Chapter One
The Happy Files is an online journal regarding my feelings, ideas, and realizations before, during, and after reading the book, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. You can check her blog out at www.happiness-project.com. Let's jump right in, shall we?
In the foreword of her book, Gretchen defines a happiness project as "an approach to changing your life." She then continues on to define three stages of this project. First, there is a preparation stage, where one identifies what makes them happy and what makes them unhappy. Second one must make resolutions based on the principal understandings of their happy/unhappy findings that will strive towards boosting their state of happy. Lastly, and the hardest of any part of making a resolution or commitment to anything or anyone, is the challenging task of keeping those promises to yourself and choices of change. Might I add, in my own opinion, although a happiness project is indeed a solo project where you are the sole medium through which the project is dependent, any successful program or project will excel with the aid of a healthy support network of like-minded or loving individuals. That being said, let's move on to my revelations.
If you are anything like me, you may have spent a portion of your life moving decidedly towards a goal or dream you now possess or did at some point in the past. As early as five years old, I told my adoptive mother that I wanted to be a doctor so I could care for her when she became sick. I loved her so, and many children have an idol-like adoration for one or both parents. However, it was with a sense of guilt that I relayed just before entering college that I was interested in pursuing the study of piano, and perhaps minoring in Spanish or even English. My mother in particular seemed to be very concerned with my choices, having had her mind set that I would be a doctor as I had proclaimed in the ignorance and indecisiveness of my childhood. I struggled with the guilt of disappointing my mother, but felt that as an adult and someone who had to spend her life in the career she pursued, should inevitably choose something with which I felt a connection, a potential passion, and most simply, that in which I had an interest. So off to college I went in pursuit of the areas I had chosen, and to this day I am very glad I made that first choice regarding my "inner happy."
My initiation into adulthood was rather rough. Being developmentally delayed inwardly from having overruling and overly-overprotective parents contributed, as did the grief associated with losing my natural parents through adoption. When I broke free of home, I was determined to live up to the mantra I chanted to myself throughout adolescence in order to survive my unhappiness: "When I get to be 18, I'm gonna be good to ME." And in the pursuit of being good to myself I was actually in the pursuit of discovering one of the main rights declared of man in the Declaration of Independence: the Pursuit of Happiness. I made some mistakes, did things I thought would make me happy but didn't, did things that did make me happy but the happiness was short-lived, and simply lived my life as best as a young and new adult going off to college with cut strings could. However, my undying drive and determination to be amazingly successful and "show them" (my adoptive parents) that I could be successful following my dream turned out to be a maniacal force that actually left me questioning my very purpose in life and what the meaning of happiness really was. I saw friends working jobs they hated and parents that retired from doing jobs they probably didn't like but only had enough skills or level of education appropriate for that particular line of work. Just like the guilt I felt when telling my parents I no longer wished to be a doctor, I realized with sinking disappointment that being a concert pianist wasn't where it was at, either. I didn't have the discipline or desire to craze myself into isolation through hours of practice when the sun was shining and there was life outside to be lived. I look admirably on those who find time amidst family, hours of university teaching, and days of touring to be able calm their mind just enough to savor a tasty meal or slip into a blissful sleep. But I knew that wasn't me.
So, then, what in the world would make me happy? I had to have a job to make money to survive, that much was evident, but what good was a life with a job that earns great money but leaves me depressed, isolated, and deprived of my inner happy? Where was such a job? I thought for sure it lied in performing and "hitting it big". I decided to go to L.A., which my husband was less than thrilled about. I pushed myself to set up tours for my band, try to squeeze in time to practice my saxophone, compile a list of songs to record for CD projects on piano, and re-read the parts of Everything You Need to Know About the Music Business by Donald Passman (that I could understand, that is). I took vocal lessons (once) and even jazz piano lessons (twice or thrice). Of course, all of those things failed. I didn't have enough time, I was too fatigued, my husband complained I didn't play with the kids enough, blah and blah. I feared disappointing my ex-professors, I so wanted to make them and my university proud. I wanted to have a building in my name, a scholarship fund for music students, and an extensive list of awards, recognitions, accolades, and the works included in my bio. But all that pushing and shoving for what I thought would result in an easy-breezy job that dropped money on me like a brick killed me. I wasn't happy during that process. And the failing that I felt was resulting settled me into depression. I read every positive Tweet I could and re-Tweeted it, more for myself than anyone. I researched jobs in place like California, Florida, anywhere but here, Michigan on chronicle.com. I drove myself bonkers trying to make it to the top, and aged myself trying to accomplish in one year after grad school what takes most a lifetime to achieve--except for the lucky few everyone knows (Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, Drake, and other well-known popular music artists). Did I mention I'm 24 years old?
I felt like my life was running away from me, and that I would spend my entire life running after things that were eluding my grasp, and would wake up and find that I was 64 with nothing to show. I sought after "life preservers" such as being a great mom to my beautiful children, being a wife and happily married, living in a nice house, and upgrading to a nicer car. All of these are great and supply happiness in their own right, but none enough to sustain my daily quota for happiness; I needed to constantly find projects and goals to replenish my inner happy tank, and I was always dangerously close to "E". I remember my adoptive mother telling me over the phone, "I know you won't be happy until you do what you want to do, until you're successful. And I want to help you." It was very sweet of her to acknowledge what I didn't want to say, and I knew that no one would really be able to help me. My pursuit of happiness and what it really is and how to get it and what substance it is made of would have to be my own job, and I would have to make time to do it. But when?
The Happy Files is an online journal regarding my feelings, ideas, and realizations before, during, and after reading the book, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. You can check her blog out at www.happiness-project.com. Let's jump right in, shall we?
In the foreword of her book, Gretchen defines a happiness project as "an approach to changing your life." She then continues on to define three stages of this project. First, there is a preparation stage, where one identifies what makes them happy and what makes them unhappy. Second one must make resolutions based on the principal understandings of their happy/unhappy findings that will strive towards boosting their state of happy. Lastly, and the hardest of any part of making a resolution or commitment to anything or anyone, is the challenging task of keeping those promises to yourself and choices of change. Might I add, in my own opinion, although a happiness project is indeed a solo project where you are the sole medium through which the project is dependent, any successful program or project will excel with the aid of a healthy support network of like-minded or loving individuals. That being said, let's move on to my revelations.
If you are anything like me, you may have spent a portion of your life moving decidedly towards a goal or dream you now possess or did at some point in the past. As early as five years old, I told my adoptive mother that I wanted to be a doctor so I could care for her when she became sick. I loved her so, and many children have an idol-like adoration for one or both parents. However, it was with a sense of guilt that I relayed just before entering college that I was interested in pursuing the study of piano, and perhaps minoring in Spanish or even English. My mother in particular seemed to be very concerned with my choices, having had her mind set that I would be a doctor as I had proclaimed in the ignorance and indecisiveness of my childhood. I struggled with the guilt of disappointing my mother, but felt that as an adult and someone who had to spend her life in the career she pursued, should inevitably choose something with which I felt a connection, a potential passion, and most simply, that in which I had an interest. So off to college I went in pursuit of the areas I had chosen, and to this day I am very glad I made that first choice regarding my "inner happy."
My initiation into adulthood was rather rough. Being developmentally delayed inwardly from having overruling and overly-overprotective parents contributed, as did the grief associated with losing my natural parents through adoption. When I broke free of home, I was determined to live up to the mantra I chanted to myself throughout adolescence in order to survive my unhappiness: "When I get to be 18, I'm gonna be good to ME." And in the pursuit of being good to myself I was actually in the pursuit of discovering one of the main rights declared of man in the Declaration of Independence: the Pursuit of Happiness. I made some mistakes, did things I thought would make me happy but didn't, did things that did make me happy but the happiness was short-lived, and simply lived my life as best as a young and new adult going off to college with cut strings could. However, my undying drive and determination to be amazingly successful and "show them" (my adoptive parents) that I could be successful following my dream turned out to be a maniacal force that actually left me questioning my very purpose in life and what the meaning of happiness really was. I saw friends working jobs they hated and parents that retired from doing jobs they probably didn't like but only had enough skills or level of education appropriate for that particular line of work. Just like the guilt I felt when telling my parents I no longer wished to be a doctor, I realized with sinking disappointment that being a concert pianist wasn't where it was at, either. I didn't have the discipline or desire to craze myself into isolation through hours of practice when the sun was shining and there was life outside to be lived. I look admirably on those who find time amidst family, hours of university teaching, and days of touring to be able calm their mind just enough to savor a tasty meal or slip into a blissful sleep. But I knew that wasn't me.
So, then, what in the world would make me happy? I had to have a job to make money to survive, that much was evident, but what good was a life with a job that earns great money but leaves me depressed, isolated, and deprived of my inner happy? Where was such a job? I thought for sure it lied in performing and "hitting it big". I decided to go to L.A., which my husband was less than thrilled about. I pushed myself to set up tours for my band, try to squeeze in time to practice my saxophone, compile a list of songs to record for CD projects on piano, and re-read the parts of Everything You Need to Know About the Music Business by Donald Passman (that I could understand, that is). I took vocal lessons (once) and even jazz piano lessons (twice or thrice). Of course, all of those things failed. I didn't have enough time, I was too fatigued, my husband complained I didn't play with the kids enough, blah and blah. I feared disappointing my ex-professors, I so wanted to make them and my university proud. I wanted to have a building in my name, a scholarship fund for music students, and an extensive list of awards, recognitions, accolades, and the works included in my bio. But all that pushing and shoving for what I thought would result in an easy-breezy job that dropped money on me like a brick killed me. I wasn't happy during that process. And the failing that I felt was resulting settled me into depression. I read every positive Tweet I could and re-Tweeted it, more for myself than anyone. I researched jobs in place like California, Florida, anywhere but here, Michigan on chronicle.com. I drove myself bonkers trying to make it to the top, and aged myself trying to accomplish in one year after grad school what takes most a lifetime to achieve--except for the lucky few everyone knows (Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, Drake, and other well-known popular music artists). Did I mention I'm 24 years old?
I felt like my life was running away from me, and that I would spend my entire life running after things that were eluding my grasp, and would wake up and find that I was 64 with nothing to show. I sought after "life preservers" such as being a great mom to my beautiful children, being a wife and happily married, living in a nice house, and upgrading to a nicer car. All of these are great and supply happiness in their own right, but none enough to sustain my daily quota for happiness; I needed to constantly find projects and goals to replenish my inner happy tank, and I was always dangerously close to "E". I remember my adoptive mother telling me over the phone, "I know you won't be happy until you do what you want to do, until you're successful. And I want to help you." It was very sweet of her to acknowledge what I didn't want to say, and I knew that no one would really be able to help me. My pursuit of happiness and what it really is and how to get it and what substance it is made of would have to be my own job, and I would have to make time to do it. But when?
I don't need to tell you any more how much I love your writings and your openness. What I take away from it is to work that much harder in letting the Holy Spirit be my guide. It makes me happy to walk with you on this journey that you are on and I will gladly folllow your crumbs and the hopes that I too will become a better person.
ReplyDeleteI love the way you've written this out. I love your ideas and your out look on some things.You pose some great questions. You also give some good insight to what it really takes to be happy. Its not always the material things (house & car), its about helping others and enjoying what we are doing. Wether we are successful or not. A lot of famous composers and artists weren't very successful but they were happy and love what they are doing. After reading your blog i'm thinking about reading that book.
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