Day Two of my personal introspection retreat came at the end of a tough night. I had a very hard time falling asleep, and then I tossed and turned for what seemed like most of the night. Drifting in and out of consciousness, peppered with several bathroom stops, I struggled. Lying on the cusp between consciousness and sleep was a big rock I'd turned over during Day One: happiness. (For more on big rocks, see yesterday's post.)
In the stack of books on my nightstand for months (maybe years) has been Authentic Happiness by Martin E. P. Seligman, Ph.D. When I finished two others from the stack yesterday, Authentic Happiness awaited me. Instinctively, I knew that this was a big rock. I knew this, in part, because I'd read the book before. I also knew it because I've known I wasn't really happy for a long time.
For most of the last 35 years, I've thought I was a happy person, despite what the Universe threw on my path, and it has thrown a lot. But, somewhere along the way, something shifted in me. I couldn't say exactly when it happened or why, and while I've certainly had moments of pure bliss (mostly on the dance floor,) happiness has drifted further from my consciousness.
Not long before going to bed last night, I took a short assessment of my happiness at the start of the book. What I learned is not that I am unhappy much: I'm not. Perhaps more distressing to me is that I spend an overwhelming percentage of my time in "neutral"--not happy and not unhappy. The scripture about spewing lukewarm water out of our mouths came to my mind. Neutral? Is that the best I can do? Neutral is certainly the lukewarm water of happiness.
So I slept. More accurately, I tried to sleep. The thought of being neutral passed in and out of my consciousness. Unhappines is unpleasant enough to force action--to make me change something in my life. But neutral isn't uncomfortable enough to motivate movement. I just steep in it.
Well, mostly I steep in it. Over the last 12 to 18 months, I've been increasingly distressed with my work situation. I could say that has been about the people I work with, and to a significant extent that would be true. Yet, in my heart of hearts I have known there was more at work than unpleasant people who intentionally attempt to make my life miserable, which they do.
I've been bored. Is that neutral? I think so. I've had conversations with my boss and with her boss. I have so much more ability and experience. I could be making a much greater contribution. They've pretty much said, "Making a greater contribution not your job here. Do your job."
Last night as I started my reread of Authentic Happiness, I got it. Now, since I know I've read all or at least most of this book before, I must have known what Seligman describes as "the good life," but I certainly couldn't have told you yesterday morning what it was. He describes the good life as "using your signature strengths every day to produce authentic happiness and abundant gratification."
Signature strengths are those things we are good at that are "deeply characteristic of us," and mine are all the things that I am not using at work. My bosses have been kind in telling me what an excellent job I do, and I was recently recognized by a regional professional organization for one effort. But, being "excellent" at what I do is another signature strength: whatever I am given, I choose to do it well.
That a large percentage of my life in neutral is a function of not being able to utilize my signature strengths, or if I do, only for short periods and not as a part of a unified whole piece of work. It should not come as a surprise then that I've been job hunting pretty seriously almost since the earliest of my conversations about my work. Tomorrow I have a job interview. Understanding that using my signature strengths will make it much easier to decide whether this is a job I want.
There's another thing about being on neutral: it seems to have robbed me of my life force. Furthermore, it has robbed me of energy to even exercise my signature strengths when I am not at work. I come home exhausted and drop on the couch, mindlessly watching TV and often falling asleep. Writing is one of my signature strengths, and more often than not for most of a year, I've neglected writing for this blog. For years, I was called "Little Mary Sunshine" by friends and coworkers. Mary hasn't been seen for a long while either. Neutral has pervaded every corner of my life.
More important, though, is the truth that floated in during my first meditation this morning: "I choose." Each of my first two books included significant portions about being of choice, giving credence to the old saw that we write what we need to know. I've chosen to be in a job that doesn't allow me to use my signature strengths for over five years. My choice--a choice driven not by my passions or what will make me happy, but a choice driven by my financial planner. Really? I've let her decision position me for a neutral life.
But there is more to "I choose" than the place I hang my hat for 50-60 hours per week. If I am going to go there and give my life energy to my agency, then I need to choose to be happy about it. The choice about not writing has been mine; I have no one else to blame that on. Life is too short to be on neutral most of the time. It is time for me to own responsibility for my happiness.
I have no idea if I will be offered the job for which I will interview tomorrow, and I have no idea whether I will accept it, if I am. What I do know for certain is that wherever I am, whatever work I choose to do, I will choose to be happy.
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