A license to be happy

At an event several weeks ago, I was presented with a small piece of paper. It read:

Happiness License
This document officially grants the bearer a perpetual right to be happy,
for any reason or no reason at all, without let or hindrance.
Let no one infringe this right.

At the bottom of the license was the signature of Ajahn Brahm, the Buddhist monk from whose book it had been photocopied.  I thought it was brilliant, and worth repeating: You have permission to be happy! It's a reminder that I frequently need.

There seems to be a story out there (and in my head as well) that the pursuit of happiness is selfish, and that focusing too much on our own happiness is irresponsible. But I don't think it's true.

Just think about it. Does it make you happy when you are selfish and irresponsible? I know for sure it doesn't make me happy to be that way. In fact, it feels pretty rotten!

So why is it that we human beings act that way so much of the time?  I actually think it's because we're not pursuing happiness enough. We do plenty of things to avoid being uncomfortable (many of which do seem selfish or irresponsible), but that is not the same as pursuing happiness.

When I am authentically happy, I care more about other people, not less. My own needs are met, so I can more easily give to others. I feel loving, accepting, humble, and generous. I think the world needs a lot more of that!

The word authentic is key. There are plenty of times when I've pretended to be happy, or felt I should be happy, or tried to manipulate myself into being happy, without actually taking care of my needs. It doesn't work.

That said, it's not always obvious to me what I need. Circumstances change from moment to moment, and what made me happy yesterday may not have the same effect today. Happiness requires slowing down and paying attention to now.

What would make you authentically happy in this moment? Remember, you have permission:

• If you're hungry, you have a right to seek food.
• If you're sleepy, you have a right to seek rest.
• If you're cold, you have a right to seek warmth.
• If you're lonely, you have a right to seek connection.
• If you're ashamed, you have a right to seek forgiveness.
• If you're afraid, you have a right to seek comfort.
• If you feel a calling, you have a right to pursue it.

And if you're happy, you have a right to experience your happiness.

Is it perfectionism, or high standards?

I spent nearly two days writing my last blog post, working it and re-working it, trying hard to get the words on the page to match the grand vision in my head. It took a lot of effort, and it was time-consuming, and although it felt good to hit "Send", I still wasn't thrilled with the final product.

Many people would call that a form of perfectionism -- and it's something that's been with me all my life.

"You're too hard on yourself," people have said to me regularly. "Be realistic." "Don't try so hard to be perfect." "Don't take yourself so seriously." "Why not just accept 'good enough' and be done with it?"

All of this may have been well-meaning advice, but the real message I picked up was that there was something wrong with striving for greatness, something wrong with not wanting to settle for "good enough". These were marks of perfectionism, and perfectionism was bad. It was egotistical, unrealistic, inappropriate.

This created quite an internal conflict, because that desire for greatness, that drive to pursue what's possible, is also huge part of who I am and what makes me happy. 

So it was to my utter delight that I found myself saying to my family at the end of that tough newsletter slog last week, "Well, sometimes that's just what it's like when you have high standards for yourself."

High standards.

With that one phrase, the label of "perfectionist" suddenly lost all its power. No longer did I have a shameful character flaw; I simply cared enough about something to work harder at it than other people.

I also realized that there are plenty of areas in my life where I'm not a perfectionist. It is not a global trait.

It made me wonder: Does everyone have some areas where they look like a perfectionist to the average person? Do you? Are there certain situations where you are especially hard on yourself, or quick to notice people's shortcomings, or frustrated when other people don't care as much as you do? If so, maybe those are the areas where you have the most to contribute to the world, where it's especially important that you not pull back and try to be just like everyone else, but instead strive to get a little closer to perfection every day.

Thank you for putting in the work.

What do you do with hurt and disappointment?

I've been reading Carry On, Warrior, written by Glennon Doyle Melton of Momastery fame.

There is a chapter in which she beautifully -- and hilariously -- describes her first birthday after getting married. (Here's a link to it, if you want to read it yourself.)

In a nutshell: Her new husband didn't know that birthday celebrations were a huge deal to her, and didn't do much to honor her special day, which left her feeling hurt and disappointed. Then two great things happened: 1) she told him what she actually wanted and why; and 2) he gladly gave it to her.

Could it really be that easy? 

No, it isn't always. But reading her story, I realized there was a lot more I could do to make those win-win scenarios more likely to happen in my relationships, both in asking and in giving.

When people hurt and disappoint me, do I let them know, or keep my mouth shut and pretend everything is fine?

You don't really need all that special treatment, I could imagine saying to myself in the birthday scenario, trying to talk myself out of the disappointment. Why not just let him be who he is, and try to appreciate all the other things he does well?

Thoughts like that can make me feel strong and self-reliant, but they also tell me that what I want is unimportant, which can make me feel resentful and victimized. And by not letting people know their impact on me, I rob them of the information they need to truly make me happy. It is not nice!

When I am at my best, the conversation in my head is different: It is okay to ask for things, I might say. You won't always get what you want, but you are big enough to handle that. It doesn't mean you were wrong for asking. After all, the point of asking is not to bend other people to your will, but simply to remind yourself that you matter. Because you do matter. You deserve to be happy!

When other people have the courage to tell me what they want from me, do I help them get it, or do I resist?

I don't always listen to people when they tell me what they want. This can't possibly be as important to them as they say it is, I've thought more than once. They just don't know what's good for them. Or: It's really unfair of them to ask that of me. Don't they know it's out of my comfort zone? 

Again, these are all justifiable thoughts, but talking myself out of being generous comes with a cost. It leaves a person I care about feeling unheard and unimportant, while I miss out on the joy of making them happy. And I am left alone in my "comfort" zone, feeling self-righteous and small.

What is the alternative? 

It is okay to try something and fail, I remind myself. Maybe you will embarrass yourself. Maybe you will do your best and they will still be disappointed. But their disappointment is not under your control. You are only in control of what you do. And you will sleep better knowing that you tried, that you loved someone enough to take a risk on their behalf, and that you are bigger and more courageous than you thought.

May we all get better and better at this.

Maybe we're not broken, just bent

In honor of Valentine's Day, I want to share with you one of my favorite relationship songs. It's called Just Give Me A Reason, by P!nk, and I love it because it beautifully captures that moment in a relationship when you realize you don't feel love -- and you want to.

You're not connecting well.  Resentments have been building up. You're feeling lonely, unappreciated. You're being judgmental and impatient. Perhaps you are scared. Scared that the love is gone forever. Scared that you've changed, or the other person has changed, or that your love wasn't even real to begin with. You feel trapped, angry, ashamed, stuck.

And then there's this song, with its beautiful lines: "We're not broken, just bent!"  "We can learn to love again."  "Nothing is as bad as it seems."  It is possible to start over.

You realize, perhaps, that all the pain you've been experiencing may not be the truth. That there is hope. And that all it may take is just one little gesture, one small reaching out, to shift everything. It doesn't matter how hard it's gotten, how much hurt there has been. You can re-commit any time. You have a choice.

As my friend Wendy pointed out in her recent blog post, it can be crazy-making to try to engineer the perfect Valentine's Day, especially when you're not "feeling it."  But let's not give the day more importance than it deserves. We have the opportunity to give and receive love every day, in any moment, and it doesn't have to be some over-the-top display.

This doesn't apply only to our romantic relationships, either.

For me, small acts of love include turning off my computer to connect with my daughter after school.  Staying an extra minute at bedtime to scratch my son's back, even when it's late. Looking up from what I'm doing when my husband comes home. Checking in with a friend, rather than telling myself that I'm too busy. I'm embarrassed to admit that more times than not I don't do these things. And yet choosing them makes such a difference.  

Small acts of love matter to the people I care about, and perhaps even more importantly, they matter to me.  They remind me that, even as distracted and self-centered and imperfect as I can be, underneath it all my love is not broken, and neither are my relationships. 

Your love isn't broken either.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Where beauty (doesn't) come from

Walking in the mall this morning, I was enticed over to a kiosk by the offer of some free moisturizer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a chair with some kind of gel under one eye, and a promise that if I used this product every day for a year it will be the equivalent of getting a "non-surgical face lift." The bags and wrinkles around my eyes would disappear, and I would look 10 years younger.

At the end, the salesperson showed me my face in the mirror. One eye looked the way it always does, and the other eye indeed had fewer wrinkles around it.  (It also looked a little bit puffy.) She asked what I thought.  

"It's interesting," I said, "but not really something I need." Then I told her, "My happiness really doesn't come from my face." It wasn't meant to be condescending, even though I'm afraid it sounded that way. It was just so obvious for me in that moment, faced with this opportunity to be younger, smoother, better, that the whole thing was irrelevant. 

I wanted to say something more, something that would remind this woman that she, too, would be just as beautiful without her own makeup. But I didn't have the words, so I simply said thanks and walked away.

I keep thinking about that kiosk, though. The salesperson wanted to delight me, to offer me something that I'd be excited about, that would make me feel beautiful and confident, maybe even lucky.

What would have done that?

What would I do if I had a kiosk in the mall and full access to all those great passers-by?

I'm still thinking about that question, and all of the viral YouTube videos that suggest ideas: free hugs,  simple acts of kindness, invitations to reflect on what matters. There are so many options.

What would you do? What could you do?  What would you experience as a gift if someone offered it to you at the mall?

If you have an idea, get in touch with me. I would love to help make it happen.

Want to be happier? Try this exercise.

How would you complete this sentence: "I am happier when I...."?  

I made a big long list for myself this morning, and just the act of doing it made me happy.  

I am happier when I laugh, when I feel well-rested, when I move my body, when I breathe deeply, when I notice my surroundings, when I spend time outside, when I fulfill my commitments, when I am patient with my imperfections, when I feel like I'm learning, when I think about what matters to me, when I appreciate people, when I feel listened to, when I allow myself to feel what I'm feeling, when I see things from a new perspective, when I do things that scare me, when I remember how much I don't know, ....

What about you? How many different answers can you come up with? Are some of them things you can do something about right now, in this moment?

I like being happy.  And I am grateful to feel like I have some choice in the matter.

What if we weren't afraid to judge people?

I got annoyed with my husband the other day for the way he stirred his breakfast cereal. 

I didn't say anything out loud, but internally my little judgment toward him triggered a chain reaction of anxiety.

If you've seen the movie Inside Out, perhaps you can picture Fear saying something like this: "Oh no! That's a negative thought! Negative thoughts are bad... That must mean I am bad! But I can't be bad. People won't love me any more! I need to fix that thought so I can be good again!"

I wasn't aware of any words, of course. All I "knew" was that something was wrong with what I was experiencing, and that I needed to do something about it.

At first, I tried to replace the "bad" thought about my husband with gratitude for all his wonderful characteristics, but it felt forced and inauthentic. After all, this wasn't even really about him.

Finally, I realized the source of the fear was the belief that I was a bad person for having petty, judgmental thoughts.

Which is ridiculous.

I started to talk myself down: People have petty, judgmental thoughts all the time, Annie, but that doesn't mean they are, at their core, petty, judgmental people. And neither are you. Your thoughts are just thoughts! They are not your identify, they are not the truth, and they don't need to be in control. They don't mean anything about you at all. They are just your brain doing what it does, trying to keep you safe. And your brain doesn't always get it right. Don't worry, you are okay. Breathe.

In that moment of giving myself a little love and attention, not only did my anxiety get released, but the judgment toward my husband went away too. Win-win!  I'd also like to think that it helped re-wire my brain a little, so that the next time I experienced a judgmental thought, it didn't throw me so far off-balance.

Now, you may or may not share my particular hangup about being judgmental, but I expect I'm not the only one who gets anxious about having "unacceptable" thoughts, or judges other people for having them.  

No one wants to be petty, selfish, fearful, judgmental, vindictive, lazy, or [fill in the blank for you], but the truth is we all have thoughts like that from time to time. And it is so easy to confuse those thoughts with our identity: I thought/felt "x"; therefore I'm bad. They thought/felt "y"; therefore they are bad. And people who are bad need to be fixed, punished....

It's just not true.

Your thoughts are not your identity. They don't mean anything about your worth or goodness or lovability. They just mean that you're human, with a brain that has a tendency to feel threatened.

If you are someone who can relate to feeling guilty or anxious about the thoughts in your head, I invite you to take it easy on yourself in this moment -- and in as many other moments as possible. The world doesn't benefit from any of us going around beating ourselves up.

Boundaries aren't just about saying "no"

I can't remember how I came across Katharine DiCerbo, but I like her stuff.  She writes and teaches about what she calls "the connection crafts" -- ways to create and nurture emotional connections in everyday life -- and recently posted this blog piece for people pleasers that I thought was really insightful.  

Essentially, her message is that if you're someone who tries hard to please people, and find yourself feeling burned out and taken advantage of, the answer is not (as you've likely been told) just to get better at saying no to people's requests. In fact, saying "no" can be really uncomfortable because it can feel like withholding kindness and generosity, which are some of the best parts of you. Withholding your gifts is not the answer, because it won't make you happy. And if it doesn't make you happy, it is not going to be sustainable.

Instead, the challenge is to let other people give to you more. Let them know what you like, what you need, who you are -- so that they can experience the same joy in pleasing you as you experience pleasing them.  

Far from being a burden to them, this sharing of yourself is a gift. It helps other people recognize that they have something of value to offer you. It also helps you remember that you are not an island, and that you deserve to be loved and cared for just as much as anyone else.

If any of this resonates for you, I strongly encourage you to read all of Katharine's blog post, A Powerful Way to Make People Pleasing Work For You, Not Against You.

Do we ALL need to pursue happiness and success?

According to Dennis Pratt, founder of the Greater Boston Area Personal Growth Network, personal growth is the practice of "consciously and proactively creating more happiness and success" in life.

I used to assume that this was something everyone was interested in -- or rather, they would be, if only they were willing to give it a try. After all, it was valuable to me -- how could that value not be universal? This assumption ran so deep in me that even when people flat out said they weren't interested in personal growth, I couldn't quite believe it. I assumed they must be ignorant, or afraid, or in denial. 

Or maybe, I eventually realized, they are just different from me.

Thank goodness for those differences.

Can you imagine a world filled with nothing but personal growth experts? Who would plant the food? Create art? Invent smartphones? Tell stories? Fix broken bones? Maintain the roads? It is a scary thought!

But I also wouldn't want to live in a world without people committed to personal growth.  Who would motivate and encourage us to set ambitious goals? Remind us that we have the freedom to do what we love? Help us find meaning in our life stories? Show us by their example that great things are possible? 

Both the challenge and the beauty of life is there is no one right way to live. We really do have the freedom to choose, and no choice can make us fundamentally better or worse than anyone else.

That said, if you do happen to be into personal growth, and live anywhere in the greater Boston area, I highly recommend checking out the Personal Growth Network. It is free to join, and offers tons of workshops and social events to support people like you. I am the organizer for gatherings in the MetroWest region, and would love to see you there.

Messages of encouragement

The end-of-year review season was tough for me this year. There is so much to be grateful for, so much to be proud of, and yet still so much room for improvement - in my work, my family life, my finances, my fitness, my home. It's had me feeling discouraged and self-critical, and feeling like a fraud.  How can I possibly teach happiness if I still get trapped in my own negativity? 

So I wrote a letter of encouragement to myself. It went something like this:

Dear Annie, I know you've been having a really hard time lately, feeling confused and disappointed and not good enough. No doubt, pursuing your dreams can be hard, and things don't always make sense. But here's what I know about you: Your capacity to love is boundless, and with that love you've already made more of a difference than you can possibly realize. I don't think you're on a fool's errand, and I don't think you're wasting your time. Things may not roll out exactly according to the your plans, but that doesn't mean anything is wrong. I, for one, am SO grateful to have you in my life, as a friend and an inspiration and a beautiful, vulnerable, imperfect human being. I love you and I'm here for you, no matter what. Whatever the future holds, I know you can handle it.  Bring it on. Love, me

Is it silly to write love letters to myself? Maybe. But it also made a difference. It helped me get unstuck, helped me breathe. It helped me quit beating myself up, and helped me see the people around me with more compassion too. Love is bigger than fear, more powerful than judgments. It works every time.

You don't have to write a letter to yourself to reap the benefits, though. Writing one to someone else has the same effect -- with the added bonus that it also supports them. Here are a few suggestions if you want to give it a try:

Who to write to:
My personal belief is that there isn't anyone who couldn't use some encouragement, but you might start with people who are:

• Working toward a goal that's challenging
• Struggling with pain, loss, or stress of any kind
• Starting something new, or entering a period of uncertainty
• Doing something you think is really great and want to see continue

What you might include in your message:

• Acknowledge the truth of the situation. What do they want? What are they up against?
• Call out the strengths you see in them. What do you admire and appreciate?
• Share your hopes for them. What do you believe is possible?
• Encourage them to keep going. What they want matters, and what they do is important.
• Let them know that you'll love them no matter what happens.

Pitfalls to avoid:

• Problem-solving. Suggesting or implying that there's something specific they should do.
• Perfectionism. Trying to impress them rather than simply loving them.
• Asking for or expecting something in return. The best gifts come with no strings attached.

Want help with your message?  Email me any time. And if you send one, let me know how it goes!