The Tranquil Vintessa

When I first walked into therapy, I was at one of the lowest points in my life. Everything had fallen apart, and I wasn’t living the life I had imagined. I was lost, hopeless, and alone, facing the darkest chapter I had ever experienced. As I sat in the therapist’s office, slightly hungover from a bender the night before, I was angry and defeated. I was mad that I had to be there, upset that my life had turned out this way, and just hoping it would all be over soon.

My therapist, Rachel, had an energy that was soothing. She didn’t try to lighten the heavy mood, and I appreciated that. She just let me sit in it and asked me how my life had brought me to her office. One moment I was excited to be moving to a new city, and the next I was drinking to blackout because I couldn’t face my reality. It all happened in a blink of an eye. As I sat there, staring at the floor, numb, I told her my story. By that point, I had shared it with so many people, but nothing had changed. I was over it.

Then Rachel asked me something no one else had: “What do you want to happen? What do you want to get out of this?”

I looked up at her and thought for a long time. What did I want?

“I just want to be happy,” I responded.

That one question sent me on a four-year journey to figure out what happiness meant to me. What did my life look like when I put my joy first? I had no idea. I used to think life was just about surviving—saving a few dollars and getting only what I needed. I thought happiness was for those who didn’t have to work, who didn’t have mental health issues or trauma. Happiness felt like a privilege, one that wasn’t meant for people like me. I believed that my life was hard, that people were mean, and that was just how it was. Since I was young, I had been told that two things would always work against me: being Black and being a woman. People would look down on me, so I had to keep my head down, work hard, and maybe find moments of contentment. But real happiness? That wasn’t for me, or so I thought.

As I continued down this road, I ended up getting a puppy. He was small and traumatized, and didn’t trust easily. I remember the woman at the rescue telling me how temperamental and untrusting he was. But when he came out, he jumped straight into my lap as if to say, “This is my person.” From that moment on, we only had each other. At first, he was cautious around me—I was still a stranger—but over time, he began to trust me. I still remember the first time he wagged his tail when I came home from work because he was happy to see me. It still makes me smile.

Over the years, we grew closer. I saw the joy in his eyes, how he found happiness in the simplest things—his bed, a new toy, a walk, or just cuddling on the couch. I wondered to myself, could it really be that simple?

I kept on the path of destruction for a few more months, but eventually, I got tired of being sick and tired. I was over being angry, mean, and hopeless. I was exhausted from not believing in or hoping for anything. It was sad, and I was done with the negativity. I told myself, “I’m just going to be happy.”

But what did happiness look like? What would make me happy? I wrestled with this question because it wasn’t something I could buy with money, and it wasn’t something spiritual—I had tried that and it only filled me with guilt. So, I sat with myself, as I often do when I’m in turmoil, and thought about the person I wanted to be. What would lead me to happiness?

I started doing things I enjoyed and trying new things I never thought I could do. I found time for these things and made them fit into my life. I dressed how I wanted and worked on healing past traumas. I addressed why my self-esteem was so low and why I didn’t like myself. I read books about healing, and some just for fun. I became unapologetically myself. I began mending relationships with people I wanted in my life, working on healing those connections.

After a while, I was ready for a fresh start in a city where no one knew me. So, I moved again. And I stumbled again. But this time, I picked myself up and worked even harder to create the life I wanted. The universe worked in my favor, placing me in the right spaces and rooms I needed to be in. I wasn’t any richer. I wasn’t any more spiritual. But I was much happier. Why? Because I stopped waiting for happiness and started creating it within the life I already had—not some imaginary life I wasn’t living.

Years later, I reached back out to my therapist. During this whole journey, I hadn’t spoken to her—I tend to work on myself in private. When I did, we reflected on that first visit, and I was able to tell her confidently that I was happy. I truly was. And I still am.

My life is wonderful in so many ways—from the nutritious food I eat, to the job I’m grateful to have, to the relationships I cultivate. I am happy because I simply do things I enjoy, and I take pleasure in the little things. So, to answer the question that started it all: yes, happiness really is that simple. You just have to choose it. It’s about doing the small things that make you happy every day, and practicing gratitude regularly.

Happiness is not a destination—it’s right there in front of you, waiting for you to grab it. Sure, there will be lows and there will be highs. No one is telling you to feel only happiness. But if you understand that everything is just a moment in time—some better than others—and meet yourself where you are, you’ll always carry happiness within you.

Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you in the next one.

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