Hi! My name is Bree, and I write about how to have better days at work and in life. Subscribe for posts on everything from 20 short rules for better days at work to Grandpa Mornings. And order my new book, Today Was Fun: A Book About Work (Seriously)!
Last night before bed, Brad said, “How was your day? How are you?” For some reason I responded:
“I’m having a great time.”
Like, in life. Which is true.
But also, unexpectedly, it stirred up all sorts of internal voices that I had to quiet down like a bunch of 5th graders being told recess was cancelled. “Settle down! All of you!”
Amidst the cacophony, I could identify a few voices:
Ugh, Bree, it’s so unrelatable to be happy. Misery loves company, remember. You’re going to make people feel bad and roll their eyes.
Obviously people will think you’re lying. With everyone presenting shiny, Instagram-friendly versions of their lives, authenticity = messiness, cynicism. No one ever follows “Just keeping it real” with “I’m so happy!”
If you dare to think you’re happy, just wait until the God of Hubris finds out. Instant bedbugs.
And what happened to your ambition? Happiness feels far too close to complacency. So what, you’re just… satisfied with your life?
It’s also not cool. Happiness isn’t interesting, isn’t complex. It’s not artistic or deep or intriguing.
WHO ARE THESE VOICES?! There are enough problems in the world and my life that will do a great job of keeping me down. Why should I also join the ranks as a gatekeeper to my own joy?
Yesterday I took my dad, who has Alzheimer’s, to the doctor. Couldn’t get blood pressure—he wouldn’t stop moving. Didn’t even try getting his shirt off. But somehow, miraculously, between me holding one arm and staring him in the eyes and singing and his caregiver holding his other arm, this ninja of a nurse was able to get a blood draw. Now getting blood from someone with Alzheimer’s is a zero-stars, would-not-recommend activity. But I felt AMAZING after. So proud. I banked all the joy I could get. And then we took him home and watched Seinfeld together—the one with the shrinkage.
It was one reason I reported to Brad I was having a great time. It was a hard afternoon, though it wasn’t without joy, and I imagine that’s true for many people, many days. I wondered how much we keep ourselves from feeling joy for any number of reasons… for fear of it being indulgent or hubris-tempting or uncool or simply a waste of time. And even if we do feel it, I wonder how much we dare to tell others.
I also wonder, in a work setting, how much being tired or unhappy is a conscious or unconscious strategy for finding support and fending off overwork. Like how when Arden was little Brad and I always competed for who was the most tired so the other person had to get up and change the diaper. Is there a part of us that worries the happier and stronger we are, the more people will try to extract from us?
This all intrigues me because of how much more joy might be possible if we could nail the final leg of the happiness process: feeling it. It’s like failing the “last mile” of a delivery service—a package makes its way across the world, through endless distribution centers and ships and trucks, all to be FINALLY delivered to your door. And then it gets kicked under your porch.
Similarly, I went through the whole ordeal of the afternoon, and I did not need to revel in the joy of helping my dad. I could have easily kicked that joy under the porch on my way to the next task of the day. But I’m glad I felt it. It made it a good day.
This post is not a “try to be happy” post. It’s more a “maybe life would be better if we didn’t try to be anything” post. It’s okay to be authentically stressed and down. Okay to be authentically happy. Okay to both have a bad day AND a moment of joy within it. As someone said to me recently, “Grieving people can still laugh.”
Care for some friendly homework this weekend? Here it is: Revel in something. Take thirty seconds to roll with delight in… (to get you started):
How nice that one corner of your house/apartment looks.
How much you love some part of being your current age.
How good looking you are.
How nice that text was that your friend sent you.
How nice it feels to step into a hot shower in the fall.
And then, tell us about it! Or maybe you already had a revel today. Tell us all here. Going through hell at the moment? Tell us about a nice lava rock you found. We’ll cheer you on.
I’ll be the featured author at Reading Rhythm’s reading party next week! A reading party is exactly what it sounds like. People get together, but instead of aimless mingling, you bring your book and read in comfy chairs. This all really scratches my introverted soul’s itch to gather but not have to think of things to say all the time :) Come with friends or come alone!
Tix here | Monday, October 27th, 7-9pm, Tribeca
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