Recently, I've been reading quite a few books on Happiness. Well, not all of them deal specifically with happiness, but all of them, at the very least, brushes up on it. That's got me thinking about the concept of happiness: What is happy? Why do people think of happiness so much? Is it overrated—or underrated? Is there a definite happiness formula that works for everyone? These books make me want to explore that topic and really hash it out in a blog post. If you're expecting a review of the books, though, you came to the wrong place—those you can find on my
Goodreads. Today I want to really talk about what happiness means to me and other happy thoughts that's been running through my mind.
For centuries, humanity has been trying to find ways to achieve happiness. Various experts and pop-culture figures have had their say, giving a tumultuous of advice and quotes on the topic. These books are no exception. There are the Scandinavian ways of living: Lagom from Sweden and Hygge from Denmark. While balanced living and well-being may not be terrible concepts, it is delusional to think that they are the major contributors to the happiness of the Scandi people—the small population, wealthy national funds and relatively stable nature may play a bigger role. Try thinking of minimalism living when you can't get access to clean water and a hearty meal. It's not even your choice anymore. On the other hand, Gretchen Rubin's book is a broader look on happiness—on an individual level. I can't say it's not the least bit self-indulgent—and, again, comes from a privileged point-of-view of the financially stable—but it is very applicable to our own lives.
These days I no longer question my own state of happiness; I did that over four years ago. It was the main reason that I left Germany. When I was growing up, I had a pretty concrete idea of what I would be like as an adult. I was determined to draw for a living, probably by learning about it in university, which will lead me to my inevitable career. Unfortunately, in the process of slowly becoming an adult, I realise that life will never be that simple again—if it ever was. Just because you like to draw and some people say you're good at it, doesn't necessarily mean that everyone will like what you make. It takes more than just skills and passion to reach your dreams—apparently target market matters a great deal. Somewhere along the way, I decided to start over. I've said this before and I'll say it again: leaving Germany was the hardest decision I've ever had to make.
Gretchen Rubin says in her book, "Happiness doesn't always make you feel happy." This move, to me, is one of those things. It is a very tough and heartbreaking decision that I hoped I didn't have to make, but I know, for the sake of growth and long-term happiness, it was necessary. While, in hindsight, I can say it was most likely the right decision, I can't say for sure that I couldn't have become happy any other way. I would be lying if I said I never fixated on the countless possibilities. This leads me to believe that happiness is not that simple. It's not a linear journey to get somewhere, but a many-branched road, that you only get to pick one. You'll have to be okay, not knowing how your life would have been otherwise. And that, to me, is often very unsettling—no matter how happy I am.
People often point out that I'm very quick to look at the bright side, to think positively and to be cheerful—okay, maybe one or two people. What they don't know is that I revel in the thoughts of heartbreak, emotional pain and misery. Listening to sad songs gives me life. Reminiscing in the distant past is my favourite pastime. And thinking about disastrous possibilities lights up my imagination. I don't think that the opposite of joy is sadness or anger, the opposite of love is hate, or the opposite of content is disruption. In fact, the more you remember the sad/frustrating/terrifying things in life, the more grateful you become of all the good that you already have. For me, remembering the good old days, the happy memories and the beautiful moments often brings me to tears more than anything else. It is only in weakness do we find strength, and in fear do we find courage. Happiness, to me, is about embracing these polar opposites. By relieving them in moderation, you'll be able to air out all the good and bad thoughts out of your system. But overdo it, and you'll be stuck in them forever.
The older I get, I'm surprised to see how many more people would really rather not deal with the unpleasant things in life. They don't even have to necessarily discuss it with someone else, but even just thinking about it seems to be the last thing they'd want to do. I seem to notice a lot more people holding in their tears or frustration, even when they're by themselves. This I don't understand. I always postpone my tears to before I go to sleep—only when I feel the need to, of course. For whom are you putting up a front when you're by yourself? You already know the kind of person that you are. You already know that you are miserable. If you won't even talk to yourself, who can you trust to share this heartache with?
I believe, that if we can sort our thoughts and feelings accordingly, everything else will fall into place. We'll be able to manage a more organised space. We'll be more inclined to eat a healthy diet. We'll want to exercise more and strive for our goals. We'll even find the need to help others—and, hopefully, the environment too. Before long, we will stop asking ourselves if we're happy—or when we do, we can answer with a resounding "Huh, I guess I am."
What is your key to happiness?
