The Dumbest Thing You Keep Telling Yourself
Y’all spend so much time sitting watching Netflix, doing nails, taking naps, smoking pot, online shopping, scrolling TikTok, masturbating to porno, drinking booze, playing video games, planning/having vacations, and generally wasting your life…
…and then you dare say “I just don’t understand why I can’t be happy?!”
Happiness isn’t a target to hit or a tank to refill.
You’re chasing wind.
Hunting an invisible prey.
Seeking a metaphorical orgasm with the a metaphorical dildo. And it’s a little one.
Who has a spouse, friend, or family member who have said this…
…“I just want to be happy.”
Or, the other classic “I’m going to choose happiness.”
This has to be hands down, bar-none the dumbest thing we tell ourselves.
Hate to be the Ursus of Unfortunate news, but…
…Happiness isn’t attainable.
At least not in the going-to-the-store-and-buying-a-gallon-of-milk type of attainable.
It’s not a bumper sticker message.
It isn’t a grainy, recycled, image of a Minion with a quote shared by your barely tech-savvy grandmother.
Happiness is organic in nature. And not the Californian Granola-Girl organic. I mean it occurs as part of a life well led.
In short: Happiness is a byproduct.
It is what is produced when you lead a life of meaning.
Work a job that you love?
You feel great when you wake up in the morning, great when you clock in, great when you do the work, and still great when you clock out. That “feeling great” is the byproduct of the job you enjoy.
Here’s a clear example:
In school, I was absolutely the turds at math. I had three different tutors, and any given week my mom scheduled me with two of them for three hours.
It was brutal.
There were times I sobbed at my desk in my bedroom, brain straining because I could not understand Algebra. I crammed failed assignments under my dresser and then would burn them when my parents went out of town. There were fringe benefits of living in the literal woods.
After a few weeks and 30 hours of tutoring seshes, a final exam in algebra was imminent.
For the first time ever I went in with something that resembled confidence.
It was confidence’s less attractive, oily-haired, shorter cousin with halitosis…
…but it was confidence enough.
The huge sense of pride after walking out with a B was palpable.
I had tears of joy in my eyes. That B pushed my skills to the brink, but I did it. Math wasn’t something I enjoyed nor was good at. But, I put in the work, was challenged, and reaped some rewards.
This is something akin to creating happiness.
Happiness is produced when we are reasonably challenged. It’s when we get to practice (and grow) our skills near the edge of competence. It’s when, after months of nightly books, your kiddo suddenly starts reading before your eyes.
That’s what brings us happiness. Meaning.
Happiness gets depleted, albeit slowly, when we waste time on Netflix. Masturbating. Gaming excessively. Eating frozen pizza bagels for the third night in a row while the wilting vegetables be like:
Your soul knows when you’re falling short of your potential and it saps you of joy.
So get off your duff and go for a walk without your phone.
Cut down on the dope and whip out a notebook to journal.
Put down the booze and go to a workshop.
One of the best ways to start finding meaning in things is to look back at childhood. What did you naturally gravitate towards? Was it building LEGO? Art?
I always enjoyed reading and stories. And here I am, baby.
You don’t need to quit your day job and to start painting 100 hours a week…
…But find some local groups.
Make some friends, learn the finer attributes of the skills.
Seek some mastery of it.
Push out your borders and work at it daily.
So, quit chasing the invisible rabbit. You’re not some strange, ghostly version of Elmer Fudd.
What are you going to do to start producing happiness as a byproduct?
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