Happiness, despite of
Can you be happy when everything around you is falling apart?
“Sometimes, I feel like you’re not happy. I want to make you happy. But I don’t know how. And I feel like whatever I do, it’s never enough.”
We’re sitting in a dimly-lit restaurant. Or maybe we’re having breakfast at a café that serves sourdough bread and overpriced coffee. Perhaps we’re taking a walk with the dog. Or is it a family lunch? A text message you don’t feel like answering or a phone call you don’t want to pick up? I can’t recall.
I’ve heard these words (or some variation of these words, if you will) more often than I care to remember. Why are you always so negative. Why are you always in that mood. Why can’t you just be grateful for what you have. Why are you like that. Why aren’t you happy. Why can’t you be happy. Why can’t you just be happy. And it’s a knife. Sharp. Precise. Makes you want to look away. Like those needles that activate the substance, giving you the illusion that you’re finally a Sue. You know, the best version of yourself.
You are the matrix. Everything comes from you. Everything is you.
You can't escape from yourself.
For most of my life, I thought I needed things to make me happy. People. Love from my mom. Friends to play with. Good grades. More friends. After school hobbies. Being more like that one girl that my mom always said was better than me at everything. See how well she behaves. See how good she is at school. See how she doesn’t bother her parents. Being the best at everything. A thin body. No pimples. Long hair. A college degree. Even more friends. An interesting, kind of mysterious but also very approachable personality. A boyfriend. Moving to another city because I’ll never make it if I stay here. An internship. My dream job. A thinner body. Great clothes. Stunning makeup. Another job. A better relationship. A wedding. Marriage and kids. A house. Another job. An even thinner body. Leaner legs. Lean legs. A bit of botox to hide that line on my forehead, even though I can’t afford it and no one can really see it. Feeling cooler. Cool. Being smarter. Smart. Talented. So talented. Subscribers. Readers. A book. More readers. That very specific person telling me how great I am. She’s so good. Can you believe how good she is. Validation. More validation. More.
Happiness and success are woven tightly together into one big tapestry. Are you ever successful (by any metric) if you aren’t actually happy? Or as one of my favorite quotes reads, if you’re so smart, why aren’t you happy?
From if you're so smart, why aren't you happy? by Erifili Gounari
Years passed. I would constantly tell myself, when I get that, when I get there, I’ll be happy. Then, then I’ll be happy. If life was a game of poker, I would be that one player dragging all her chips to the center of the table. All or nothing. All in. All in for that one hand that will change everything. That one hand that will make everything feel better. Make everything feel good. A Royal Flush, if you will. Ace. King. Queen. Jack. Ten. All in the same suit. Then what?
Nothing.
I fold.
Can you be happy when everything around you is falling apart? When you get to the end of yet another year and feel like you failed at life yet again? When all the hopes, expectations and plans you had fall through? I find it hard. In fact, every time I think about happiness, I think of the Buenos Aires episode of Parts Unknown. There’s this moment where Anthony Bourdain says “I’d like to be happy. I’d like to be happier. I’d like to be able to look out the window and say, hey, life is good.” When his therapist asks if he doesn’t experience happiness, he replies no. “Never?” “Maybe a few seconds here and there.” For some reason, his answer has stuck with me. Perhaps because I can relate to it—to this sentiment of being happy for very brief, fleeting moments, only to feel that happiness leave my body right in front of me. It’s like my essence is being detached from my physical self.
This feeling has often made me wonder if I’m just bad at being happy. A few months ago, I wrote about how my obsession with timelines was making me miserable and preventing me from feeling real joy. This is not to say that I didn’t have my reasons for feeling sad, frustrated or angry, many times even depressed, but I have questioned myself over and over again about whether or not this had more to do with my perspective and less with the situation itself. Have I been doing this whole happiness thing all wrong? Is it as easy as allowing yourself to just be content without the pressure of getting somewhere, getting something, to finally be happy? If you can trick your brain into always seeing the bad side of things, can you also teach it to do the opposite?
I’ve always preferred to be pessimistic about life. The classic, if I’m always expecting failure, I’ll never be disappointed. Relationships, jobs, aspirations; everything was subject to this lens of negativity. I’ll never be loved. I’ll never get it. I’ll never make it. It gave me the illusion that I had the upper hand. If (when) things go wrong, I won’t be caught off guard. Sadness also has a perverse power over me, this profoundly wrong belief that being down makes you somehow more whole, more complex, more nuanced. Gives you the depth that a satisfied life, with all its simplicity, peace and apparent boredom, could never achieve. Of course, it’s a reflection of my own lack of self-worth. The need to have everything under control, only to realize it’s nothing but a false sense of control. Convincing yourself that you can actually play god in your own life. Observing, anticipating, moving accordingly. Treating it like a game of chess where you win if you simply stick to logic, mathematical reason, rules and possibilities (can you tell she’s reading Intermezzo?) It’s an exhausting way of carrying yourself—I do have the clarity to admit that now, that focusing exclusively on the shitty parts of an otherwise pretty nice, decent life is a strange form of self-awareness.
I make New Years Resolutions that I should live life more presently, actively, but words are just words. I’m a glass half full watching myself go through motions on autopilot, but I only feel partially there like a lazily caffeinated fever dream.
From postcards by elle, can you see right through me?
It’s also exhausting when you bet all your happiness (and, almost by default, your value and your purpose) onto these big moments. I realized that the hard way this year. When something that was supposed to make you happy doesn’t happen, you’re left feeling empty. You mourn what could have been. And if you hold on for too long, you end up missing what is, those other things that are also passing by in real time, equally worth your time, attention, and contentment. The sun kissing your skin on a cold day. The smell of books. The way the pages feel on your fingers. Toast with butter. The first bite of a really good pastry. Bumping into a friend you haven’t seen in months on the subway. An unexpected text from someone you love. A small comment under something you wrote. Exchanging a smile with a stranger. Going on a date for no special reason other than just because. Your dog wiggling his tail every time he sees you. Something really funny. Something really cute. Flowers in your home. Being healthy enough to move your body. Being strong enough to push the red spring. Being smart enough to know that sadness is just a passing feeling that comes, goes, and then comes back again; not a barometer for what you do or don’t deserve.
Taking yet another break from finishing what I think will be my last newsletter of the year, I decided to set aside some time to read Allegra Samsen’s essay 2024. There’s this part where she writes, “I did not want to have any resolutions. I instead gave myself new responsibilities to myself that would inspire joy.” I don’t think I could relate more; as I reach the end of what has been one of the most challenging years of my life, I find myself lacking the energy to commit to any sort of resolutions. I feel like I don’t want to invite that pressure in, let alone shame myself if I don’t accomplish everything over the next 12 months. Of course I have my goals and aspirations, and I want to see them come true soon. I want to get married, live in a country that is eleven hours ahead of mine, visit Japan, write a book, have kids, change careers, study to become a Pilates instructor, maybe open a studio one day. Failing at these (some more than others) would undoubtedly make me feel stuck. But I also don’t want to become so absorbed by these things that I forget to enjoy the rest. I don’t want to be that person who is so obsessed with the milestones, that she’s incapable of acknowledging the small wins, or being proud of herself for achieving goals that she thinks are insignificant just because others don’t see the value in them.
I didn’t come here not to enjoy every moment and suck the marrow out of life.
So, instead of driving myself crazy with resolutions that feel overwhelming, I’ll set simpler intentions. I’ll stop undermining the things I do. When a friend says she liked something I wrote, I won’t jump to say it’s nothing. I’ll say thank you. Maybe I’ll throw in a, I think it turned out great, too. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I won’t feel too hurt when someone whose validation is important to me doesn’t see my efforts, because I’ll be my biggest cheerleader. I’ll still wish for them to say something, but I’ll be whole even if they don’t. I’ll be proud, not only because I have reasons to, but because I deserve to. I’ll work on being content, even when I don’t feel happy. Not because I don’t aspire for more, not because I’m not worthy of more, not because I want to settle and leave it at that. But because I don’t want to just focus on what I don’t have (yet) or what I can’t do (yet). And eventually, I’ll be able to be happy. Despite of, I’ll be happy.
Five things before you go
This year I had the pleasure of writing for two people / projects that I love and admire. The first was a sort of short story about candles for dear Menez, the most beautiful flower shop created by the talented and beautiful Beatriz. The second was a series of small reminders for Sequin Fight, a project spreading love and empathy by the stunning soul that is Mafalda—who so kindly invited me to write about surviving 2024 and how we’re all just doing our best to make it through the hard times.
Valerie is one of my favorite people to read on Substack. Before you mentally check out of 2024 for good (we’re all at 99,9% by now, I know) put some time aside to read our year of zest and realizations.
And while you’re at it, don’t skip embodying the world i want to live in from by Jordan Santos. It’s a beautiful piece where she talks about her 81-year-old neighbor and their relationship.
If you read Nobody is reading this, you might remember Things you should be reading instead, a column featuring some of my favorite people. The first was with my dear friend Sofia, who recently launched Table Manners, a stunning account that everyone who enjoys food and beautiful things should follow.
Last but not least, thank you so much for reading and subscribing to Nobody is reading this. Writing has been one of the highlights of the year, and I’m forever grateful to anyone who reads what I have to say. This little corner of the internet has given me so much already: a space to do what I love most, to connect with amazing people, to have meaningful conversations with friends. Words (ironically) can’t describe how much it all means to me. 💌
i have chills. the first few paragraphs in particular — really spoke to me. been there! i’m new to your substack but can already tell you’re far more talented and worthy and capable than you give yourself credit for. i also think about that parts unknown episode often ❤️🔥
Quando mais indicudualista/egoísta for a sociedade, mais depressa se espalham estas ideias de felicidade faça você mesmo, da qual somos todos vítimas hoje emdia. Não estás feliz? o que estarás a fazer de errado? não és bem sucedido, o que estarás a fazer de errado?
O que está errado é o ideal de felicidade actual, baseado na ideia que todos conseguem ser igualmente felizes, na mesma dose e com o mesmo método. Isso está completamente errado. Eu por exemplo, sou bastante feliz quando vejo o nascer do sol. Mas isso não depende só de mim, depende também da meteorologia, do sítio onde vivo ou da poluição da minha cidade. A felicidade como um fim nunca será alcançada, basta questionarmo-nos: qual é o fim da felicidade?
Mas é isso que o ideal de felicidade actual nos tenta vender: tudo depende de ti e do controlo que tens da tua vida, o que é errado e leva as pessoas a sentirem-se estigmatizadas e inferiores