The Problem With Being Happy
Sometimes life sucks. It can kick you right in the gonads, usually on a Wednesday when you are still just a little too far from the weekend to drown the pain with a night with the local brew slinger. You just have to suck it up and muddle through till the worst is over or a new difficulty pops up to stress about. Typically that shows up sometime Thursday morning, or if you’re having a really bad week, it’s Friday at 4:30 when you were just getting ready to bail. We’ve all been there. We can sympathize.
But then sometimes life doesn’t suck at all. Not even a little bit. How do you fix that?
I’ve been having a really good run recently. Great job, loving and beautiful girlfriend, relaxing sunny Florida lifestyle. Life is pretty darn awesome, and let’s face it, that’s exactly the sort of shit that annoys the hell out of people.
I can be irritatingly happy. I’m effusive about topics that excite me and gesture a lot. I ramble on about books or writing or the flavor of my gelato. “Isn’t this just the best pistachio you’ve ever had? You need to taste it again.”
It’s super annoying. I even irritate my own awesome girlfriend. We recently had a conversation that basically boiled down to, “Nathan, I realize you’re having a great day (again) but can you tone it down a little?”
I have trouble toning it down.
It’s not a problem people necessarily think about often, but we deal with it all the time. When we listen to a happy couple saying their vows on the altar and hear, “For better or for worse,” we usually think about, “for worse.” Will she be the kind of wife who sticks by him when he loses his job? Will he be there for her when she’s sick in bed? We don’t necessarily dwell on the “for better.” Will she be there in the stands for him when his softball team wins the championship? Will he be happy for her when she gets promoted and starts earning more money than him?
Better can be challenging. It’s not just relationships. It’s also why Facebook is such hell. “Seriously, Sue? You went to Maui this week? What tropical island/mountain view/whitewater rafting trip will you be posting from next week? And Jenny, what is this, your third Pinterest perfect child? Of course they all had to come out with dimples. You couldn’t have had just one ugly kid? Frank, I don’t even want to see your updates anymore. If you post one more video of your dog using the toilet, you’re getting blocked. Make that deleted. #stoprubbingitin, jerk.
I think sympathy comes easier than empathy in that respect. It feels natural to want to pick someone up when they fall. We want to help each other climb back from failures. But how do you help someone who is already having a great life? And why do we sometimes get the urge to sweep the legs out from under them and bring them back down to our level?
Feeling a part of someone else’s happiness is a tough job. It takes some selflessness to not want to compare or to qualify the successes of others. “Yeah, He interviewed well for the job, but his dad has worked for the company for years . . .”
In a modern world that seems to equate happiness with current number of successes, does that make us less empathetic to others around us? Do we feel we are somehow diminished by their accomplishments? What are we so worried about? There is really no chance of us doing that proposal/music video/dance-off better than the one our buddy just got 3 million hits on.
I feel it is definitely a topic worth thinking about. It certainly takes sensitivity to know when others around you are having a rough day and that maybe now is not the best moment to bring up your latest: Hole in one/Annual bonus/Halo high score. But I think it’s equally important to recognize when someone could really use a heartfelt congratulations on their hard work without having it qualified. It’s okay to really mean it. We are actually allowed to enjoy the successes of others.
When I was a kid, my grandparents would sit around the dinner table for hours with drinks in their hands, smoking the occasional cigarette and telling stories. You got the impression that some of those tales were well worn from retellings, but for me they were new and enchanting. Here were people who had such full lives. They had so many stories! I envied their adventures and the friends and relatives who flocked to the table to share them. It didn’t matter if the material was dated. Friends were there just to listen and occasionally jump in with their own highlights and additions.
In the modern world of instant access and blazing update speeds, we have the means to share just about anything. Why is it then that the stories are so short? We can’t be bothered to look through a whole photo album. You’d better put those vacation photos in a collage if you plan a get a click from my like button. Your status requires me to click on something to read all of it? Nah, I’ve got way too much on my newsfeed to be bothered with that. There’s a video of a cat on a trampoline just down a bit and it already started playing . . .
Maybe that’s why we have such a hard time experiencing the happiness of others. Maybe we just don’t want to give them enough of our time. Maybe we think we know the story already because we saw that collage.
It’s enough to make you awkward in public. If a status update from yesterday is old news, how much more stale will our retelling of it be when we get to see our friends in person. Will we have to worry about boring them with a story we already “told?” Do they already know what’s going on in our lives? How much did they read? They did hit that like button, right?
I miss being regaled. I want someone to tell me about their happiness and let me really get into it. I want a story that involves a lead-in story just so I have the context. It would be nice to have that be the new normal someday. I need a regale me button. If I had it I would want to use it to let my friends know that not only am I proud of them and their life accomplishments, I am looking forward to having them tell me about it in detail at the next available opportunity.
This week I had two friends call me on the phone to congratulate me because they saw a post about some progress I made with my writing. They actually called me on the phone. Blew me away. Totally made my week.
That’s going to be my new outlet for my excess energy. I’m going to gesture a little less and listen a little longer. I’m going to make some calls. Spread my current happiness around so I don’t accidentally drown my girlfriend in it. But first I’m going to tell people how excited I am for them doing all the stuff they’re doing, even if it’s a story they already told. I’m going to mean it. I’m going to try to compare less and honestly get excited that Frank has put an end to his days of picking up dog poop. Good for you, Frank. Good for you. You’ll have to tell me how you did it sometime. Sounds like it could have the makings of a good story . . .
But then sometimes life doesn’t suck at all. Not even a little bit. How do you fix that?
I’ve been having a really good run recently. Great job, loving and beautiful girlfriend, relaxing sunny Florida lifestyle. Life is pretty darn awesome, and let’s face it, that’s exactly the sort of shit that annoys the hell out of people.
I can be irritatingly happy. I’m effusive about topics that excite me and gesture a lot. I ramble on about books or writing or the flavor of my gelato. “Isn’t this just the best pistachio you’ve ever had? You need to taste it again.”
It’s super annoying. I even irritate my own awesome girlfriend. We recently had a conversation that basically boiled down to, “Nathan, I realize you’re having a great day (again) but can you tone it down a little?”
I have trouble toning it down.
It’s not a problem people necessarily think about often, but we deal with it all the time. When we listen to a happy couple saying their vows on the altar and hear, “For better or for worse,” we usually think about, “for worse.” Will she be the kind of wife who sticks by him when he loses his job? Will he be there for her when she’s sick in bed? We don’t necessarily dwell on the “for better.” Will she be there in the stands for him when his softball team wins the championship? Will he be happy for her when she gets promoted and starts earning more money than him?
Better can be challenging. It’s not just relationships. It’s also why Facebook is such hell. “Seriously, Sue? You went to Maui this week? What tropical island/mountain view/whitewater rafting trip will you be posting from next week? And Jenny, what is this, your third Pinterest perfect child? Of course they all had to come out with dimples. You couldn’t have had just one ugly kid? Frank, I don’t even want to see your updates anymore. If you post one more video of your dog using the toilet, you’re getting blocked. Make that deleted. #stoprubbingitin, jerk.
I think sympathy comes easier than empathy in that respect. It feels natural to want to pick someone up when they fall. We want to help each other climb back from failures. But how do you help someone who is already having a great life? And why do we sometimes get the urge to sweep the legs out from under them and bring them back down to our level?
Feeling a part of someone else’s happiness is a tough job. It takes some selflessness to not want to compare or to qualify the successes of others. “Yeah, He interviewed well for the job, but his dad has worked for the company for years . . .”
In a modern world that seems to equate happiness with current number of successes, does that make us less empathetic to others around us? Do we feel we are somehow diminished by their accomplishments? What are we so worried about? There is really no chance of us doing that proposal/music video/dance-off better than the one our buddy just got 3 million hits on.
I feel it is definitely a topic worth thinking about. It certainly takes sensitivity to know when others around you are having a rough day and that maybe now is not the best moment to bring up your latest: Hole in one/Annual bonus/Halo high score. But I think it’s equally important to recognize when someone could really use a heartfelt congratulations on their hard work without having it qualified. It’s okay to really mean it. We are actually allowed to enjoy the successes of others.
When I was a kid, my grandparents would sit around the dinner table for hours with drinks in their hands, smoking the occasional cigarette and telling stories. You got the impression that some of those tales were well worn from retellings, but for me they were new and enchanting. Here were people who had such full lives. They had so many stories! I envied their adventures and the friends and relatives who flocked to the table to share them. It didn’t matter if the material was dated. Friends were there just to listen and occasionally jump in with their own highlights and additions.
In the modern world of instant access and blazing update speeds, we have the means to share just about anything. Why is it then that the stories are so short? We can’t be bothered to look through a whole photo album. You’d better put those vacation photos in a collage if you plan a get a click from my like button. Your status requires me to click on something to read all of it? Nah, I’ve got way too much on my newsfeed to be bothered with that. There’s a video of a cat on a trampoline just down a bit and it already started playing . . .
Maybe that’s why we have such a hard time experiencing the happiness of others. Maybe we just don’t want to give them enough of our time. Maybe we think we know the story already because we saw that collage.
It’s enough to make you awkward in public. If a status update from yesterday is old news, how much more stale will our retelling of it be when we get to see our friends in person. Will we have to worry about boring them with a story we already “told?” Do they already know what’s going on in our lives? How much did they read? They did hit that like button, right?
I miss being regaled. I want someone to tell me about their happiness and let me really get into it. I want a story that involves a lead-in story just so I have the context. It would be nice to have that be the new normal someday. I need a regale me button. If I had it I would want to use it to let my friends know that not only am I proud of them and their life accomplishments, I am looking forward to having them tell me about it in detail at the next available opportunity.
This week I had two friends call me on the phone to congratulate me because they saw a post about some progress I made with my writing. They actually called me on the phone. Blew me away. Totally made my week.
That’s going to be my new outlet for my excess energy. I’m going to gesture a little less and listen a little longer. I’m going to make some calls. Spread my current happiness around so I don’t accidentally drown my girlfriend in it. But first I’m going to tell people how excited I am for them doing all the stuff they’re doing, even if it’s a story they already told. I’m going to mean it. I’m going to try to compare less and honestly get excited that Frank has put an end to his days of picking up dog poop. Good for you, Frank. Good for you. You’ll have to tell me how you did it sometime. Sounds like it could have the makings of a good story . . .
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