I woke up the first morning, deep in thought about Pollyanna Week, and by 7:00 A.M., I’d already broken it. Practically the first thing I said to Jamie was to chide him: “You never answer my e-mails, and you didn’t answer my e-mail yesterday, so I couldn’t get any of those scheduling issues settled. Do we need a babysitter for Thursday night or not?”
The next day, I did the same thing. We were all sitting around before school when Eleanor started pointing to her mouth, in what we thought was a cute way, until she started making gagging noises.
“Quick, get a towel, she’s going to throw up!” I yelled.
Eliza darted into the kitchen, but she still hadn’t emerged when Eleanor began heaving half-digested milk all over herself, me, and the furniture.
“Jamie, go get a towel!” He’d been sitting, mesmerized by the sight. By the time they both rushed back from the kitchen with dish towels, Eleanor had finished throwing up, and she and I were wallowing in a big, yucky mess.
“Folks, that was not the fastest action we could’ve had,” I scolded. “We could’ve saved a lot of trouble if you’d been faster with those towels.” Why did I throw out a negative comment? It added to the general loss of morale without making any useful point.
One lesson that Pollyanna Week taught me was that I could usually make my point, even if it was critical, in a positive way. For example, I broke Pollyanna Week during a game of “Finders, Keepers” with Eliza. The point of Finders, Keepers is to accumulate the most tiles.
“Can I trade my baseball cap tile for your butterfly tile?” Eliza asked after one round.
“Okay.”
We played another round.
“Can I trade my globe for your flower?”
“Okay.”
We played another round.
“Can I trade my football for your ice cream sundae?”
I’d been getting increasingly annoyed. “Eliza, it’s tiresome when you keep trading tiles,” I told her. “Just keep what you get, and you can trade them at the end. ‘You get what you get, and you don’t get upset.’”
“All right,” she said cheerfully.
Only later did I realize that I could have phrased my request without criticism: “The game is more fun when we keep it moving fast. Can we trade at the end?”
That night I did a better job, largely because I was so tired that I went to bed at nine. Being asleep is a great way to avoid being critical. But when I said to Jamie, “I’m so exhausted that I’m going to bed now,” was that a complaint or a statement of fact? It counted as a complaint. I should’ve found a positive way to phrase it: “Going to bed sounds so great to me that I think I’m going to turn out the light early.”
One big challenge of Pollyanna Week was remembering to keep my goal uppermost in my mind. During the activities of the day, I forgot my resolution. So, borrowing from some of the mindfulness strategies I had tried in October, on the third morning, I started wearing a wide orange bracelet for the rest of Pollyanna Week, as a constant reminder of my goal to make only positive comments. The bracelet worked fairly well—except that once I caught myself complaining to a friend that the bracelet was too heavy and clunky! So much for reminding me to make only positive comments. But I did have moments of triumph. I didn’t complain about our loss of Internet ser vice. I didn’t grouse when Jamie baked three rich desserts in three nights. When Eliza accidentally ran Eleanor’s stroller into the kitchen wall, where it made a dark mark, I let it go without making a fuss. And when Eleanor grabbed my lipstick off the counter, then dropped it into the toilet, I said, “Well, it was an accident.”
During Pollyanna Week, I never did manage to go an entire day without a negative comment, but I nevertheless declared it a successful exercise. Though 100 percent compliance was an impossible ambition, making the effort jolted me into an awareness of my usual attitude. The effect of Pollyanna Week lingered long after the week was up.
FIND AN AREA OF REFUGE.
One fact of human nature is that people have a “negativity bias”: we react to the bad more strongly and persistently than to the comparable good. As I’d learned in February, within a marriage, it takes at least five good acts to repair the damage of one critical or destructive act. With money, the pain of losing a certain sum is greater than the pleasure of gaining that sum. Hitting the best-seller list with Forty Ways to Look at Winston Churchill thrilled me less than a bad review upset me.
One consequence of the negativity bias is that when people’s minds are unoccupied, they tend to drift to anxious or angry thoughts. And rumination—dwelling on slights, unpleasant encounters, and sad events—leads to bad feelings. In fact, one reason that women are more susceptible to depression than men may be their greater tendency to ruminate; men are more likely to distract themselves with an activity. Studies show that distraction is a powerful mood-altering device, and contrary to what a lot of people believe, persistently focusing on a bad mood aggravates rather than palliates it.
I’d often noticed my own tendency to brood, and to counter this effect, I invented the idea of the “area of refuge.” Once when I was back visiting my former law school, I noticed a sign by an elevator that declared that area an “area of refuge.” I guess it’s where a person in a wheelchair or with some other difficulty should go in case of fire. The phrase stuck in my mind, and I decided that if I found myself dwelling on bad feelings, I’d seek a mental “area of refuge.”
As an area of refuge, I often think about Churchill’s speeches—in particular, his eulogy for Neville Chamberlain. Or I think about some of the funny things Jamie has done. Years ago, when we were first married, Jamie came into our bedroom in his boxers and announced, “I am LORD of the DANCE!” and hopped around with his arms straight at his sides. I still laugh every time I think about it. A friend told me that she thinks about her children. Another friend—not a writer—makes up short stories in her head. When Arthur Llewelyn Davies, the father of the boys who inspired Peter Pan, was recovering from an operation that removed his cheekbone and part of the roof of his mouth, he wrote a note to J. M. Barrie:
Among the things I think about
Michael going to school
Porthgwarra and S’s blue dress
Burpham garden
Kirkby view across valley…
Jack bathing
Peter answering chaff
Nicholas in the garden
George always
These phrases mean nothing to an outsider, but for him, they were areas of refuge.
By the end of November, I’d realized that one of the most important lessons of the happiness project is that if I keep my resolutions and do the things that make me happier, I end up feeling happier and acting more virtuously. Do good, feel good; feel good, do good.
Over the course of the month, I noticed that a frequent subject of my negative comments was Eliza’s hair. Jamie and I thought it looked cutest when it hung right above her shoulders, but she begged us to grow it long. “You can grow it long only if you promise to keep it brushed nicely and out of your face,” I threatened, repeating the words that untold millions of parents have uttered, to no avail. She promised, but of course, her hair constantly hung in her face.
“Eliza, brush your hair, it’s all messy.”
“Eliza, you’ve got the dreaded middle part, part your hair on the side.”
“Eliza, get a ponytail holder or a barrette, you need to pull your hair back.”
“Eliza, you can’t possibly tell me you’ve already brushed your hair.”
This criticism was no fun for her and no fun for me. I wanted to change this pattern. So the next time I wanted to fret about her hair, I said, “Bring me a brush,” and I started to brush her hair—not fast and rough, as I sometimes did when I was impatient in the morning, but gently. “I love seeing your hair smooth and shiny,” I said. “Your hair looks beautiful.”
Eliza looked a little surprised.
The next time I tried the same thing. “Let me brush your ha
ir,” I told her. “I love brushing your hair.”
She didn’t get any better about keeping her hair tidy, but it didn’t bother me as much.
12
DECEMBER
Boot Camp Perfect
HAPPINESS
Boot Camp Perfect
For eleven months, I’d been piling on the resolutions, and for this last month of December, I wanted to try Boot Camp Perfect. I would follow all of my resolutions, all the time. I would aim to see nothing but gold stars glittering on my Resolutions Chart. This goal of perfection was daunting, because following my resolutions took a huge amount of mental discipline and self-control—not to mention, it took a lot of time.
So, for the month, I tidied, I cleared, I organized, I turned off the light. I sang in the morning, I laughed out loud, I acknowledged people’s feelings, I left things unsaid. I blogged, I asked for help, I pushed myself, I showed up, I went off the path. I wrote in my one-sentence journal. I met with my writers’ strategy group and my children’s literature reading group. I listened to my hypnosis tape. I didn’t eat any fake food. I bought needful things.
Of course, I also failed to do these things. As hard as I tried during Boot Camp Perfect, I still didn’t manage to keep all my resolutions. Resolutions! After all these months, I was still astonished at how effectively they worked to make me happy, whenever I did faithfully keep them. I thought often of the 1764 journal entry of Samuel Johnson, who, as an inveterate resolution maker and resolution breaker, is one of the patron saints of the process:
I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short. O GOD, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolutions.
Did I have even one single perfect day during December? Nope. But I kept trying. One helpful consequence of my happiness project was that even when I had a bad day, it was a good bad day. If I was feeling blue, I’d run through my mood-boosting strategies: go to the gym, get some work done, keep myself from getting too hungry, cross a nagging task off my to-do list, connect with other people, spend some time having fun with my family. Sometimes nothing really worked, but the nice thing about trying to ameliorate a bad mood by taking those kinds of constructive steps was that even when a day was bad, it had bright spots, and I could look back on a good bad day with satisfaction.
One development had given me a huge shot of encouragement: after I’d posted an offer to send people my Resolutions Chart in case they wanted to see a model as they formulated their own resolutions, I’d started to get e-mails from people describing their happiness projects. Several people had even started their own blogs to track them. I was gratified to think that I’d convinced some readers to try the method and resolutions that had worked for me.
* * *
Thank you very much for sharing your Resolutions Chart. My husband and I are going to create a month of resolutions. I think the exercise will be both fun and a good bonding experience for us after an emotionally rocky few months. We haven’t sat down to do it yet (which is yet another symptom of how work keeps us from spending quality time together), just talked about doing it soon, but I’ve been thinking about simple resolutions—like Date night, Express physical affection, Do something new together, Listen to her/him, Play hookie from work for an afternoon, Go for a drive (we always talk better stuck in a car together). We just realized there are a lot of things we take for granted, having been together for so long, and there are so many little things that we’re realizing we have neglected over time that would probably make us happier if we paid attention to them now.
[The introduction to a blog:] I have been inspired recently by The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. I love her idea of studying what makes us happy and then trying to apply it to our own lives. Everyone’s happiness project would be unique, but I am sure would have many things in common. She has challenged others to have their own “happiness project” and I am taking her up on this challenge!
I have enlisted a friend to do this with me—I’ll call her Jen. And I am trying to see if my husband will join in as well. We will track our journeys together.
Part of my interest in the Happiness Project is learning how some of the principles of happiness might also be applied to children. I will be exploring this as well.
And most important, I know that one of the things that makes me the happiest is to share what I learn with others. So, it will all be posted here. It should be fun!
In the vein of being mindful and showing gratitude to those you appreciate, I’ve been meaning to share with you the positive effect your blog has had on my life for a while now. You posted a few things on resolutions that inspired me to come up with my own. Knowing that I needed to be specific about things that could be accomplished and that being more social would lead to additional happiness, I wrote out the following three general goals against which I could judge success at the end:
Take a Class
Volunteer
Join a Group
I promptly signed up for two courses to continue learning for my own edification. I also volunteered with the Boy Scout troop that I had been affiliated with while I was in my teens. These two resolutions took up much of my free time for the first half of the year. Recently, I began working toward the third goal and joined a rowing club.
I can tell you, without a doubt, that these three resolutions have led to all of my best experiences this year. I met some important friends in my economics class, have learned how to motivate and lead through my experiences with the Boy Scouts, and am just starting to expand my social circle by joining the rowing club (while getting more exercise). Honestly, when people ask me what I’m “up to,” I tell them about the things I’m doing because of those resolutions and really sound interesting. More importantly, I’m feeling fulfilled and definitely happier.
I’m now taking a third course and considering joining a wine club. I also walk five times a week, and keep myself motivated to maintain the habit using many of the suggestions you’ve shared (the one that sticks with me the most is the one from your dad about just having to put the shoes on and get to the mailbox).
I’ve learned so much through your research and experience and just want you to know that your work is worth the effort. The impact on my life has been immediate, and I’m certain it will last for many years, if not the rest of my life. Sometimes, people say that if the things they do can influence one person, then it was all worth it. Well, you have!
When I found your blog, a light came on and I thought that the members of our group would love this project as we are all indeed searching for happiness. I was right! When I introduced the idea everyone is so excited to begin. We will meet next Monday and share some of our Commandments and I will then introduce your Resolutions Charts. As you say in your blog, each project will look different, according to the person, but as I continue to read your blog, it has become clear to me that in the end we are all looking for basically the same thing…Happiness!
To make your own happiness, to write your own Commandments and check yourself with your own resolutions is simply GENIUS! My group struggles with this search but never had the thought of going and taking happiness for ourselves, we simply try to live better and hope that it comes.
Time will tell but certainly the group is very excited about the prospect and their “homework” which was to begin their own Commandments.
Last week-end my daughter and a friend met me at my mom’s house. My daughter is 28 and my mom is 86—I’m somewhere in the middle. My daughter and her friend started talking about the happiness project and some of the precepts they had learned there. My daughter’s friend mentioned the idea of really enjoying what you have—such as using the good dishes, not saving the dress for a day that may never come, etc. My mom, who is a VERY frugal woman, began to talk about some demitasse cups that had been passed on to her
and how they were boxed up in the closet because she didn’t have a display case. I suggested we go to the furniture store and find one she could use, and surprisingly she agreed. We looked at two stores and left with good information about a curio cabinet. On the way out of the second store, Mom noticed a chair that looked very comfortable, and had a heating and vibrating feature that felt good. I ended up paying for half of the chair for her Christmas present and we later ordered the curio as well.
We all know that happiness is not in things. However, at age 86 I was so glad that my mom could have a couple of things that she will really enjoy. Her chair was delivered and she reports that she may never sit anywhere else. When the curio cabinet is delivered we will have a great time putting together the display of her family heirlooms. Thanks for the inspiration!
* * *
It made me very happy to think that my blog had helped contribute to the happiness of people I’d never even met. Of course, that was the purpose of the blog—but I was thrilled to discover that it was actually working.
“Your year is almost up,” friends kept saying to me. “So, are you happier?”
“Absolutely!” I answered.
“But how do you really know?” one scientist friend asked. “Did you do any kind of systematic measurement over the course of the year?”
The Happiness Project Page 29
