On Denying Myself Happiness

How often do you hold yourself back from things that would make you truly happy?

In 2015, I went to my first retreat. It was in South Carolina with Elizabeth DiAlto, at a cute house that had a gorgeous back porch looking out onto the tidal marsh.

I lived on that porch. Whenever we weren’t in process, I was there, journaling, listening to music, or just breathing and soaking up the view. Porch life was the life for me, and I couldn’t have been happier. The last thing I did before we left was sit out on that porch, tears leaking down, and say goodbye.

At some point over the weekend, Elizabeth urged me to prioritize moving to a home with a porch. “Someday,” I said, and when she (rightly) pushed me on it, reflecting back to me how much it would clearly have a huge impact on my life, I’d start offering up all my excuses as to why I couldn’t have what I wanted.

I remember the look she gave me. It’s the same one I give clients now when they are stuck in their bullshit and I can see so clearly how it’s of their own making.

So much wasn’t working in my current housing situation, but so much was beneficial — and it was making me feel somehow like both options, staying and leaving, were a lose/lose for me.

I couldn’t seem to change what wasn’t working. And I couldn’t seem to get myself to leave what was working. I was, absolutely, stuck… in my head, in my excuses, in my limiting beliefs, and in my fear of letting go of what was good enough to reach for what could have been better.

Nine months later, I would move out of that house, into a van which most definitely did not have a porch, to do a road trip volunteer project. Looking back I can see I was trying to use the project as a way to escape a situation I couldn’t make myself leave without a really “good” reason. If not being happy wasn’t reason enough, desiring a porch most definitely was not either. Helping others and sacrificing what I wanted in the process? That was reason enough to leave. That made sense to me. So, off we went.

After I moved out, I floated for a few years before settling back down. When I moved to the bay, it was so hard to find any apartment at all in my budget. A porch wasn’t really a high priority in my mind.

So when we found an apartment that did have a back porch, I felt like I should be grateful. It was technically what I wanted, right?

But honestly, it wasn’t anywhere near the porch I desired. In fact, it was downright woeful.

It was always dirty no matter how often I cleaned it. It looked out onto a parking lot and a busted up building. It was in the shade, which in the bay means it was always dark and cold and windy. It was a pretty miserable place.

For years I’d try to spruce it up and make it a place I could hang out, but even at it’s most pretty, it was pretty pathetic. I wanted a place where my whole body would relax, a place I wanted to spend hours, but no matter how much I tried, I’d never spend more than a few minutes out there before getting cold and discouraged, giving up and going back inside.

Once again, I found myself in a dissatisfying situation, trying to convince myself I should be happy with what I had, not admitting to myself that it was not what I wanted… and I lived there for 3.5 years.

When I decided I was going to move to Denver, I made a list of non-negotiables for my next home - and porch was right at the top - but even after doing this, there were moments where I wavered.

After every house that fell through, I’d look at my list and wonder, “Am I asking for too much?” And inevitably, the next house I’d tour would be missing something major from the list.

At one point, I almost put an offer on a house without a front or back porch, telling myself that I would be okay without it.

I mean, let’s be real - I would have been okay.

But it wouldn’t have been what I actually, truly wanted. It wouldn’t have been the thing that would make me endlessly happy.

This week the weather has been warming up, and I’ve been sitting on my front porch with the gliding bench that looks out over the trees… and my private balcony porch off my bedroom… and my back porch with the gorgeous sunset view… and every single time I am on any of the stunning porches of my new home I sit there, and breathe, and cry.

Why did I deny myself this happiness for so long?

Why did I ever think that anything that did not move me to tears with happiness was ever “good enough?”

I send myself compassion in these moments, because of course I know the answer to these why questions - I am human, and I do the best I can, and we all deny ourselves happiness in so many ways - but I also try to learn from these moments.

I wish that back in 2015 I would have recognized that look in Elizabeth’s face, and leaned into possibility.

I wish I would have decided right then that my life and my home would always feature beautiful porches, because these outdoor spaces are so deeply important to me.

But I can’t go back in the past and give myself the permission to lean into happiness that way.

What I can do, is commit to my happiness going forward.

I can commit to always having porches in my life.

I can commit to continuing to look for the other one million ways that I block my happiness and start to say yes and lean into the places I’ve previously told myself no.

And… I can commit to reflecting to others the importance of choosing their happiness, in small ways and large.

Because we all deserve to live on beautiful porches, or whatever your version of this is.

We all deserve to choose happiness.