Ah, the pursuit of happiness. The cosmic joke. The dangling carrot we all chase like overworked donkeys, convinced that one day we’ll catch it. Spoiler alert: we don’t. And if by some miracle we do, we immediately drop it and start chasing another one, because heaven forbid we just sit still and be. We want to look in the mirror, see ourselves, and think, “Alright, sis, you’re doing okay.” But nope—life’s not having that. Instead, we’re caught in this endless game of shadowboxing, swinging wildly at issues we can’t quite name while wondering if we’re the sane ones in a world that feels like a social experiment gone horribly wrong.
Take St. Louis, for example. Living here is like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube while blindfolded. There’s the charm of toasted ravioli and gooey butter cake on one side, and the existential dread of city politics, systemic racism, and potholes that feel like portals to another dimension on the other. You’re constantly balancing gratitude for the good moments with the sheer exhaustion of existing in a place that sometimes feels like it’s conspiring against your peace of mind. And that’s just Tuesday.
And let’s not forget how life loves to blindside you with its little curveballs. Loss, heartbreak, trauma—they show up like uninvited guests at your party, leaving you to clean up the mess they made while everyone else pretends not to notice. You adjust because what else can you do? But those adjustments come at a cost. Your brain rewires itself, your heart grows a thicker skin, and before you know it, you’re looking at the world through a lens that feels sharper, heavier. You notice things you didn’t before. Things that make you pause, cringe, or just plain hurt.
That’s when the real kicker comes: growth. It sounds noble, doesn’t it? Evolving, leveling up, all that good stuff. But no one tells you that growth is lonely. You start seeing patterns in relationships you used to ignore. You realize some people in your life aren’t growing with you. And oh, that’s a gut punch. You want to shake them, yell, “Come on, we were supposed to do this together!” But they don’t move, and you have to make a choice: stay and stagnate or move forward and feel like a traitor.
And unconditional love? Let’s talk about that for a second. It’s cute on paper, isn’t it? Sounds like a Hallmark card. But in practice, it’s messy. It’s watching someone you care about make choices you wouldn’t, at a pace that makes you want to scream, and loving them anyway. It’s setting down your ego, swallowing your pride, and realizing that meeting someone where they are doesn’t mean staying stuck yourself. It’s not easy. It feels like betrayal sometimes—like letting them off the hook while you’re doing all the work. But here’s the hard truth: you’re not responsible for their journey. That gravelly pill? Choke it down, sis.
And yet, here we are. The bitter irony of healing is that it doesn’t make life easier—it just changes the way you experience the mess. You don’t get to skip the pain, but maybe you learn to carry it differently. Some days, you’ll feel like a warrior. Other days, you’ll feel like you’re back at square one, sitting in your car, ugly crying over the latest reminder that life is chaos and no one has it figured out.
So maybe the pursuit of happiness isn’t about catching the carrot. Maybe it’s about learning to laugh at the absurdity of the chase. To accept that sometimes you’re the wise sage and sometimes you’re the hot mess. To embrace the chaos and know that, honestly, you’re already doing better than you think. St. Louis potholes, heartbreaks, and all.