Wholeness, Not Happiness: The Path to Living Authentically

The sky doesn’t choose between sun and clouds and neither should we. Wholeness means making space for every part of our emotional weather.

Many of us were taught to chase happiness as the ultimate goal. We want the people we love to feel joy, delight, ease. Of course we do.

If we are parents, that often translates into wanting a happy child. If we are not, it may show up in the way we encourage friends, partners, or even ourselves to “just be happy.” But what happens when happiness becomes the only goal?

For some, this longing runs even deeper. If you grew up without your needs being met, emotionally, physically, or relationally, you may carry a fierce vow to give others what you did not have. And if you do not remember your own childhood as happy, the drive to make sure someone else’s is can become even stronger.

This is beautiful in intention. But there is a hidden risk. We might curate experiences toward happiness while unintentionally sidelining the other parts of our humanity. Sad parts. Angry parts. Anxious parts. Unmotivated parts. Awkward parts. The ones that grieve, protest, or stumble.

These are not flaws to erase. They are part of the fabric of being human. They teach empathy, resilience, and self-understanding. If we rush to replace them with a smile, we may be teaching, without meaning to, that some parts are welcome and others are not.

This can also show up in the way we define and distort certain values. Gratitude, for example, can be a powerful practice of presence and perspective. Yet when it is used to silence or override discomfort, it can become another way of exiling parts of ourselves. Complaining can be labeled as weakness or negativity, when in truth it is often an early signal of a need going unmet. When we condemn complaining without curiosity, we lose the opportunity to understand what that part of us is asking for.

When the goal is happiness, what happens to the child or the adult who does not feel happy? We can begin to see our sadness, anger, or confusion as personal failures. We can believe something is wrong with us simply because we do not embody the feeling we have been told is the goal.

This is where it is worth asking. What does it mean to support a healthy human being, whether that is a child, a partner, a friend, or ourselves?

Health is not just physical milestones or the absence of illness. It includes emotional and mental well-being. It is the capacity to navigate disappointment, conflict, and change without losing connection to oneself. If our definition of health is too narrow, we risk creating lives that feel good only in fair weather.

This is at the heart of what Dr. Dan Siegel describes in The Whole-Brain Child. He talks about integration, which is the process of welcoming and weaving together different parts of the brain and self so that no single part dominates or gets exiled.

It is also related to the premise of The Happiness Trap. This book challenges the cultural myth that constant happiness is the sign of a good life. Instead, it invites us to make space for the full range of human experiences while staying anchored in what matters most.

For me, this work is personal. When I became a parent, I carried both joy and fear. The joy of meeting my children. The fear of repeating cycles I knew I wanted to break.

I wanted my children, especially their weird and wild parts, to feel welcomed. I wanted their expressive parts to be celebrated, not called “too dramatic” or “too sensitive,” as I can remember being. I wanted them to know their needs mattered. That they mattered.

I also wanted them to know presence and pleasure. To feel the freedom of play. To experience rest as something vital, not something earned. In my own childhood, I learned to earn love through productivity. My worth felt tied to what I could do, how good I could be, how much I could accomplish. Goodness was measured.

I want them to know goodness simply is. That they are worthy just because they are here. That doing has its place, but being is just as essential.

And that is not only my hope for my children. It is the heart of my work at You Matter Holistic Healing. The belief that all parts of you matter. Your feelings, your needs, your wants, your desires. Your joy and your grief. Your rest and your striving.

Nature offers a perfect reminder. Here in New England, no one expects the weather to be the same every day. We prepare for change, sometimes sudden change. The sky can move from bright blue to heavy gray in an afternoon, and both are simply part of the cycle. Why would we expect our inner climate to be any different?

Our moods shift. Our feelings roll in and out like weather fronts. They are not errors in the system. They are part of the system.

When we create environments, at home, in relationships, and within ourselves, where all emotional “weather” is met with safety and acceptance, we give permission for the whole self to develop.

This is not only about how we support others. It is also about how we support ourselves. We are both child and parent to ourselves. We carry the child parts shaped by our own lived experiences. We also serve as the caregiver, leader, and guide for our present and future self.

The way we respond to our own sadness, anger, confusion, and joy will shape our sense of wholeness just as much as it would for anyone in our care.

Wholeness holds it all. It honors joy and grief, clarity and confusion, light and shadow. Supporting wholeness, in ourselves and in those we love, plants seeds for a life that is not only happy in moments, but also grounded, resilient, and deeply human.

If you are ready to move beyond chasing happiness and begin cultivating wholeness, I would love to walk alongside you. In our work together, all parts of you are welcome. We will make space for your joy and your grief, your clarity and your confusion, your being and your doing.

Because you matter. All of you.

Schedule a session or learn more here.