I skipped writing last night because I was tired and really couldn’t land on a good topic. I tried to push myself to just write something, anything, and I did. And man, it really sucked. So I deleted it. I wrote another paragraph and that was even worse. Delete. I even tried writing a sappy poem. Um, yeahhhhh. Delete. And the whole time I was struggling with it, one of the #nerdlution mantras was ringing in my head, “If it makes you happy…” I was not happy. Forcing myself to write crappy stuff was making me the opposite of happy. So I quit. And I was mostly okay with it.
Here I am tonight. Back from a work trip, tired, don’t want to write. But in my head I’m thinking: Skipping one day is one thing, but skipping two? That’s some else entirely. And then I asked myself: Is there anything I do every day that makes me happy? I couldn’t think of anything. Of course my mind instantly went to things like eating, exercising, writing, etc. and most of those things I don’t even do every day, and most of them don’t make me happy every time I do them. I do them because they’re required or I have a goal I’m trying to reach—which will presumably make me happy—and that’s the way to achieve the goal. Sure, sometimes I enjoy those things, but there are plenty of things I just do because it’s good for me.
Question: If I typically feel happier because or after I do something that I’m not particularly happy doing, does that count as doing something that makes me happy?
To be fair, one thing I do every day is admire my kids, sometimes just for a little bit, and that makes me happy. This does not satisfy all my needs and wants, though. It’s good, but it’s not enough. Man cannot live on the joy of children alone. So here I am. Doing something because I committed to it, and I feel better after doing it, but when I started writing, I would have been happier sleeping.