My partner said something last week that I keep thinking about. “I’m proud of you for choosing happiness.”

I don’t think anyone has ever said something like that to me before. I’ve had friends, family members, romantic partners in the past say they were proud of me for various things, sure. School and work accomplishments. Physical and athletic accomplishments. But to have someone be proud of me for…choosing myself? Choosing to be happy? Honestly, I don’t think so.

If anything, moments where I’ve prioritized happiness over the things we’re “supposed” to chase (eg, respectable careers and salaries, wedding rings, white picket fences), have often created rifts for me. When I left New York in 2013, I lost multiple friends. It was something I was choosing to do for myself, but it was obvious others saw it as me abandoning them, or doing something crazy/stupid. Who moves 3,000 miles away from everyone they know, alone? Someone I considered one of my best friends at the time explicitly said “Fine, go the fuck to California.” My dad told me, “When you decide to come home, I’m not going to help you.” When, not if.

That move out of New York to San Diego has long been something I consider one of the most pivotal moments in my life, and one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’ve written more about that previously here, but part of why that decision was so pivotal is because it was the first time I choose something, for me, because I wanted it, and it sounded good, and then I went and did it. And it made me happy. Even though I don’t live in San Diego anymore and don’t have any plans to permanently return (I will take all of the SoCal visits, however!) – and I am still so grateful for that choice, and that I didn’t let the naysayers sway me. It taught me that it was not only okay, but GOOD to take leaps of faith and do things that were maybe a little scary, because if I wanted it then it was worth it. That move also helped me rediscover my love of the outdoors. I found community in hiking, in photography. I grew my passion for art. I started healing in ways I didn’t know before then that I had needed. Because I chose to be happy.

It feels pretty great to have people in my life now who also support that pursuit of happiness for me. To know that arbitrary metrics of success aren’t what make me valuable to them. That my income, my work title, my aesthetics – that those things are not what define me to the people who matter.

And honestly, the more I double down on happiness, on the choosing and pursuit of it – the more I find it. Which isn’t to say that the pursuit of happiness makes things easy. Working full time while also spending pretty much full time hours at the tattoo shop for my apprenticeship (and trying to stay on top of errands, maintaining at least a shadow of a social life, and attempting to stay on top of training for a Marathon) is just about as opposite of easy as I can imagine. But happiness doesn’t have to be easy to be good or worthwhile. I know that eventually I will be able to transition to mostly, and then only tattooing. I’m proud of myself for the work I’m putting in now, and will continue to put in, because I desperately want what will come from it. And I’m proud of myself for choosing this. Happiness.

And damn if that doesn’t feel good.