Happiness is not a word that I generally associate with my life or myself. To me life has always been about what I must do for others. What was expected out of me. What I was and wasn’t allowed to do, think or even feel. Somewhere along the timeline of my childhood happiness was put in a box and stuffed somewhere deep in the metaphorical closet of my self. It was in my 20s that I first approached a mental health provider with the first of a long list of questions. She showed me that my happiness was my responsibility.