“Happiness is a choice.”
 

What does the phrase “happiness is a choice” mean? Because if you suffer from depression, it’s not really a choice.

Yes, and Abraham Lincoln is sometimes reputed to have said, "A man is as happy as he makes up his mind he wants to be." My grandmother used to trot that one out anytime anyone around her would complain about being unhappy.

Obviously, these kinds of grossly oversimplified, black/white, all/nothing stances don't hold up in real life. There are many, many circumstances that can prevent simply choosing to be happy, including clinical depression, as you pointed out.

However, the underlying kernel of truth is that there is indeed a volitional component to happiness. You owe it to yourself to choose to take whatever actions you can that may contribute to your happiness even if the deck is stacked against you.

There's a reason the Serenity Prayer is so prominent in addiction recovery circles: have the serenity to accept the things I can't change, and the courage to change the things I can.

What changes can you make that would contribute to your happiness?

Weird metaphor that works for me—I have lifelong chronic asthma. I can’t “fix it” and just not have it. But I can choose to work hard at following through with treatment options to alleviate the symptoms. Inhalers, allergy shots, cardiovascular strengthening, avoiding triggers, etc. I can also choose to find hobbies that are safer for me, like dancing indoors instead of jogging outdoors. I can choose to embrace a sense of self-worth based on my career, or kindness to others, or brains rather than how athletic I am.

Life can be incredibly unfair and send you things that make it harder to be happy. We can’t choose not to have depression, or (in my mom’s case) cancer, or (as with my husband) a genetic-predisposition to addiction, or (as with my brother) bipolar tendencies. But there are specific choices we can make for ourselves that can help us feel more empowered, more in touch with who we want to be, happier and healthier.

It’s not perfect, but sometimes it’s enough for me :)

It's prom season. Every spring, I'm reminded of the fact that I never went to a prom. One of my faults is that I have a hard time letting go of old hurts. I was flat-chested, near-sighted, and socially awkward. Not a good combination. One day recently, I remembered more about high school. I remembered Kim, as near-sighted and flat chested as I was. She studied Vogue magazine and re-created the outfits. If no one else in our tiny town was wearing gauchos and midi-skirts, Kim didn't care. She wore them, fearlessly.

And there was Abby, who wanted to be a cheerleader. To say she was uncoordinated would be an understatement. But she did round up a head that could conceivably be our mascot. She approached the faculty advisor, and made a deal: if she sewed the rest of the animal costume, she could be the mascot. That's what she did.

Kim and Abby weren't smarter than I was. Their families weren't more wealthy, their parents weren't more supportive. They chose to do what they could to make their own lives more interesting. (Empowerment wasn't a thing, back in the Seventies) That I didn't choose that route - that's kind of on me.

I am glad that at least around here, all kids are welcome at the prom, whether they have dates of not. It wasn't so 40 years ago.