- Albert Camus
THE INTRODUCTION
Am I happy?
Well, yes. I suppose that in a general, over all state of being, I’m glad I’m alive. But is that really “happy?” Can I just wake up one morning and inherently, finally know: OK, I’m a pretty happy person over all?
I tend not to think so. Contrary to popular belief, I think it has to involve a little more effort than that.
That, of course, is not to say that one has to remind one’s self of being happy every passing second, but I’ve come to realize that I am most happy when I’m aware and mindful of what I enjoy in my life and what I’m grateful for, focusing on it, and examining the details of it. I know that process sounds exhausting, but as I think about savoring a moment and relishing the positive qualities of wonderful people who cross through my life, I realize that this process of uncovering what brings me joy is not homework, but rather something calming, relaxing, therapeutic, and essential.
THE WHO I AM
Before I go any further, my name is Jenae. I’m twenty years old and I’m halfway through my third year studying English at UCLA. I grew up in Sacramento, California. I read and write quite a bit. I’m not sure how much more there is to say about me than that. Who I really am will hopefully emerge not through the facts I divulge, but through my experiences.
I hadn’t thought much of “happiness” before this past year because I didn’t really need to. I felt effortlessly content; I grew up comfortably, had great friends, had great school experiences, and generally never toyed with anything very complex in my life (other than arguably the dreaded college admissions decisions which, at the time, seemed like they would dictate the course of my life forever and ever and ever amen).
Yet as this year began, I descended into what I like to call my “mid-college crisis.” A lot of big changes occurred. I began to question not only my academic motivations (what the hell was I going to do with my B.A. in English?), but also who I was and what I wanted from my life.
Suddenly, shatteringly, and devastatingly (how’s that for dramatic?) everything I worked hard to accomplish seemed pointless. It seemed as though no matter how hard I tried to communicate how I felt to others, no one really understood. It was as though the people around me stopped caring about what I was doing, stopped noticing me, and stopped validating what I felt was my hard work and my good character.
My organized self just couldn’t stand it; I wanted to be in control over how I felt, and yet I began to feel as if everything – my emotions, my goals – were suddenly things completely out of my control. Depression ad mantras (“Do you find yourself teary? Hopeless? Alone?”) began to resonate with me. Frankly, it was freaking me out; I had never really felt so lost.
A counselor – fortunately and unfortunately – found some sort of explanation for my concerns.
“It sounds like you’re maturing and discovering what you really want,” she told me.
OK, yes. I could accept that I was potentially growing up and maybe even out of what I thought I enjoyed, but then I couldn’t help but ask myself: what do I want?
Initially, what I wanted was for all of my concerns to disappear, for me to stop worrying about everything and just revert back to the happy freshman and sophomore who began her career at UCLA bright, eager, and accepting.
Yet attempting to squeeze on the cheery trousers I wore two years ago was uncomfortable. Why couldn’t I be the same person that everyone presumably loved more than this weepy, lachrymose Jenae?
THE CONCLUSION
It took a lot of time, a lot of loss, a lot of disappointment, and a lot of tissues to realize that it wasn’t that I needed to be the person I expected myself to be, but rather I needed to pay attention to what was happening in the present. Who are the people around me affecting me in a positive way? What am I doing that is – actually, really, truly, genuinely – satisfying me?
I grew tired of my inability to define something as seemingly simple as whether I’m happy with my life. Questioning whether I was “generally” at peace with myself, the decisions I made, the friendships I created, and the life I lead was (and still is) exhausting. I was tired of crying over frustrations, I was tired of anxiety over choices (both the big and large), and most importantly, I was tired of dissatisfaction with who I was.
THE MISSION
So, I’ve decided to stop questioning what I do and instead focus my energy on the acts of kindness that either I commit or I see others commit. I consider – really, pride – myself a diligent and hard worker, yet I have not really completed what could be an important and what should be a lifelong project: expressing gratitude for whatever and whoever inspires me.
According to an amalgam of readings on happiness and what makes people happy, it is the process of completing a project rather than the project itself that leads to self-satisfaction, so here I am, working on a project that I hope will not only bring me joy and help me stay aware and self-reflective, but may also encourage others to take the time out to be mindful and self-reflective, too, of what brings one joy.
In an article in Psychology Today (“The Pursuit of Happiness,” February 2009) UC Riverside professor Sonja Lyubomirsky recommends expressing one’s gratitude toward someone or something in a weekly journal or letter. So, that’s what I’m going to do. This will be my daily record of what brings me joy.Please join me. I hope that this journey teaches us something.
