The Happiness Complex

Over the past year or so, I've become fascinated by what is considered "positive psychology." I often say we only get one shot at this life, so it is imperative to make the most of it. I don't want to look back and find my years tainted endemically with sour, bitter unhappiness. I want happiness to be the prevailing factor.

Which, truly, is tough for me. Somewhere along the way, I fell into the habit of pinning happiness to the end of success, on scales large and small. I don't think I used to process life events this way; I remember someone telling me once I had the greatest propensity for joy of anyone he had ever known. I took pride in that. Perhaps I had just never had anything negative happen to me, though, at that point in my life. When things became challenging, when I felt those most important had lost faith in me, I gave up. Threw my hands in the air in exasperation. Felt like a failure because didn't meet my expectations, and allowed that to bring me down.

Then I became determined to never fail, because it hurt. And if (heaven forbid) I did? Self flagellate. Berate. You aren't good enough. You aren't good enough to be better. You aren't good enough to pursue the things you want. You, you, you. Place the onus on yourself, because you should be able to control your universe to benefit your own good intentions.

Commence the aim to always succeed. Make yourself more... miserable. Do things... amazing things. Be a parent. Be a wife. Be a mom/wife who swim bike runs her way back into health after having a baby only nine months before. But don't be happy with the process. Don't be happy with who you are along the way. You can always be better, and shouldn't be happy until you are better.

STOP THE MADNESS. Just... effing... stop it. NOW.

I'm hungry. We're all hungry. But what are we hungry for? Are we hungry for happiness? Hungry for success?

Change your approach. In everything.

Over the past year, I've been inundated with videos, books, movies, documentaries... everything media... telling me to make the choice to be happy. From Ann Voskamp to TED talk after TED talk, from the documentary Happy to every single blessed article about meditation, and even sports psychology tidbits... EVERYTHING I'VE READ SAYS TO LET THE OUTCOME GO.

Wait... what? Isn't that the most important thing, the outcome of my efforts? It used to make my brain nearly implode, rethinking how I approach the world and the things I want to do. "Let us not grow weary in doing good..." What is good? Isn't the process good? It shapes the outcome. Why not enjoy it?

We westerners... we let the weather influence how we feel about things. We allow our possessions to tell us who we are and how we feel about ourselves and alter our self-projection upon the world.

I (desperately) want to be a better, happier mother. I recently (recently? heck... this morning...) made the connection that an easy (easy? no... simple... yes.) way to be kinder, to be happier, is to be happy with the process of parenting. I can't perpetually be irritated because I correct the same things every single day. I can't let the process make me grumpy, hard hearted. Change the way my mind fields issues...

I'd always like to be faster on the bike. I'd like to be stronger. I'd like to be a better wife. I'd like to change the world. I'd like to be a better homechef. I'd like to make macarons without fear of the failure that would certainly ensue if I endeavor to make those shifty little cookies with the wonderful reward at the end. Maybe life is like baking macarons?

But what happens when I reach those goals, if I'm not happy with the journey to those goals. Success is a moving target, always escaping onto the horizon. Don't allow the chase to become a mere struggle. Success should be a celebration of happy tinkering, a moment's gratefulness for the moments that led to the culmination. Success is good, and worth striving for, but not at the sacrifice of happiness along the trail.

I had a breakthrough moment yesterday afternoon. I've recently been revisiting running, simply for the sake of running. I don't care how fast I am... I won't ever win any races on foot. But yesterday was a reminder of why I prefer the bike. Running is a cruel mistress. She breaks me, makes me want to puke, in a way the bike just doesn't. So I had a crappy run. I walked a lot at the end... but instead of pouting... instead of beating myself up... I practiced what I've been working so, so hard on. I chose to be happy. I chose to be gentle with myself. I chose to take the circumstances and make them positive. I walked along, enjoying the spring day. I picked flowers on the side of the road and brought them home. I put them in a pretty glass full of water, stretched, and said to myself:

"Self, running isn't your thing anymore. But that doesn't make it not worthwhile. It's fun. It's an adventure. It isn't always going to go well, but make the most of it anyway."

In that moment, I did something new... I chose not to berate myself. Because really, who cares if I had a crappy workout and had to walk? And what's mental self abuse going to accomplish anyway???

But isn't that like life in general? I'm going to have bad days as a parent, as a cyclist, in the gym, in my interactions with other people, as a wife, as a blogger, as a wannabe chef, as a yogi, as a dog owner. I'm going to fail. You're going to fail. But those failures... they don't have to be bad. They don't have to be the defining moments of our daysweeksmonthsyearsLIVES. I always tell Hobbes he can do things with a happy heart and mind or a grumpy one... I need to take my own advice.