Making feeling good my new “normal” doesn’t mean I don’t cry anymore.

It doesn’t mean I never get stressed. And it doesn’t mean shitty things don’t happen to me sometimes.

It just means that these days I have an expectation that I will enjoy most of what happens in my life and will spend a majority of my time feeling reasonably happy.

It means that if I get a funny feeling in my stomach that something is off, or I’m not enjoying what’s going on, I. can allow myself a moment to pause and ask myself if there is another way? If there is something different I could be doing to get back to a place that feels good?

And when things really go off tangent, and there isn’t an easy(ish) answer to bring myself back to the good stuff immediately, I have much more confidence that it is a blip. It will pass. Normal service will resume and I will be back to the good stuff again at some point.

Good has become my normal. Enjoyment is my north star.

Even if I’m lost for a little bit it’s my guiding post to find my way back there again.

It hasn’t always been like this. At 25 I’d spent nearly half a lifetime in cycles of depression.

I was scared to be happy. As lovely as the good moments were, I would live in terror that too much happiness would mean the next fall would be even more painful than the last. As much I wanted happiness, I could never allow myself to fully enjoy it, so sure it always had an expiration date.

Yet when I was in the deepest darkest corners of depression the thing that kept me alive, or pulled me back after attempts to end it all had failed, was some kind of inbuilt survival instinct.

It was like there was something within me that knew there was such thing as an enjoyable and happy life, and was always trying to nudge me towards it. But there was another part of me – a doubt in my mind – that couldn’t believe that was true. It had decided happiness was temporary and the darkness would always be waiting somewhere around the corner.

Then nine years ago something changed. Or rather I felt like I had to change something. Or maybe a bit of both.

I have no idea what made that episode of depression special. What it was that made me so certain that it could, and would, be my last episode.

It wasn’t a magical transition. The episode had been particularly bad. It left me feeling I’d lost all sense of who I was. Like I couldn’t grasp on to what made me “me” anymore. To the outside world I looked, acted and sounded like me, but something had disappeared and I had no idea how to get that feeling back.

But for some reason I felt compelled to put one foot in front of the other. Keeping moving forward, even though I had no idea which direction to go in.

There were milestones along the way. My depression had been roughly in 18 month cycles of “life isn’t too bad” to “what’s the point in living” and back again.

So getting through the first 18 months without heading back into the darkness was huge. I might not have been on top of the world, but to not be in the depths of despair was probably the biggest moment in all of it. It made it worth trying.

And then somewhere between two and three years I felt a glimmer of what I had lost. A sense that I had been reunited with what made me “me” once again.

I didn’t get to that point (or this point) alone. At the beginning I had a fantastic CBT therapist who helped me take my first wobbly steps into my new reality. And of course I had family and friends, many of whom probably didn’t know the extent of what was going on, but whose presence in my life made things easier.

And I had my three beautiful nieces. My biggest reasons for not giving up on the hardest days. And as I see them growing into amazing women, each with their own unique and wonderful personalities, I am so so so grateful for the part of me that refused to give up so I could be a part of their lives.

Then seven years ago I met my now hubby. And despite my mental messiness he decided I was fun to be around (and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t that fun because our first 18 months together I was going through endometriosis hell… I was a walking zombie half the time!) He has done the most amazing job of supporting and encouraging me to enjoy being who I am. He’s believed in me and stuck with me through some really shitty and difficult moments.

It was only in 2014, around the six year mark of being depression free, I finally felt confident that I could navigate life without falling into the black hole that I really started to tackle the next layer… anxiety.

Through all those years my anxiety had gradually lessened, but from time to time a bad patch would gradually creep up on me. Until then it had been my warning sign that would stop my plummeting into the depths of depression, but in late 2014 I was ready to say goodbye to that too. I had proved to myself I could live depression free, now it was time to give anxiety the heave ho too.

And in that decision I had tons more support. Again family, friends and my wonderful husband. It was also the time in my life I connected to other women in sisterhoods and experienced support and acceptance that has played such a huge part in believing I can have a happy and enjoyable life.

Things had generally been increasingly positive until two years ago when I gave birth to my beautiful, wonderful and amazing daughter. It was one of the toughest times in all of these past nine years. I teetered on the edge of the darkness once again, but was determined not to plunge back in. Her first year wasn’t what I had hoped, but the way I responded to it showed me how far I’d come, and it set me up for what I’ve been able to experience this past twelve months.

So looking back on the past nine years has it been worth it?

Yes. Even though there was no overnight fix. Even though it’s been bloody tough at times. Even though it’s taken all these years to get to a place where I really feel like there is something good in every day. Even though to this day I still have crappy moments when the anxiety tries to nip in the back door and catch me off guard.

Because however hard it has been, and even though life isn’t sunshine, rainbows and unicorns every second of every day, it’s never ever been as awful as the thirteen years I spent living with depression.

Because even though it’s taken nine years to get to a point where I know it’s possible to live a life full of love, happiness and joy… those nine years represent 108 months, which in the majority were each a little happier and a little more fun than the last.

It’s not been about a quick fix. It’s just been about reaching for a way of living that’s a little easier than the day before. Literally enjoying each day a little bit more than the last. My good days nine years ago look a lot different to my good days now (a good day then would probably be a pretty shitty day now) BUT I needed every one of those little stepping stones to get to this point.

And I will keep stepping. I will keep reminding myself it’s just about making each day a little better than the one before. No one has to jump from depression to joy overnight to make it worth trying.

About a year ago I had a sense that feeling good could be my new “normal”.

It could be the “norm” for everyone if they wanted it.

Simultaneously I had a sense that I was crazy for thinking that.

With everything shitty happening in world how could I begin to suggest that a majority of life could be “good” or “happy” for everyone.

But just like that moment nine years ago when I knew I wanted to leave depression behind me, I decided this would be my next challenge… to live a life full of love, happiness and joy.

And it has been one hell of a year exploring that. So so so many questions in my head about how all the crappy painful stuff fits into this? And what right did I have to expect my life to be sunshine, rainbows and unicorns most of the time?

This year I’ve learned a ton about myself. I’ve also learned a lot from other people who share the idea that life can be a joyful experience.

I feel a little less crazy than when I first had the idea.

The shitty moments in life consume me a little less and pass a bit quicker.

And although there are still challenges every day brings a little more inner peace and joy to my life.

I have stuck with it. And I’m learning not to apologise for it. To be okay with wanting to love life and love myself.

And to be okay with believing that it might just be possible for everyone else too.