A wise expert once said, “Studies show . . .” That’s when my ears perked up. The expert continued. “Studies show that writing down your bad experiences can actually make you happy.”
Tell me more.
“Once in ink, these bad experiences can be analyzed. Then, drawing on your reservoir of optimism, you will naturally conclude that the bad experience wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought.”
Well . . . I say folderol and fiddle-de-dee to that!
About 20 years ago, I decided that Life was nothing but a big bully. I was out of work and repeatedly turned down for every job I applied for. I had one tactic at my disposal to turn my life around—feeling sorry for myself. Whiners like me have one big problem. The people we whine to usually side with that big bully called Life.
I was miserable, and all I wanted was to be happy . . . without changing any of my behavior. Reasonable, I thought. Years on that program got me nowhere. So, I begrudgingly adopted a new tactic. I started keeping a journal. But wait! There’s a twist. Instead of getting real with this journal, I filled it with beautiful lies. I wrote as if I had a very generous fairy god mother.
Here’s a sample entry. Keep in mind, I was still out of work with zero job prospects in sight:
Dear Journal, I can’t believe I got another job offer. This prospective employer wants to pay me more money than I currently make, but that means leaving a job I really love. I don’t really need the extra money, but the new job is just the sort of challenge that excites me. And I wasn’t even looking—this company came to me. I can’t believe how lucky I am!
So . . . day after day I wrote as if. I didn’t get a job after my first entry, or my second . . . or my sixteenth. But I did feel better after the first entry, and the second . . . and still better after the sixteenth. And feeling better gave me the strength to keep looking, until I did find a job that I was very happy with. And while I was in that job, at a much lower salary than I was accustomed to, I often ruminated that if nothing ever changed from that moment on, I could be happy. (That sentiment never crossed my mind in my previous higher-paying job—the job I thought wasn’t good enough. How’s that for a slap of irony!)
I kept up the journal for a long time, for no other reason than to feel that rush of happiness. All that I ever dreamed happened to me in the confines of that journal, and it was thrilling. And the feeling of happiness lasted the whole day.
If I were a wise expert, I would say, “Everything you need to know to live a happy life is in a Rogers and Hammerstein song.” During those difficult jobless days, I often played a song in my head from the musical Cinderella.
In my own little corner
In my own little chair
I can be whatever I want to be
I learned, for me, that a small corner in my mind was all the space I needed to be truly happy. And if I were a really, really, really wise expert, I’d be smart enough to visit that space more often.
In My Own Little Corner by songwriters Oscar Hammerstein II and Richard Rogers
Into the Comfort Zone 