Happiness

Over break, I started reading Gretchen Rubin's book, The Happiness Project. School started a couple of weeks ago, so book reading has ceased for now--except for the books I'm teaching, of course. My friend, Robin, sent me an interview Rubin did with Professor Sonja Lyubomirs on happiness, though, and that's made me want to get back to the book. Lyubomirs says in the interview that happiness is frequently fleeting because humans are so good at "hedonic adaptation." In other words, we get so used to some of the things that bring us pleasure and happiness that we simply adapt to them and stop feeling the pleasure they initially brought (and apparently this can happen as much with possessions as it does with things like lifestyle changes that bring initial happiness). So you buy that new car or you start dating that new guy, and at first, you're really happy...and then you adapt, and your happiness diminishes.

The trick, according to Lyubomirs is to find ways to slow hedonic adaptation down, and she suggests, "putting effort into appreciating the positive life change and/or introducing novelty, variety, and surprise into our daily lives." Novelty? Variety? Well, amen sister! Get onboard the New Thing Campaign. Now, I can't say that I ever heard the term hedonic adaptation before I read this interview, but I must have felt it in my life. I wonder now if it was the sense that new things made me happy but that the pleasure wore off over time that made me think that the perpetual, monthly pursuit of new things might be the antidote to my unhappiness. It has worked on some level, too. I am much happier now than I was before. The reasons for that are more complex than a few new adventures a month, of course, but I think change is the snowball that pushed downhill in the right conditions grows quickly.

In the interview, Rubin asks the good professor if there is anything in her life that has brought her happiness over time--anything she has not adapted to in her life. I just loved her answer: the view of the ocean from her house. She talks about how quickly we adapt to, say, a new chair or a new coat of paint on the walls, but that what we see out our window is in a perpetual state of change: leaves change color, the sun shines or doesn't shine, critters wander into view, flowers bloom and die. So many of us need a daily or weekly shot of nature to keep us running throughout the week, and while I know that the pursuit of nature is not all about novelty and warding off hedonic adaptation, I can see how some of it is. I think of the view of Lake Erie from the top of my sister's street, and how everyday, the lake is a different color. Interesting: just thinking that thought brought me a flash of happiness. Go ahead! Do something today to ward off hedonic adaptation in your life--even if it only involves enjoying a good view.

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Resolutions

I make resolutions every new year. Some of them are big, fundamental changes (I will be a more compassionate person this year...), and some them are lifestyle-lite resolutions (I'll drink more water). I've heard all of the cautionary tales about how making resolutions sets you up for feeling like a big fat failure, but I've never felt that way about them. I'm not saying that I've never failed at a resolution, mind you. I guess I just think that the idea of a fresh start and a new resolve is more powerful than the negative consequences of a failed resolution. Just try it again, for heaven's sake.

That's what I did in January 1986. After thirteen years of smoking, I resolved to quit on New Year's Day, and I did. But on the second and third, I was smoking again. It's true: I felt like a failure. But on January 4th, I kick-started my resolve and tried again. I made an appointment with a doctor, got a prescription for nicotine gum, and successfully quit smoking. I've taken on other big resolutions, like weight loss. Weight is my lifelong struggle, and I've lost and gained plenty of it. In 2001, I resolved to lose weight, and I did. Seventy pounds and many, many months later, I called that resolution a success, and then I started gaining. I've done that two or three times, but I keep trying.

One of my heretofore unmentioned new things in 2012 was to start working with a dietitian to see if that might help me lose weight and keep it off. When back problems led to an MRI and a diagnosis of severely degenerative discs with nerve entrapment, the doctor suggested a list of non-surgical treatments, weight loss among them. For the first time in my life, losing weight is about feeling physically better rather than looking physically better. We'll see if that makes a difference. I see the dietitian once a month and email her in between. She weighs me, we talk about what I'm eating and my exercise, she talks me down off the ledge after I eat too many Christmas treats, and she gives me goals each month. It has been painfully slow, mostly because my back problems have made exercise hard. I've lost fifteen pounds, though. Hope springs eternal.

This last New Years eve, I sat on the couch considering my resolutions. I came up with the usual suspects: keep losing weight, exercise more, gossip less. My favorite resolution is this one, though. Do NOT fall asleep on the couch in the evening. In 2012, I developed the bad habit of eating dinner, taking a walk, and then zonking out on the couch until bedtime. I'd toss and turn all night long then, and wake up exhausted. For the last four nights, I've refused to allow myself to do this, and it's like I've discovered this gigantic cache of time that I'd forgotten existed. I've used it to cook soup, organize trip photos, take down Christmas decorations, fix computer problems, read magazine articles, watch movies...and I'm only four days into the new year. I even think my sleep might be a bit better. This might be my best resolution yet.

Here's to the new year and to successful resolutions. I'm keenly aware of the potential for failure, but that won't stop me from trying.

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Sinfully Delicious

Wrath, sloth, greed, envy, gluttony, pride, and lust. This holiday season, I spent some time committing at least three of the seven deadly sins. Maybe more. Topping my naughty list were gluttony and sloth. Dear reader, are you also considering the cost of too many cookies and too little motion? Stop! I know what you're thinking. You're trying to convince yourself that thousands of hand to mouth repetitions constitute aerobic exercise. I've tried that well-worn rationalization myself, all the while my butt was broadening. I spent Christmas in Pennsylvania with my family, and that land of plenty was overflowing with cakes and cookies and candies. My sister always says, "Christmas: it's all about the snacks," and in my family, that's true. Go ahead! Pull up a chair at this table and see how long it takes your pants to split:













Now here's the real truth: I enjoyed every minute of my sinful Christmas, may God forgive me. I ate and drank and reclined in a recliner. I joke with the nieces and nephews that nothing makes me happier than a good gin and tonic and a toasty warm spot on a cold winter's day. I had both. Honestly, I had lots of both. Emotionally speaking, there's no place warmer than my sister's house on the holidays. Good thing, too: eat too many of those cookies, and you won't get your fat butt through the door.

So I said I committed three deadly sins, and it's true. I did. The last one was wrath triggered by a couple of middle aged bullies I know. There's a story there, and I could tell it, but as I write this, I'm sitting next to a warm New Year's Day fire, sipping coffee and thinking about the holidays, and that sin seems to be melting away. A little fireside absolution. In the new year, dear readers, I resolve to be a better person. In the absence of that kind of change, I resolve to try some of the other deadly sins, just to round out my experience and spice up my blog. Happy New Year!

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