Literally every title I came up with for this post was already taken:
The Happiness Project
The Cult of Happiness
Selling Happiness
The Happiness Agenda
The Happiness Dilemma
Sonofa-
When I dived down the rabbit hole that is The Happiness Project, I traveled from the New York Times best-selling self-help book of that name to the associated website selling merchandise (Storage boxes? Trinket trays? Apparently happiness is closely tied to neatness), an app, and needless to say, the ubiquitous “courses”.
The book (deep breath) The Happiness Project: Or Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun was published in 2012 by Gretchen Rubin, a privileged white lawyer whom one presumes didn’t really have that much to be unhappy about.
But I guess everything’s relative and I shouldn’t judge her mental state from afar.
She also gives me hope that I, too, can be a guru of something one day. I’m not sure of what yet, but give me time.
Cloying, cutesy title aside, I do take umbrage that Rubin turned what people understood to be, and what was clearly presented as, useful tips for improving their inner life into a marketing ploy.
Welcome to America.
My own struggle with happiness started early on. My parents were hard-working and optimistic, so I guess I just got the moody artist gene that shows up without warning and makes kids wear nothing but black and listen to The Smiths.
I realized recently that I have no idea what would make me happy.
When you’re young, happiness comes from the addition of things. Friends, clothes, cars, a good job. Eventually a family of your own, their happiness becoming your happiness.
As you get older, happiness becomes the absence of things. The absence of pain, the absence of overwhelming illness. A roof over your head, enough food to eat (things that never even crossed your mind to equate with happiness when you were younger).
If you and those you love are okay—not even great, but just okay—that’s pretty much the most you can ask for.
But I want to be actively happy. I want to be in the light, where happiness is looking forward, instead of in the shadows, where happiness is looking back.
Here’s a fun fact:
Depressive realism is the hypothesis developed by Lauren Alloy and Lyn Yvonne Abramson that depressed individuals make more realistic inferences than non-depressed individuals. Although depressed individuals are thought to have a negative cognitive bias that results in recurrent, negative automatic thoughts, maladaptive behaviors, and dysfunctional world beliefs, depressive realism argues not only that this negativity may reflect a more accurate appraisal of the world but also that non-depressed individuals' appraisals are positively biased.- Wikipedia
In other words, depressed people are more realistic about life, the universe, and everything.
And non-depressed people are living in a fantasy world where bad things don’t happen to good people, our lives aren’t pointless, and we’re not all going to die and be almost instantly forgotten except for creepy friend suggestions on Facebook when it asks people if they’d like to be friends with you even though you’re dead. (This just happened to me, in case you’re wondering.)
So, I’m a realist. And realists are unhappy.
What’s to be done?
Like somebody hacking a computer, can I brute force my brain into being happy? If I only expose my poor, much-abused gray matter to happy things—like puppies, or pleasing nature videos—can I change my brain?
No drugs, no therapy, no self-help rigamarole or apps. Just a general avoidance of all things unhappy. Living in denial, if you will.
Would that work?
Things that make me happy.
It’s easy to think that money will make you happy and I’d like to try that option if the occasion ever arises. But security isn’t happiness.
And then there’s the problem of short-term versus long-term happiness.
Lots of things would make me happy in the short term. Taking drugs, for instance. Or eating an entire cake. Or spending all of my money on stuff. Things. Like that portable table lamp I saw on The Happiness Project for the low, low price of $99 (zero reviews BUT ONLY 12 LEFT. Really?).
But those things that make Present Me happy might make Future Me unhappy. Basing happiness on a thing or an action (or a person) can backfire badly.
The next thing you know, you’re an overweight drug addict who’s been married three times carrying around a portable lamp. (I’ve only been married twice, so don’t get any ideas.)
The thing that probably makes me happiest is time. Time without an agenda. Time without a list of things to do that steals and warps that time into a source of stress and unhappiness. I’m unhappy because every day is a race to nowhere.
I’m also happiest when I’m not ruminating. (From the Latin ruminari, or chew over. Hence, ruminants, or cows that think deeply. I’m pretty sure that’s right.)
The great enemy of happiness is thinking. That’s why people drink or take drugs or do whatever it takes to stop thinking for a while.
If you can rein in the unhappy thoughts, it follows that happier thoughts will have room to stretch out and grow roots.
I can’t stop thinking about Eric Idle up there on the cross singing Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.
But it’s true. There’s scientific evidence that negative thoughts change your brain. Here’s an interesting article about coping with and deflecting negative thoughts before they can do any damage.
I can’t control everything (a toxic workplace, bad skin, the fact that I’m allergic to trees), but I need to get a grip on my mental state. And I don’t need to pay Gretchen Rubin $129 to do that.
But I could really use a portable lamp.
Great piece! You and I must be some kind of kindred, tortured spirits. One thing I discovered that really changed my perspective: the goal isn't to be happy, it's to be content.
Happiness is by definition fleeting. Contentedness is more lasting. Plus, you can still be a depressed realist and a cynic at the same time.
My view: it's all about biochemistry. I recommend: eat lots of fatty beef and lamb, try microdosing, and never, ever give up your caffeinated coffee! And, maybe...write a self-help book? We could collaborate!!