Why do I feel I need to be ‘happy’?
We constantly absorb the idea that we need to be happier, but do we? The word “why” allows us to shift our perspective and think more broadly about why a “happier life” is the imagined goal, rather than a life that has more complexity, meaning and authenticity. In our consumer culture, it’s as though happiness is something we can buy, rather than contentment and interest, which we experience. This focus on happiness can negate what’s going on, how we feel, how many varied things we might be experiencing. That doesn’t make for a very sustainable or interesting life.
What am I longing for?
Shift the lens from what you’re striving for to what you’re drawn to, what you want to put your energy into. Perhaps you’ve been stuck at home with the kids and haven’t seen your friends, so there’s a longing to start seeing them again. Longing can have a bite to it, because it can be painful to long for something and not be able to reach it, but longing also cues us into what we want; we might not always be able to get there but we may find a route to our deeper needs.
Am I caught up in any patterns?
Nobody can go through life without regret, but developing an empathic relationship to it allows us to mourn and reflect on how we were and what we were capable of under the circumstances – for example, if you stayed in a relationship for too long, you may understand that you felt too insecure to leave it, or that you needed to look after that person. Those are sympathetic ways of being reflective on your experience, and the capacity to reflect allows you to catch yourself enacting the same patterns.
When does connection nourish me?
It may be when you have a wonderful conversation, or when you’re at a concert and feel part of the whole thing. I get tremendous delight working on things with other people; for others it could be playing an instrument, painting, walking, banging nails into a wall and getting it right – it doesn’t matter what it is. It could also encompass cultural practices; reading a book or watching a movie that really speaks to you is a way of feeling touched.
What am I doing that’s about contribution?
I was brought up at a time when we thought the point of society was to contribute, and I still value that psychologically. Finding ways of extending one’s capacities to give – whether within our community, artistically or emotionally – expands who we are, whether we’re a mathematician who is making a contribution to understanding, or drawn to the arts or medicine. If we look at the number of cookery pages in magazines, that’s about creating something, nourishing people you love while also giving you something in the process of transformation.
How am I stuck, and what perspective do I need to unstick myself?
This is about increasing our emotional repertoire. The therapist in me would ask: how does it help you to be stuck in this way, and can you highlight any apparent advantages of holding this position, however difficult that may be? For example, does it allow you not to do certain things, or keep you safe in your perception? That reflection can open you up to thinking: maybe I don’t need to do this any more.
What things give me ordinary pleasure?
While some of us are lucky enough to find meaning in our work, some are stoical about it but do other things – go to a chess club, or make furniture, or sing in a choir. Being able to have spaces for things outside of work and family are important. It could be playing cards on a Monday night, going for a walk, preparing a meal or having a giggle with your kid. It’s something nourishing – that’s the key.
after newsletter promotion
Do I feel heard?
We want people to hear us, whether it’s our delight or our sorrows. When those things aren’t heard, you get rage, alienation, depression – or Trump coming to power. Being heard, or recognised, is very important but it doesn’t need to be by having loads of likes on social media. We have to take a risk internally, in telling a friend or partner something that feels important about us. In response to the question, “How are you today?” you might say, “Things are a bit difficult.” The other person doesn’t have to fix it for you; they just have to acknowledge it.
Could I look at difficulties from another perspective?
The thing about a difficulty is we tend to approach it in the same manner, rather than picking it up, turning it around and looking at it from different angles. Sitting with a difficulty is important because if you don’t react immediately, you might find more texture or colour within it. Reflect on whether this is a known difficulty, a familiar pattern or a new circumstance. Knowing how painful, enraging, sad or regretful something is expands your capacity to do something about it. Sometimes you can’t act – you may just have to settle with that difficulty, but you may be able to allow it to sit inside of you differently.
What are the things about myself that I don’t like?
Manifestly, there must be things you dislike about yourself. You might be too controlling or judgmental, say, and there is something useful in acknowledging that, so you don’t become stuck in it – recognising a trait and saying, “I don’t want to do that again.”
What will allow me to move on?
Sometimes explanations for our perceived problems are empowering, but sometimes they keep us stuck, so the question is, “What’s going to allow me to shift this?” If you blame your husband’s laziness, say, for your unhappiness, you could talk to your husband, or think: how does it serve me to feel I’m so on top of everything all the time? What can I do to not offload everything I find unsatisfactory on to other people, when I may be partly responsible myself?
Am I noticing simple acts of generosity?
You might have a nice hello with the usually grumpy greengrocer. It’s good to notice any ordinary act of generosity and connection; it isn’t costly or complex, but makes you feel like you belong in the world.
Susie Orbach is founder of the Women’s Therapy Centre and author of multiple books including In Therapy: The Unfolding Story.