Why some people get uncomfortable when women are happy.
Tell me if this is something you’ve noticed, suspected, or outright discovered, that there’s this special something about a rested woman. An unbothered spirit, a calm woman or even relatively steady woman that you’d think everyone would celebrate. But apparently, according to some corners of these here interwebs and in real life too, a woman who is genuinely content can make far too many people uncomfortable… strangely angered even.
Honestly, it’s a place I’d happily wallow in forever. But since life insists on life-ing, I’m learning to savor the moments, intentional and random, that I get to experience.
Now back to the grumpies. The ones who no likey women minding their business.
But their discomfort is not ours to manage. Not by explaining it away, shrinking it, or perfectly packaging it up so it goes down a lil sweeter. I firmly believe that a woman sitting comfortably in her happiness is operating in one of her greatest forms of power.
Happiness Isn’t Something You Squeeze In… It’s Not Jeans
I’m finding in myself, and seeing in other fab babes around me (online included), that a happy woman is a woman who has made time for herself. It could be a quick few minutes, some planned hours, or days away on a trip, local or international, the where doesn’t matter, only the doing.
Maybe like me you have people you can lean on. A community that shows up, and yes, a community can be two or three of you. Or maybe at this time you’re your own trusted community… and that works too. This woman, you, me, she has hobbies, interests, and little things that belong only to her. She has joy that isn’t dependent on somebody else’s mood or say so. And the most rigid part of it all is that she’s intentional with it. Her happiness doesn’t fit in where it can, instead other things, let’s call those, foolishness and fuckery, got kicked out to make room.
And pump ya breaks, because no, this isn’t a banshee call to abandon people or become some hella selfish, isolated queen. Quite the opposite. It’s a reminder for us women to not just cling to the little happiness we have, but to actively and greedily keep searching for more of it, and lock it in a death-grip. In our Big Age, we more than know that if we’re not careful, if we get complacent, slowly we’ll start handing it away piece by piece trying to keep everyone else comfortable.
Stop Keeping the Peace. Keep Your Peace
“Say it with me, I won’t keep the peace. I’m keeping my peace.”
A woman who has found happiness, even if she’s only just beginning to discover it, stops trying to keep the peace and starts protecting her peace.
Now, is she a little delulu with it sometimes? Possibly. Read: yes, in my case.
I realize that I need to keep rebuilding the guard rails around my happiness. This is work. They need constant maintenance and hell, fortifying. This ain’t no one-and-done project, let me tell you. Something or someone always tries to test my happiness, break it down, or convince me it’s a waste of time to work so hard at it. I mean, look at the work. But they are more than welcome to play around with their happiness. I’m not playing around with mine. We all know the next set of bullshit is already peeking right around the corner, and aside from the devastating situations we truly can’t control, the rest has to be managed.
We’re pausing before stepping into unnecessary drama. We’re asking ourselves whether something deserves a “yes” or if it deserves a firm and glorious “absolutelythefuck not.” We’ll give things a try. If they work, brilliant. If they don’t, we keep it moving. Lessons were learned, stories were gained, but our happiness remains intact.
People Will Adjust. Or They Won’t.
And either way… we don’t give a diddly-damn.
Something interesting happens when a woman finds that happiness and commits to it. Some things that once seemed impossible don’t feel as unreachable anymore. Old wants and even dreams suddenly look doable, just in a different flavor from the original. Six months with the Bolshoi might have your back screaming you’ve lost your damn Gen X mind, but joining that local dance class doesn’t. Finishing that book doesn’t. Taking the trip, starting the business, wearing the outfit or changing your mind doesn’t.
And I’ll say it again, we’re not concerned who notices.
If the way you wear your happiness gives others the ick, fuck ‘em.
So they’ll look at you strangely at times. Unable to put their finger on what’s different, why, and why now. A woman who’s found her happiness is louder and quieter. She laughs more and also thinks deeply, too. She says a bunch of yeses and a shit-ton of no’s, too. What, they can’t figure you out? Can’t pull you into old roles and versions of you that were easier for them. That’s exactly the point, babe.
Don’t let their confusion become your disruption. Protect your peace. Grow your happiness. Boundaries up, babe!
While you, your community, and your happiness continue the work to shine bright, the others will either adjust or drift away. Not everybody is meant to accompany every version of you.
Imagine if we’d known this all along?
It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok… we know… or are catching up, now.
