The Happiness Project

by Gretchen Rubin

  Before I could figure out my resolutions for the month, I had to clarify my thinking about money. I was skeptical of much of what I read. In particular, I kept seeing the argument “Money can’t buy happiness,” but it certainly seemed that people appear fairly well convinced about the significance of money to their happiness. Money is not without its benefits, and the opposite case, though frequently made, has never proved widely persuasive. And in fact, studies show that people in wealthier countries do report being happier than people in poorer countries, and within a particular country, people with more money do tend to be happier than those with less. Also, as countries become richer, their citizens become less focused on physical and economic security and more concerned with goals such as happiness and self-realization. Prosperity allows us to turn our attention to more transcendent matters—to yearn for lives not just of material comfort but of meaning, balance, and joy.

  Within the United States, according to a 2006 Pew Research Center study, 49 percent of people with an annual family income of more than $100,000 said they were “very happy,” in contrast to 24 percent of those with an annual family income of less than $30,000. And the percentages of reported happiness increased as income rose: 24 percent for those earning under $30,000; 33 percent for $30,000 to under $75,000; 38 percent for $75,000 to under $100,000; and 49 percent for more than $100,000. (Now, it’s also true that there may be some reverse correlation: happy people become rich faster because they’re more appealing to other people and their happiness helps them succeed.)

  Also, it turns out that while the absolute level of wealth matters, relative ranking matters as well. One important way that people evaluate their circumstances is to compare themselves with the people around them and with their own previous experiences. For instance, people measure themselves against their age peers, and making more money than others in their age group tends to make people happier. Along the same lines, research shows that people who live in a neighborhood with richer people tend to be less happy than those in a neighborhood where their neighbors make about as much money as they do. A study of workers in various industries showed that their job satisfaction was less tied to their salaries than to how their salaries compared to their coworkers’ salaries. People understand the significance of this principle: in one study, a majority of people chose to earn $50,000 where others earned $25,000, rather than earn $100,000 where others earned $250,000. My mother grew up feeling quite well-to-do in my parents’ little hometown of North Platte, Nebraska, because her father had a highly coveted union job as an engineer on the Union Pacific Railroad. By contrast, a friend told me that he had felt poor growing up in New York City because he lived on Fifth Avenue above 96th Street—the less fashionable section of a very fashionable street.

  The proponents of the “Money can’t buy happiness” argument point to studies showing that people in the United States don’t rate their quality of life much more highly than do people living in poverty in Calcutta—even though, of course, they live in vastly more comfortable circumstances. Most people, the world over, rate themselves as mildly happy.

  It’s admirable that people can find happiness in circumstances of poverty as well as in circumstances of plenty. That’s the resilience of the human spirit. But I don’t think that a particular individual would be indifferent to the disparities between the streets of Calcutta and the ranch houses of Atlanta. The fact is, people aren’t made deliriously happy by the luxuries of salt and cinnamon (once so precious) or electricity or air-conditioning or cell phones or the Internet, because they come to accept these once-luxury goods as part of ordinary existence. That doesn’t mean, however, that because people have learned to take clean water for granted, it no longer matters to their quality of life. Indeed, if that were true, would it mean it would be pointless to bother to try to improve the material circumstances of those folks in Calcutta?

  But as I went deeper into the mystery of money, I was pulled toward research and analysis suitable for an entirely different book, away from my most pressing interest. Sure, I wanted to “Go off the path” to a point, and maybe one day I would devote an entire book to the topic, but for the moment, I didn’t have to solve the enigma of money. I just needed to figure out how happiness and money fit together.

  So was I arguing that “Money can buy happiness”? The answer: no. That was clear. Money alone can’t buy happiness.

  But, as a follow-up, I asked myself, “Can money help buy happiness?” The answer: yes, used wisely, it can. Whether rich or poor, people make choices about how they spend money, and those choices can boost happiness or undermine it. It’s a mistake to assume that money will affect everyone the same way. No statistical average could say how a particular individual would be affected by money—depending on that individual’s circumstances and temperament. After a lot of thinking, I identified three factors that shape the significance of money to individuals:

  It depends on what kind of person you are.

  Money has a different value to different people. You might love to collect modern art, or you might love to rent old movies. You might have six children and ailing, dependent parents, or you might have no children and robust parents. You might love to travel, or you might prefer to putter around the house. You might care about eating organic, or you might be satisfied with the cheapest choices at the grocery store.

  It depends on how you spend your money.

  Some purchases are more likely to contribute to your happiness than others. You might buy cocaine, or you might buy a dog. You might splurge on a big-screen TV, or you might splurge on a new bike.

  It depends on how much money you have relative to the people around you and relative to your own experience.

  One person’s fortune is another person’s misfortune.

  Developing and applying a three-factor test brought back pleasant memories of being a law student, and it was a helpful framework, but it was complex. I wanted a more cogent way to convey the relationship between money and happiness.

  As I was mulling this over, one afternoon I picked up Eleanor the wrong way as I leaned over her crib, and the next morning, I woke up with agonizing back pain. For almost a month, I couldn’t sit for long, I found it hard to type, I had trouble sleeping, and of course I couldn’t stop picking up Eleanor, so I kept reaggravating the injury.

  “You should go see my physical therapist,” urged my father-in-law, who had suffered from back problems for years. “There’s a lot they can do.”

  “I’m sure it will get better on its own,” I kept insisting.

  One night as I struggled to turn over in bed, I thought, “Ask for help! Bob says that physical therapy works; why am I resisting?”

  I called Bob at work, got the information, made an appointment at the physical therapist’s office, and two visits later, I was 100 percent better. It felt like a miracle. And one day after my pain was gone, I took my health for granted once again—and I had the Epiphany of the Back Spasm. Money doesn’t buy happiness the way good health doesn’t buy happiness.

  When money or health is a problem, you think of little else; when it’s not a problem, you don’t think much about it. Both money and health contribute to happiness mostly in the negative; the lack of them brings much more unhappiness than possessing them brings happiness.

  Being healthy doesn’t guarantee happiness. Lots of healthy people are very unhappy. Many of them squander their health or take it for granted. In fact, some people might even be better off with some physical limitation that would prevent them from making destructive choices. (I once went on vacation with a group that included the most wild and reckless guy I’d ever met, and I was quite relieved when he broke his foot during an early escapade, because the mishap prevented him from getting up to much more mischief.) Ditto, money. But the fact that good health doesn’t guarantee happiness doesn’t mean that good health doesn’t matter to happiness. Similarly, money. Used wisely, each can contribute greatly to happiness.

  The Firs
t Splendid Truth holds that to think about happiness, we should think about feeling good, feeling bad, and feeling right, in an atmosphere of growth. Money is most important for happiness in the “feeling bad” category. People’s biggest worries include financial anxiety, health concerns, job insecurity, and having to do tiring and boring chores. Spent correctly, money can go a long way to solving these problems. I was extremely fortunate to be in a position where money wasn’t a source of feeling bad. We had plenty of money to do what we wanted—even enough to feel secure, the toughest and most precious thing for money to buy. I resolved to do a better job of spending money in ways that could boost my happiness by supporting the other three elements of happiness.

  INDULGE IN A MODEST SPLURGE.

  I didn’t spend enough time thinking about how money could buy me happiness.

  I’d always had a vague sense that spending money was self-indulgent and that I should avoid spending money whenever possible. I once spent six very satisfying months living in San Francisco on $5 a day (except when I had to use the Laundromat). Now, however, I decided to find ways to spend to further my happiness goals. Studies show that people’s basic psychological needs include the need to feel secure, to feel good at what they do, to be loved, to feel connected to others, and to have a strong sense of control. Money doesn’t automatically fill these requirements, but it sure can help. People at every level of income can choose to direct their spending in ways that take them closer to happiness—or not.

  I wanted to spend money to stay in closer contact with my family and friends; to promote my energy and health; to create a more serene environment in my apartment; to work more efficiently; to eliminate sources of boredom, irritation, and marital conflict; to support causes that I thought important; and to have experiences that would enlarge me. So, category by category, I looked for ways to spend money to support my happiness goals—within reason, of course.

  For health and energy: in January, I’d already found a way to spend money to get better exercise. My strength-training workouts were expensive, but I was happy to know that I was doing something important for my long-term health. I also started spending more for food when I had to grab lunch outside our apartment. I’d always congratulated myself when I ducked into a deli to buy a bagel, because it was such a cheap and quick meal, but I stopped that. Instead, I gave myself a mental gold star for getting a big salad or soup and fruit, even though those choices were much more expensive.

  For relationships: I’d give a party for my sister’s wedding. It would be a major expenditure but also a major source of happiness. My relationship with my sister—and now with her fiancé—were among the most important in my life, but the fact that they lived in Los Angeles was a challenge. Hosting a party would be a way to make my own contribution to the wedding weekend.

  For work: I bought some pens. Normally, I used makeshift pens, the kind of unsatisfactory implements that somehow materialized in my bag or in a drawer. But one day, when I was standing in line to buy envelopes, I caught sight of a box of my favorite kind of pen: the Deluxe Uniball Micro.

  “Two ninety-nine for one pen!” I thought. “That’s ridiculous.” But after a fairly lengthy internal debate, I bought four.

  It’s such a joy to write with a good pen instead of making do with an underinked pharmaceutical promotional pen picked up from a doctor’s office. My new pens weren’t cheap, but when I think of all the time I spend using pens and how much I appreciate a good pen, I realize it was money well spent. Finely made tools help make work a pleasure.

  For others: I wrote a check to the New York Public Library’s Library Cubs program. I was already donating my time and energy to helping form this group, which supports the children’s rooms in library branches. Time and energy helped the library; money was also useful.

  For happy memories: I bought those file boxes in April—an excellent modest splurge. Also, I’ve never forgotten an older friend’s observation: “One of my regrets about my children’s childhoods is that I didn’t have more professional photographs taken.” As luck would have it, I know a terrific photographer. I arranged to have pictures taken of our children, and I was thrilled with the results. These photographs were far better than any snapshot I could take, and I bought several for us and for the grandparents, too. Remembering happy times gives a big boost to happiness, and looking at photographs of happy times helps make those memories more vivid. The money I spent on the photographs will strengthen family bonds, enhance happy memories, and capture fleeting moments of childhood. That’s a pretty good return on the happiness investment.

  I pushed a friend to “Buy some happiness” when I stopped by her apartment to admire her new baby (in keeping with my June resolution to “Show up”).

  “One thing is really bothering me,” she said. “As a child, I was close to my grandparents, but my in-laws, who live nearby, aren’t very interested in the baby. They already have seven grandchildren. My mother would love to see the baby all the time, but she lives in Cleveland and only comes to New York once a year.”

  “Well,” I suggested, “at least until your son is in school, why don’t you go to Cleveland every few months?”

  She laughed. “That’s way too expensive.”

  “It’s a lot of money, but it’s important to you. Could you afford it?” I knew she could.

  “Well, yes, I guess,” she admitted, “but it would be such a hassle to fly with a baby.”

  “You could tell your mother you’ll buy her plane tickets if she’ll come to New York more often. Would she come?”

  “You know…I bet she would!” my friend said. This solution shows both the importance of thinking about how money can buy happiness and also the importance of my Eighth Commandment: “Identify the problem.” What was the problem? Finding a way for grandmother and grandson to spend time together.

  Money, spent wisely, can support happiness goals of strengthening relationships, promoting health, having fun, and all the rest. At the same time, the emotions generated by sheer buying, by acquisition, are also powerful. Happiness theory suggests that if I move to a new apartment or buy a new pair of boots, I’ll soon become accustomed to my new possession and be no happier than I was before. Nevertheless, many people make purchases for the fleeting jolt of happiness they get from the very act of gain.

  Now, you might say—that’s not true happiness; true happiness comes from doing good for others, being with friends and family, finding flow, meditating, and so on. But when I look around, I certainly see many people who look and act happy as they do their buying. The fact that the happiness boost that hits at the cash register isn’t particularly admirable doesn’t mean that it’s not real—or that it doesn’t shape people’s behavior. Research and everyday experience show that receiving an unexpected present or being surprised by a windfall gives people a real boost; in one study, in fact, when researchers wanted to induce a good mood in their subjects to study the effects, the way they accomplished this good mood was to arrange for those subjects to find coins in a telephone booth or to be given bags of chocolates. For some people, the rush of happiness that accompanies gain is so seductive that they spend more money than they can afford and are hit by remorse and anxiety once they get their bags home. The quick fix of happiness turns into a longer-lasting unhappiness.

  The happiness that people get from buying stuff isn’t attributable only to consumerist indulgence. Any kind of gain creates at least a momentary atmosphere of growth, and there are a lot of reasons why people love to make a purchase: to keep their home in good repair, attractive, and well stocked; to provide for loved ones or strangers; to master something new (such as the latest gadget); to possess an admired object; to teach their children; to live as their peers live; to live differently from their peers; to beautify themselves; to maintain a collection; to keep up with fashion; to defy fashion; to support a hobby or expertise; to benefit others; to justify the enjoyment of shopping as an activity; to offer and return hospitality; to gi
ve gifts and support; to win or maintain status; to establish dominance and control; to express personality; to celebrate; to maintain traditions; to break traditions; to make life more convenient, healthier, or safer; to make life more challenging, adventurous, or risky.

  I myself rarely feel cash register happiness. Quite the opposite. I’m usually hit by buyer’s remorse when I spend, a feeling that I call “shop shock.” Perhaps that’s why I really notice other people’s enthusiasm. Nevertheless, even for me, indulging in a modest splurge could bring a lot of happiness, if I made my purchases wisely.

  When I posted on my blog about my resolution to “Indulge in a modest splurge,” and people posted examples of their own modest splurges, I was struck by the extraordinary variety in people’s tastes.

  * * *

  For years I had cheap crappy cutlery in my kitchen. But last year I “spent out” on a few good knives. I paid $200 for three knives (a santoku, paring knife and a bread knife) and they were soooo worth the money and will last me forever.

  I hate to say it but I hired a personal organizer to deal with our basement. There was an ad on the bulletin board in the grocery store. My wife had been after me since we moved to deal with the junk down there, which was three years ago. I have never been so happy to write a check in my life. It wasn’t even that expensive especially because we ended up selling some stuff we had in storage in the basement.

  My Christmas present to myself this year was a few pillows:-). I knew I didn’t like mine, but the chain reaction of how they affect my comfort level-> hours and quality of sleep -> my mood the next day -> my productivity in work was pretty enlightening.

  I got a dog. Having a pet turned out to be more expensive than I expected (food, shots, paying a neighbor to take care of her when I travel, and so forth) but it has also been a lot more fun than I expected. I live by myself and having a dog has brought me a huge amount of happiness.