happiness?

Maybe we’re afraid of inconveniencing our spouses, short-changing our children, or disappointing our parents. Maybe doing things differently than the way people around us are doing them says that we think we are better than our peers.

And who are you to obsess about happiness anyway?

Shouldn’t you focus on gratitude and giving back instead?

The fear of being selfish, bad, irresponsible, lazy or any number of other negative things has stopped me from acknowledging my own inner voice countless times.

Wanting to write for a living instead of work in sales makes me lazy.

Traveling for a year makes me irresponsible.

Thinking I could make a living as a freelance writer when so many people fail makes me egotistical.

Maybe we are afraid to fail.

Jared is taking a huge leap of faith right now in his career. He’s investing time and money into learning a brand new skill set, hoping the payoff will be a work life he actually enjoys. But he is scared. He is scared that taking this time off to learn won’t work. He is afraid of not being able to earn enough money.

He spent ten years installing cable because he was afraid of failing if he tried something else.

Every week, I set a goal for sending out a certain number of queries to magazines. Every week, I procrastinate sending out those queries. I’m afraid I’ll send them and get no response. I’m afraid I’m wasting my time. I’d rather watch sitcoms on Hulu and know I’m being unproductive than spend my time trying and then fail.

I wonder how many of us don’t make small changes because we think they won’t matter, and we worry we will look stupid for even trying.

Maybe change is too hard to do alone.

Getting up early to go to the gym is hard. It is not easy to battle fatigue in the morning or to go to bed earlier when you’ve finally gotten a few hours alone with your husband.

Saving up for a trip is hard. There’s always something else you could be doing with that money. It is not easy to go without new clothes or to tell your friends no when they invite you out for drinks.

It’s hard to choose a smaller home when everyone you know is upgrading.

It’s hard to drive a car that is ugly and loud, even if you don’t have a car payment.

It’s hard to pass up chocolate cake for dessert.

It’s hard to email a stranger and ask them to pay you for work that you love.

It’s hard to tell your kids they can’t have the same toys their friends have.

It’s hard to tell your parents that you don’t want to live near them.

It’s hard to practice a skill or work towards a goal when the rest of the world seems to be tuning into the next episode of American Idol.

Change is hard.

It’s not impossible, no. But there’s no denying that change is uncomfortable and that discomfort sucks, at least temporarily. Sure, it’d be great if we all had massive amounts of self discipline and could push through discomfort on our own, secure in the knowledge that the results would be worth it.

But sometimes we forget it will be worth it.

Sometimes we don’t know if we will fail, and we forget that simply trying will have made us better.

Maybe that’s when we need to ask for help, to seek support from like-minded people who will remind us that the chance to be happier long-term is facing short-term pain and sacrifice.

And maybe we need to be patient with ourselves, while committing to keep doing the best that we can.

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