MSI Press Blog

  Most of us grow up believing happiness is something we find —a lucky convergence of circumstances, relationships, and timing. But the older we get, the more obvious it becomes: happiness isn’t discovered, it’s built . And the building happens inside, not outside. A deeper sense of happiness isn’t a mood. It’s a stance toward life. It’s the quiet confidence that you are living in alignment with who you are, what you value, and how you want to move through the world. Below are a few pathways toward that deeper, steadier form of happiness—paths that echo some of the insights from Husain’s Road Map to Power , which emphasizes inner agency, clarity of purpose, and the discipline of choosing your life rather than drifting through it. 1. Stop outsourcing your emotional center A surprising amount of unhappiness comes from giving other people too much power over our internal state. We wait for approval, validation, or reassurance. We let someone else’s mood dictate our own. A deepe...

  Today's shared blog post comes from Franki Bagdade, author of the award-winning book,  I Love My Kids, But I Don't Always Like Them . This week, Franki discusses  The Shame Inside The ADHD Brain . For more posts by and about Franki, click  HERE . Book Description: Selected as Independent Authors' Network Book of the Year as the Outstanding Parenting Book and winner of the Literary Titan Gold Award, I Love My Kids, But I Don't Always Like Them, is the ultimate survival guide for parents living through one of the strangest times in history. This " how to guide" will support you even if you are exhausted and burnt out in improving your child(ren)'s behavior. Written by an expert with 20 years of experience in behavioral observation in the classroom, in overnight camp, and more. Franki's storyteller cadence helps the book to read as if it's a casual conversation and pep talk between two parents over coffee. Franki is raw, authentic, and honest about ...

  For Him: The Late Bloom of Feeling He spent decades mastering control. Stoicism was his armor. He knew how to fix things, how to provide, how to endure. But feelings? Feelings were for later. For quieter moments. For someone else to name. And then, one day, the armor cracked. Maybe it was grief. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was the quiet ache of watching his children grow into people he barely recognized. Maybe it was the silence after retirement, when the noise of purpose faded and something tender began to speak. He didn’t expect the flood. The tears that came unbidden. The memories that stung. The joy that felt too big for his chest. He didn’t expect to feel everything he’d been holding back. But he did. And he’s still learning. Learning that vulnerability isn’t weakness. That naming a feeling doesn’t make it louder—it makes it bearable. That the heart doesn’t age the way the body does. It waits. It remembers. It forgives. He’s not late. He’s right on time.   a post...