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In late fall, I had a phone sessions with my Oregon therapist. For some reason, we started talking about happiness.
“Chris achieved happiness so easily,” I said to him. “And I don’t.”
The counselor interrupted me. “Do you know how he did?”
I started to answer that I didn’t. But then I realized that Chris had set out to do many things, and he’d achieved them. He’d wanted to be a rodeo competitor, work as a cowboy, join the SEALs. He’d done all of those. What’s more, he excelled at them.
Those achievements made him happy, or at least confident enough that he could be happy.
As we talked, the counselor noted that I, too, had my own achievements. But I told him--as he already knew--that I wanted to do so many more things. And I always do.
Was that a reason not to be happy?
The counselor pointed out that I tend to focus on what I haven’t done, rather than what I’ve achieved. My thinking runs; If I do A, then B, then C, then I’ll be happy. But when I achieve A, rather than saying “Yay!” I say, “I haven’t done B and C, so I can’t be happy.”
Why focus on what I haven’t done? Why not celebrate those things I have done, even as I look forward to doing other things on my list? Those achievements are accomplishments--I should feel good about them, confident I can do more.
And happy. Or at least happier.
Another lesson.
There are other components to happiness beyond achievement. “Smaller” things, like carving out time for workouts as well as the kids, are actually big things when they are added up. Yet I often feel those things are distractions from what I really want to achieve. Blockers, rather than stepping-stones.
Obviously, the wrong way to think about them.
On paper, it doesn’t seem like a very profound realization. But put into practice, it means that I--we, all of us--have to keep things in the larger perspective. If you want to achieve a lot, then the reality is that you are always going to have something else you want to do. Keep trying to achieve, but don’t beat yourself up for not getting everything done. The “smaller” things are just as essential to happiness.
So: the key to my happiness is appreciating what I have and what I’ve done, and realizing that I’ll always have something else to do.
Profound?
No, but empowering.
I might never have realized it had I not been grieving so deeply. I would have felt silly, really, talking about achieving happiness when Chris was alive. Why wouldn’t I be happy with a great husband and wonderful children?
I was happy. But not at the deepest level.
I’m not there yet, obviously. But it is possible now.
And yet I still wonder:
How can I possibly be happy with Chris gone?
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