I don't always know what I'm supposed to be doing, but I'm always doing something.

And, well, I'm very proud of that.

I'd even contend that "showing up" is boast-worthy even if

your presence is lackluster,

your effort isn't at its max,

you are feeling meek and uninspired,

or the result involves you screwing up and making one (or many) mistakes.

For quite a few of my early adult years, I confused

material things with happiness,

accolades (or a paycheck) as the only reward for success,

success as having a big house, lots of things, and being rich,

rich as having a lot of [fake] friends,

perfection as utterly desirable,

and, well,

joy as being the result of being admired and endeared by many.

By now, though, I've wisened up.

While I STILL don't always know what I'm supposed to be doing, I'm STILL always doing something, and well, that is something I'm STILL very proud of.

Because --

showing up each morning to parent when you are exhausted;

showing up to work despite a rough morning at home with the spouse or kids;

showing up somewhere and giving your attention to people -- clients, students or strangers -- outside of yourself and your loved ones;

showing up for a meeting or an activity despite any preengagement anxiousness and fear;

showing up to speak in front of a crowd of strangers when the mere sight of them makes the introvert inside of you want to crawl into your skin;

showing up on any given morning in full dress and makeup even though you would have preferred to remain unshowered and in your sweats;

-- showing up and doing a thing, anything,

like grabbing surprise donuts with the kids on the way to school,

taking an hour to write an article,

going to the gym,

bagging and donating some of your old clothes,

or even answering a phone call when you'd prefer a text,

it's all form of showing up -- for ourselves, those we care about and for things we deem necessary or important.

For so many of my early adult years, I confused

material things with happiness,

accolades as the only reward for success,

success as being rich,

rich as having a lot of [fake] friends,

perfection as desirable,

and, well,

joy as being endeared by many.

But, now, in my mid-thirties, I've got clarity, and I know that

material things can and will never be the root of my happiness and that, quite the opposite, they may impede it;

that praise isn't what I need, but rather what I need to be giving as I honor and celebrate the blessed life I have;

success is being moderately happy, the majority of the time, as a woman in transformation, who is in a healthy relationship and who is raising good humans;

rich as regularly making meaningful connections;

imperfection as authentic and therefore desirable,

and, well,

joy as being loved by a husband, three kids, and two dogs.

I don't always know what I'm supposed to be doing, but that's okay, because I'm still doing something, like showing up, and in life, that's the bravest thing you can do.

You show up in a million little ways each day, but are you giving yourself for it?

You should be.