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Happiness, to me, isn’t a presence. It’s an absence. The absence of Worry. Of fear. Of sadness. Of the thoughts and compulsions that directed my life for so long.
Memory of pain is often worse than the pain itself. It drives us. What we do or don’t do, embrace or fear, repeat or avoid at all costs—all of that is dictated by our memory of pain.
The result is remarkable; the more I plan my future, the less time I have to worry. The less time I have to obsess over other things, scarier things, things less grounded in reality.
