I'm Sure I Don't Want to be Happy
This is not the first time I received a similar question to don't you want to be happy?
But this time the question was asked to me when I felt that happiness is such an important thing to have, and that I am not sure that I will ever feel it again. It has been a month since I broke up with my one-month girlfriend. I know it is such a short time - though I have had shorter ones - yet I can't get her out of my mind.
Nor do I want to.
So, within this month I almost never smiled. I either maintained a gloomy face or jumped straight to a forced laugh with nothing in between. I don't have the habit of looking myself into the mirror, thus although I felt like I didn't force my face to display anything, I'm sure my gloominess has been that obvious.
Now, I'm not sure why people around me like to ask me that question I mentioned earlier. I think of myself as someone who always shows up and performs rather well in situations I find myself in. Perhaps it's because of the well-known fact that I never had an ambition; perhaps it's because how little regard I spare for myself in any situation; perhaps it's because of the perceived inaction whenever people look at me; perhaps it's because of how little I know about taking care of myself. I can never be sure of the exact reason, because I never asked and it's their perspective anyway.
Yet this time the question posited strong enough dilemmas in me.
I'm completely heartbroken by the breakup, yet I accept that this is for the best - wish things were different; won't do anything about it - think about her every second; don't want to see her face - care and want to do something for her; don't want her anywhere near me - miss her voice; don't want any word coming from her.
And my biggest dilemma is that I know this chapter of my life has ended and nothing could be done about it, yet I know I want to keep carrying it with me. Not out of attachment, and I know this because I have been in a very similar situation - but out of something bigger, something that I feel I will discover by writing this.
And this brings me to topic at hand. I know well that carrying this baggage would make me gloomy, melancholic, and everything opposite of happy, and that it serves no purpose whatsoever, which makes the choice seemingly obvious.
At this stage I would like to clarify my situation more. I know it takes time to heal the matter of the heart, yet I have many ways at my disposal. Yet, notwithstanding the obvious choice, I am more certain this time than ever to be steadfast in choosing the opposite of being happy.
I have always felt an ick whenever people asked me such a question. Before this it felt to me that there are more important questions to ask, and to ask me such an insignificant question is like ridiculing the complexity of life. But this time, the question felt like an affront to something I hold so dear, which offended me so much that I began asking myself, why?
Without getting into how I found my answer (I might write about it in future), my reason to not want to be happy is because I have seen those who do, and I don't wish to be like them.
Aspiring to be happy - these are the people I would see going to the gym, taking up yoga, travelling around the world, creating remote circle of friends, networking with successful people, muttering affirmations, affirming positive words, peering at the tiny streaks of inspiring clouds, and many other actions. There is nothing wrong with these actions themselves, and I won't be presumptuous to suggest anyone against doing them. I have no problem with their motivation, one of which is to make themselves better. But I don't like what usually becomes of them after that.
They are fearful. And what's worse is that they don't admit it, insisting instead that it is the bravest way to live to the fullest.
It wasn't easy for me to look past the brave facade at first. How could I, with them telling me that with face flush with flowing blood after a good workout, and with hawk eyed gaze piercing my being signalling they know their goals in life?
But spending time with them just felt off.
Firstly, they are so uncomfortable with unhappiness as if allergic to it. I never cared putting on my best face unless in professional circumstances. And perhaps my gloomy face is a happy people's magnet, because they would come to me to make me happy, without my asking. I won't scoff at people coming to me with the intention of making things better for me. But what prevents me to appreciate that gesture more is how quickly they try to shift our conversations (if that is what they were) to 10 steps to happiness, without understanding my situation.
Mind, I don't demand to be understood, and that really is not important to me. But, if I have done my absolute best steer clear someone's way, and that for us to have a conversation, they have to put an effort into coming to me and ask me about how I am, I expect them to want to know, not to make my situation about affirming and projecting their believes.
I found that there is no way to have a deep and lengthy conversation with them when it comes to less-than-happy topics, because those will quickly become an itch they have to scratch by changing to topics to ways I can be happy. It's like they come to me, ask me about myself, and turn the conversation about themselves.
I don't want to be that.
Secondly, it's just bad having a conversation with them. More often than not, the conversations are way too shallow that I'm better off reading from the internet.
I've once had a conversation with someone who had just returned from an overseas travel. I asked him about the place and the only answer he could provide me is that the place was fun. Then he continued talking about his inner journey going on that travel. Although I care for him, in that moment I wasn't inquiring into that. I think I stated my question very clearly, that it concerns the place itself.
There was no mention about what is available there, the food, how people acted, culture, how they drive, interesting places, or history - which I tried to clarify in my follow up questions to no avail. I can't really blame him for not knowing the answers; maybe I should travel there myself if I want to find out.
However I just could not believe how shallow the conversation was right after an experience that is supposed to deepen one's perception of the world.
Same goes to other things: I've asked someone about gym. Instead of getting an answer of how a gym works, I received an endless lecture of how exercising benefits us and makes us achieve more in life. I've asked someone about camping. Instead of hearing about what's there and what can be done in a forest, I had to listen about how being close to nature regulates our emotion and makes us forget certain things in life.
Thirdly, being with them feels restless. And upon deeper reflection, I feel more like a pitstop whensoever we spent time together.
They want to be happy, they aspire to be happy. I don't know if they are happy, but I know they are going after something. And that's just the thing, they always want to go somewhere, but never arrived anywhere. There will always be a destination, and never a satisfaction. It spills over onto other parts of their life, even on the simplest drinking meetups.
With these people, I never once felt that a hangout has been well earned. The hangouts always felt like a temporary pause used to psyche ourselves up and to sharpen our focus for the next pursuit. If anyone asked me 20 years ago if I would ever need to dream for a proper hangout, I would think they are out of their mind, because that was available at all times.
But now, not only do I have to dream about it, I also have to really find out what a proper hangout means. And my simple answer is: a hangout that looks into the past. It's about sharing stories of what we have done, sharing opinions on whether what we did was good or not, and more importantly making absurd all of those things together as a form of catharsis. Then I would know if that was a good hangout or otherwise by how light we both feel thereafter. No planning, no wishing, and no burden. That ought to be reserved for a serious meeting.
And there we have it. I don't want to be happy. I don't mind experiencing happiness, which comes and goes in our daily life, but I want to treat it exactly that way - as something that happens, just like how rain happens to me without my having to do positive affirmations daily.
I don't mind experiencing happiness from a sudden good news, but I don't want to have being happy as a measuring stick of my life, where if I don't feel like I'm happy, I'd consider it as a failure on my part.
I don't mind experiencing happiness from a good luck, but I don't want to live in a constant fear of having 'negative vibe' around me that I have to go and fix it, even though when someone around me is feeling genuinely down. It happens in life. And life is not just happy; life is everything combined. I want to be comfortable in every part of it.
I repeat, I'm sure I don't want to be happy.
But I think it's good that I was asked that question. I never thought about what I really want in life. I've long been certain happiness is not it. But by really thinking about the reason why, I found something else that is worth my pursuit.
I realised, through this experience and some of my older readings, that the pursuit of happiness always revolves around the self. It makes us so focused on ourselves which results in giving less and less regard to things outside ourselves. It makes our interaction with the world outside ourselves very selfish, insofar as everything we do in interaction to other things only concern how that can improve ourselves.
That, I think, will make my life less rich. It will make me think that all else in this world is but an extension of myself, and not something other than me in their own right. It will make me wonder less and be fascinated less.
Earlier I opened this essay with an unnecessary lengthy story about my failed love. What does it have to do with the title?
I'm not happy with the breakup. I know that I will be unhappy for a long time because of this. I know that this is a grief that serves no function. I know that it is also in my power to find a solution or way out of this.
But I don't want to. I would rather choose grief than happiness now.
Because keeping her in my heart has its own meaning, of that I love her and that she is not replaceable by anything in this world because at last, I have known love that does not look at the value of someone. I am also choosing to act as the role I had chosen to assume - a person that loves her, because I find dignity in caring for her from afar and staying loyal to her.
This sense of duty, how insensible it seems to the eyes of others, has so much meaning to me that I wouldn't trade it for even a sliver of happiness.