The Problem of Happiness

It's usually the problem of pain. But for me, it's the problem of happiness. 

Illusive, comparative, and fickle. Often incompatible with consistent norms of reality.

And in the interest of shedding some light on these deep skepticisms of happiness, my wise, beautiful, and insightful cousin harkened back to the astuteness of the Greeks, noting this concept of eudaimonia. A word which encapsulates a fuller, richer view of happiness; the idea of fulfillment.

Human flourishment.

And it is within this richer view of happiness that I find myself. As a deeply feeling, introspective, emotional human, I am drawn to the deepest recesses of my heart. I share without fear, and often to the discomfort of others in my frankness. But I believe that in such vulnerability, I invite others into a safety and welcoming to explore their own depths; that through emotional honesty in my own life, I encourage others to look more deeply into themselves for the better.

But even as seen in these posts, I admittedly have a tendency toward feeling that I am being the most honest and real version of myself when I am focusing on the hurts, disappointments, and sadnesses of life. I internally gag at platitudes and hollow encouragements. The 'realness' of life is found in the deep, the cynical, and the questioning. Rainbows and happy endings don't exist for me. They don't for anyone, really. I just admit it. But I also tend to dwell on it.

And so, I admit, I most likely suffer from chronic cynicism, self-doubt and extreme sensitivity to others' reactions to me--true.

But part of the reason for this is that I hold a secret, inner image of who I feel I could be. I have an idea of the sort of person I would like to become--the kind of person who would be fantastically talented, socially adept, and intensely desired. In short, I've come to believe that if I were somehow different from who I am, I would be seen and loved. And unfortunately, this creates a constant negative comparison of self to this idealized, secret self--my 'fantasy self.' And it in turn makes it very difficult to appreciate many of my genuinely positive qualities because they are never as wonderful as the fantasy.

The same applies to my relationships. Many self-sabotaged experiences later. I am in touch with my feelings very early on toward potential partners, but also very quickly idolize them; placing great expectations on the partner for nurturing affirmation and support. Then feeling disappointed once I get to know them—often finding their company draining, dull, or unsatisfying. The downward spiral continues in almost practiced fashion, inevitably leading to hyper sensitivity, devaluation and ultimately, rejection.

I often dwell on the negative, because more occurrences than I care to recall have pointed to a 'Plan B' life. A second best, left-over, plain, un-seen, un-talented, inconsequential life.

The problem with happiness is that it shames these feelings--tells them they shouldn't be felt--shouldn't be at all. We should count our blessings and be grateful. Joyful even. Don't worry, be happy! The mantra reigns out in glittery sparkly foils.

I've always felt crushed by happiness, feeling that I was inherently wrong because I rarely felt 'happy.'

There were always these feelings--raw, unshakeable, clear. Most likely untrue, but intense nonetheless. And to a large degree still today, they remain nagging in my subconscious to be dealt with and healed from.

And so, my journey of actualization involves letting go of this idealized, secret self so I may see and appreciate who I actually am. In every, true facet. Wholly Grace.

Because in a balanced, healthy state, I have exquisite attunement to my own inner state, enabling discovery of deep truths about human nature, to bear compassionate witness to the suffering of others, and to be profoundly honest about my own motives.

I never want to restrain or lose touch with my emotions, to feel ordinary, to have my individuality unrecognized, to have my taste questioned, to be required at social settings to follow impersonal rules and procedures, or to spend time with people I (rightly or wrongly) perceive as lacking taste or emotional depth. Nothing will drain life from my genuine self faster.

Fulfillment for me is achieving something beautiful, authentic, and uniquely me, despite the loneliness, suffering, and self-doubt I have so often felt. And it will walk hand-in-hand with actualization when I can sincerely describe myself in this way:

I am true to myself. I am emotionally honest and unafraid to reveal myself to others. I combine self-awareness and introspection with great emotional strength and endurance. I bring a heightened sensitivity to my experiences and am able to share with others the subtleties of my inner world, which invites them to do the same. I am highly intuitive and creative and add a personal, human touch to whatever I am involved with. I treat others with gentleness, tact, and discretion. I can be wonderfully expressive with an ironic, witty view of life and myself, able to find humor in my own foibles and contradictions. And, I bring a sense of beauty, refinement, and emotional richness to other's lives.

This for me, I believe, will be eudaemonia. Because I no longer believe in happiness. I've never believed in it for myself. I'm not a characteristically happy person.

But fulfillment and emotional flourishment. Ah, that appeals to me. Because within such a bolstered identity, I believe I might just be able to grow into a truly well, fulfilled, peaceful, and loved human being.

May every thought not be happier, but kinder, than the one before.