The Happiness Project

A quotation from Samuel Johnson.

"There are men who always confound the praise of goodness with the practice, and who believe themselves mild and moderate, charitable and faithful, because they have exerted their eloquence in commendation of mildness, fidelity, and other virtues….how much more easily men may shew their virtue in their talk than in their actions." --Samuel Johnson.

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Aaaack. This describes me, all too often. I talk about what I'm going to do, and I know what I should do -- and then I don't do it.

What is "happiness," anyway?

My head is still buzzing from the comments responding to Wednesday's post, Tips for how NOT to be happy. So many provocative and insightful comments to consider.

I'm very sorry that in trying to be funny and counter-intuitive, and because I didn't include the scientific references to explain how I'd come up with my tips, I ended up coming across as obnoxious and condescending. Lesson learned.

For the record, I'll observe that studies show that extroversion (even for introverts) and exercise (even for couch potatoes) are highly correlated with happiness, and expressing and dwelling on anger and annoyance are highly correlated with non-happiness. That's how I came up with those tips.

Now, I'd assumed that most non-academics aren't interested in definitions, but it turns out that they are quite necessary.

I can't muster the kind of analysis necessary to tackle such questions while on vacation, but when I get back, I'm going to grapple with:

What is "happiness"? (Preview: my happiness formula is: To be happy, you must think about feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right, in an atmosphere of growth.)

Are "unhappiness" and "depression" different, and if so, how? (Preview: I think they ARE different.)

What is the opposite of "happiness"? (Preview: unhappiness and happiness aren't opposites, but, studies show, are separate constructs; and I think depression is in a different category entirely.)

So stay tuned...

Happiness is...grandparents who are happy to babysit.

A major contributor to my happiness in general, and certainly on this vacation, is the fact that the Big Man’s parents, and my parents, are all super-hands-on grandparents.

All of them are such naturally helpful grandparent types that it took me a while to appreciate how lucky I was. Wasn’t everyone thrilled to be a grandparent?

Thrilled, usually. Eager to help, not as common.

One friend told me that after her son was born, she asked her mother-in-law if she’d be willing to babysit. “Well, I suppose so…” her mother-in-law replied. “As long as you don’t leave.”

But in my case, both grandmothers are the take-charge type, in the nicest possible way. My mother came and stayed for weeks when the Big Girl and the Little Girl were born. My mother-in-law loves to take one or both girls for hours at a time.

The two grandfathers work more on the entertainment and “let’s-get-some-ice-cream” side of child care, less on the diaper-changing side, but they’re also both very enthusiastic.

This is one of those facts of life that is so easy to take for granted. Our vacation would be a lot less relaxing for the Big Man and me if his parents weren’t spelling us with the girls.

Right this minute, as I type, the Big Girl is off eating lunch with her grandparents while I stay with the napping Little Girl. An eight-year-old isn’t a particularly challenging lunch companion, but they were just as willing to take her when she was two.

I crave gold stars for myself, but how often do I tell the grandparents what a huge help they are? I resolve to tell them all, today.

Tips for how NOT to be happy.

One big revelation I've had about the nature of happiness is that some people simply don't want to be happy.

There are many reasons: you want to control other people, you want the satisfaction of being pitied or self-pity or both; you want special attention; you want to take the pressure off yourself, because you can't be expected to achieve much when you're so unhappy.

Oddly, too, you might associate unhappiness with depth of soul or intellect, and so pride yourself on unhappiness as a sign of inner worth.

Plus, for many people, it's less work to be unhappy than to be happy.

If you don't want to be happy, what qualities might you cultivate? Consider these:

-- Hone your powers of discernment so that practically nothing can meet your standards, and be sure to tell everyone else how the food, performance, or service fell short.

-- Stay alone as much as you can. Avoid seeing other people. Cancel plans frequently, don't answer your phone, tell people things like, "I hate parties," "I detest crowds," etc.

-- When someone bugs you -- whether it's a stranger talking loudly on a cell phone or a relative repeating the same maddeningly stupid jokes year after year -- tell as many people about it as possible. You may even need to see a therapist twice a week to talk about your grievances sufficiently.

-- Avoid any physical effort. Drive everywhere, and when at home, get off the sofa as little as possible.

-- Cultivate habits that keep you feeling stretched and overwhelmed. If you're short on cash, overcharge on your credit card. If you're busy at work, stay up late cruising the Internet or flipping among cable channels. If you don't have enough time to yourself, make complex plans that will take lots of time and errands to manage -- say, plan an elaborate birthday party for a two-year-old.

Would you take twenty minutes a day to be happy?

When I was in high school, I wanted new bedroom wallpaper. I made what I considered to be a very mature case to my parents for why my wish should be granted.

My father said, "Okay, but you have to do something for me, twenty minutes a day, four days a week." But he wouldn't tell me what I'd have to do.

I was intrigued by the mystery, and also figured that I could stand anything for twenty minutes a day, four days a week.

His demand: that I go running during that time.

This was the greatest bargain I ever struck. I barely remember the wallpaper, but that deal turned me into a regular exerciser.

I've always been terrible at sports, so I thought I hated all forms of exercise. But I discovered that I like exercise, I just don't like losing at games.

And I discovered that the best part of exercise was the mood boost it gave me.

If you're skeptical about the connection between exercise and happiness, a fascinating Newsweek cover story about exercise and the brain includes the article, "Exercise is a state of mind," which lays out the evidence. (I tried to include the link but I'm using the Big Man's computer, and it mysteriously won't allow me to copy...argh.)

As the article points out, regular exercise "improves your mood, decreases anxiety, improves sleep, improves resilience in the face of stress and raises self-esteem." It also offsets the effects of aging. In fact, in some studies, the effect of exercise was equal to that of drugs or pyschotherapy.

A lot of people take up exercising when they want to lose weight, but I think that you're more likely to stay motivated to exercise if you focus on the mental benefits instead of the physical benefits. Although it's true that people who exercise regularly are better able to keep weight off, it's very easy to get discouraged if you don't lose weight easily -- which never happens, right?

It's better to focus on SANITY, not VANITY.

Just this morning, I was in an irritable mood, because the Little Girl was so fussy at breakfast. (She's already taking her nap, and it's only 10:30 a.m.) But I went to the gym after breakfast, and by the time I left, I felt great.

Why it's hard to be happy when your computer isn't working properly.

It's spring break, and we're on a family vacation with the Big Man's parents.

We're staying at a beautiful resort, and having a lovely time. The girls are behaving themselves, I didn't forget to pack anything important like Little Swimmer diapers or contact lens solution, the weather is glorious, and the Diet Coke is plentiful.

But my enjoyment is clouded by one annoyance, and I'm absurd enough to let it affect my mood: my laptop isn't getting wireless service.

The Big Man's wireless service works. Mine worked initially, not anymore. Because of this glitch, I feel helpless, frustrated, and cut off (because I can't get my email). I'm having to re-type this post onto the Big Man's computer, after writing it on my machine. Once again, I note that there's something particularly unnerving and unpleasant about the failure of a communication device -- compared, for example, to a busted hairdryer.

Do I recognize the utter preposterousness of my complaint, relative to the extraordinary and real hardships experienced by most people? Do I realize how spoiled, and fretful, and demanding I sound? Do I know that I should stop worrying about work and enjoy a vacaction?

Yes.

But it's taking all my happiness-project discipline to keep this one irritation from zapping my mood. Even more than usual, I'm trying to remember my duty to be happy. The whole point of coming here is to have fun. If I'm testy, if I'm complaining, I'll dull everyone's fun.

I've heard the saying, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy," or in other words, "Happy wife, happy life." When I first heard these aphorisms, I though that sounded great -- yipeeee, it's all about pleasing me! -- but if true, it's a tremendous responsibility.

Because of "emotional contagion," one person's moods affect other people's moods, and unfortunately, bad moods are more contagious than good moods -- and "Mama's" moods are perhaps more contagious than anyone else's.

My dissatisfaction points out the hazard of the "hedonic treadmill." We enjoy some new luxury, for a time, but soon we start taking it for granted; it no longer gives us particular enjoyment, but feels like a necessity. Think about air-conditioning, car radios, cable TV, cell phones. And now, wireless service.

Gosh, writing this (or rather, re-typing it) is making me truly comprehend the pettiness of my complaint. I feel like an idiot -- but now I feel happier.

A quotation from Benjamin Franklin.

[Of his plan for achieving virtue, which I used as a model for my happiness project] "On the whole, though I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet as I was, by the endeavor, a better and a happier man than I otherwise should have been had I not attempted it.” --Benjamin Franklin.

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Franklin's point fits in with the arguments made by the two articles I linked to yesterday. Mastery (including self-mastery) comes from effort and practice.

The happiness of keeping your resolutions -- or at least, persisting in trying to keep your resolutions.

I just finished re-reading Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones’s Diary. I’ve learned that when I feel a mysterious compulsion to re-read something, I shouldn’t ignore it.

A few months ago, I felt compelled to re-read Tolstoy's War and Peace, and guess why — it’s a page-turner on the order of Stephen King, even if it is a world classic, and it’s also all about happiness (of course, it’s such a masterpiece that it’s about twenty other things as well, but to me, it was about happiness).

I felt drawn to pick up Bridget Jones’s Diary again. And I was laughing at myself, because the book is such a parody of my happiness project and my pep-talks to myself.

Bridget Jones begins by listing her New Year’s resolutions, which include, “I will go to gym three times a week not merely to buy sandwich” and “I will not get upset over men, but instead be poised and cool ice-queen.”

Some of our resolutions are the same, which made me feel a bit silly: “I will eat more fiber,” “I will put photographs in photograph albums,” “I will not bitch about anyone behind their backs, but be positive about everyone.”

The fact that Bridget Jones – in good company with more elevated figures, like Tolstoy, Pepys, and St. Therese – continually make and break the same resolutions is a great comfort to me.

I often repeat to myself the words of Samuel Johnson: “Grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolutions.” He has it exactly right. The secret to a happiness project is both to figure out what to do, and to do it.

(Zoikes, how often do you see Tolstoy and Bridget Jones woven into one discussion?)

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For some mysterious reason, I've started getting the Stanford alumni magazine, and this month it featured a fascinating article, Marina Krakovsky's The Effort Effect. It argues that people's view of the nature of ability shapes their performance. People with a "fixed mind-set," i.e., who believe that ability is inborn, are more risk-averse, give up easily, don't listen to criticism, and feel threatened by others' success. People with a "growth mind-set," i.e., who believe that ability is developed through practice, are more likely to take risks, to be persistent, to learn from criticism, and to learn from others' success. Significantly, changing a person's mind-set can affect their capacity to succeed.

This article relates to the New York magazine article How Not to Talk to Your Kids: The Inverse Power of Praise by Po Bronson, if you read that. Both articles are terrific.

After reading these articles, I'm reminding myself that, as Krakovsky says, "effort is a path to mastery." If I keep trying to keep up my resolutions, I will do better.

How I manage to make myself happier after a big professional disappointment.

I had a big professional disappointment this morning, and I have the sinking, almost sick feeling that I get when I feel that I’ve failed at something.

I’m trying to comfort myself with two catchphrases:

First: “The second opportunity is the better opportunity.” This is something that the Big Man always says: in career matters, if you don’t get the first opportunity you want, it’s always lucky, because inevitably the second opportunity is better.

Second: “Enjoy the fun of failure.” I’m very competitive, and also insecure, and I hate, hate, hate the feeling of failure. I’ve been reminding myself that failure is a necessary part of creativity, of risk-taking, of aiming high. If I’m not failing, I’m not trying hard enough. It’s fun to fail.

I can’t mope around, because I’m expected at the Big Girl’s school for her birthday celebration, and I need to pick up doughnuts for her class.

It occurs to me – eight years ago today, I was giving birth to a fragile four-pound baby who went straight to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for a week. If on that day, I could have known that anything at all could cast a shadow on the eighth birthday of our healthy, beautiful girl, I wouldn’t have believed it. What could dim that happiness?

Okay, I’m starting to feel better now.

Tips for cutting a significant number of calories out of your diet.

Every Wednesday is Tip Day.
This Wednesday: Tips for cutting a significant number of calories out of your diet.

Last Wednesday I posted a list of tips for cutting calories without dieting—in fact, without really noticing.

This Wednesday, as promised, I’m posting the more draconian rules I follow. Well, I usually follow them.

1. Don’t eat bread from a restaurant bread basket.
2. Don’t eat hors d’oeuvres.
3. Don’t eat anything at a children’s party.
4. Don’t order dessert.
5. Don’t eat cheese, except feta in salads.
6. Don’t use salad dressing (instead of dressing, I put feta cheese and artificial sweetener on my salads—sounds horrible, but it tastes good).
7. Don’t eat bagels.
8. Don’t drink alcohol.
9. Don’t drink juice.
10. Don’t finish my entrée, or order an appetizer.
11. Don’t eat Nutritious Creations chocolate-chip cookies.

You might thinking, “Life without cheese, without wine, without pigs-in-a-blanket? How joyless, how cramped, how bland! And a person who can put artificial sweetener on a salad is clearly insane.”

All true. Here’s why I follow these rules:

I have plenty of indulgences. I eat other kinds of treats, like candy; I could give up the candy and drink orange juice, but I prefer candy.

One of my most important Secrets of Adulthood (scroll down the left column for the whole list) is: “What's fun for other people may not be fun for you -- and vice versa.” I just don’t enjoy food as much as most people; giving up cheese isn’t a huge sacrifice for me. I realized I was often eating and drinking things I didn’t really want, because of social convention. I gave up alcohol (mostly) because I don’t particularly enjoy it, and also because I’m such a lightweight; I’m affected for the worse by even one glass of wine or beer.

I dread the prospect of dieting. Following these rules doesn’t seem like a diet to me, because I eat all I want of other foods that I like better than what I’m giving up.

I realized that it was easier for me to give up certain foods entirely than to eat them in moderation.

In the end, it comes down to this: it makes me happier to maintain a certain weight than to eat certain foods.