Thursday 9 June 2011

Push the bell and come on in

Getting started, or perhaps not, on the happiness programme

You know that feeling, when you find yourself standing at the threshold of somewhere new. Your finger is just about to push the bell. You know that means you'll walk inside soon and in some small way your life will be different. Whether it's starting a new job or meeting new people or studying something different, you know that if you press the bell you will change. So, just in that moment, you feel uneasy. Do you need this? Is it worth the effort? Should you just turn round and go home? Change can be tiring. And it's not always good.

Well, you can leave now. Because you're right to feel uneasy. Things will change.

It could be that you default to mild unhappiness because that's where you feel comfortable. That's where you feel at home.

Sounds a crazy thing to say?

Perhaps a state of anxiety or depression is your own special nest. It's the place you can return to from a frightening world, the place you know well, where you don't have to try, don't have to put on a mask, don't have to give one impression but feel a fraud because inside you are not that person. Back in your comfy sad nest you can truly relax. You feel as if you are back in Mummy's arms, home, safe, in a world where everything is familiar, where you are welcomed. You are unhappy. It's what you grew up with, it's what you know.

We all pick up a notion of what is acceptable or normal from our mother, father and siblings. Perhaps you picked up unhappiness. Perhaps being a bit down was just the way it was at home. Or perhaps showing happiness was frowned upon. Perhaps smiling broadly and saying 'I feel really good today' was never something that happened in your house.

Think back. How often did your father laugh?

Not laugh at you for doing something silly or incompetent. This laugh is common among parents, especially when friends are around. It says, 'Ha ha isn't she a funny little thing...compared with me, my friends, who am thoroughly grown up, competent, in control of myself and others'. Not laugh at his colleagues or boss at work because they had done something that would fail. No. How often did he laugh from sheer happiness? That laugh we see on TV advertising where all's right with the world. That unconditional open laugh that delights in something good that's happening.

How often did your mother laugh? That big relaxed open-faced mirth that would not be hidden? Not laugh at herself when she'd done something she felt showed her as foolish. But just laugh because life was good and she couldn't help but show it.

Think back. Picture your father when you were ten years old. What is his expression? Worry, a frown, uneasy, condescending, approving, proud? Is he laughing?

Think back. Picture your mother when you were ten years old. What is her expression? Worry, a frown, uneasy, tired, in a hurry, reprimanding, proud? Is she laughing?

It is not as though smiles and laughs are unknown at home. It's just that very often they carry a message which is different from happiness.

Take smiling, that half-way house to laughter. We learn that you get a smile if you say 'please', get good test results or help out at home. The smile is not a sign of happiness, it's more a sort of code for approval. In fact even when parents say, 'that makes me happy', it's often more a form of teaching, giving you approval for doing the right thing. Teaching is a big part of parenting and displaying the outward signs of happiness is a useful tool. But if a smile is always linked to learning a lesson or doing well on a task then we learn that happiness is just what happens to people when other people do what they want.

And it's common for us all to use laughter to cover up unpleasant feelings in company (and even in private, in our own inner conversations). We 'laugh off' disappointment and failure so that people around us, or even we ourselves, will not feel our pain. As children we see through this. Laughter becomes a signal of lack of achievement. We learn to distrust laughter.

And we use laughter to judge others when we feel they are 'getting above themselves' (heaven forbid!) This laughter is a sort of aggression. When we hear a parent laughing in this situation we do not hear happiness, we hear disappointment, envy, jealousy, irritation and anger.

In contrast, note how much worry we experience at home. Parents illustrate through frowns that life is a serious business. They are tired, frustrated, rushed off their feet, unsure of the future, struggling to cope with the bills. They might not spell all of these things out but the worry of it all pervades the home. Worry is fine. Perhaps even worry is expected of a person who takes their responsibilities seriously and does the right thing by the family. So we learn to look and feel just a bit worried. To be more open about the negative than the positive. Being happy is frivolous. It's unthinking. It's OK for children but you need to grow out of it.

Well we all want to grow up and have the power our parents have. So, no surprise if most of us start to adopt a general demeanour of worry and keep happiness concealed or just for when we 'let ourselves go' at parties with teenage friends, when we're in love, on a funfair ride, splashing around in a pool in the sunshine.

Happiness becomes a foreign thing. Worry, anxiety or mild depression becomes the thing we know, even aspire to. It becomes comfortable. It feels like home. It feels right. It feels good. It is the adult way.

So. Think for a moment. Do you really want to be happy? Well, yes of course you do. But be prepared for a struggle with yourself over making it a normal part of your life. Unhappiness is possibly a deeply-rooted habit which, like all habits, will take a lot of effort to change.

We tend to think of happiness as the most natural thing in the world. But we've come a long way from the directness implied by that word 'natural'. Laughter indicates aggression or a sense of failure. A smile means approval. The outward signals of happiness have become corrupted. Little wonder if we find simple happiness hard to feel.

Start to break the unhappiness habit.

Acknowledge your parents did the best they could (after all, where did they learn their parenting skills?) And if you are a parent, work hard to show direct simple happiness through smiling and laughter whenever you can. Don't ration it or save it up for the weekend or the holidays. Show it every day you feel it. Let moments of your own happiness radiate out to everyone around you even if these moments are rare right now. Be a smiley mum or a jolly dad.

Expect life to be good to you. Stop that frown in its tracks. Make frowning foreign, odd, uncomfortable. Whenever you can, pause, take stock. Are you frowning, looking anxious, feeling rushed off your feet? Stop. Really, what's the rush? Or are you frowning because life is serious, the bills are mounting up, the country's run by idiots? Stop. There will always be bills and politicians will always make mistakes.

Here's the very first exercise of this programme. Do it before you even start reading the rest of the book.

Relax and think about the things that make you smile.

The sun is shining. This coffee tastes good. Simple, straightforward things. Things that bring an unsophisticated childish delight.

Now, smile.

It's OK to find life pleasant. It's cool to laugh. Even at work.

So, before you begin this programme, wave goodbye to Mummy and Daddy.

Now press that doorbell and come on in!


 


 


 

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