What I Learned About Happiness from a Fleece Vest
I am a striver and an optimizer, and while this is a good thing (I waste little time getting things done), there’s a downside: I’m constantly in pursuit of the next thing to do or improve...
I tend to see everything as an opportunity for progress, from family vacations, where I keep a running list of what failed and ideas to try in the future; to trips to the grocery store, when I set a timer and race against the clock, intent on minimizing an activity I don’t enjoy. And even though I own at least five pairs, I’m always searching for the perfect black pants…
The starkest example of my urge to optimize was the day after I gave birth to my first child. Certain that I could do labor better the next time, I propped myself up in my hospital bed, grabbed my trusty BlackBerry, and typed a list of things to improve the experience: I would stay upright for longer, delay getting an epidural, eschew the pre-natal breathing classes, and book a private lactation consultant. Next time, I would excel at childbirth.
As soon as I achieve one thing, I want the next. Feeling never quite satisfied is my standard setting and something I’ve long wanted to change about myself. I know, I know, there I go, optimizing again.
Aware that my impulse is a feature of human nature, I kept hearing from self-help gurus that practicing gratitude was the antidote to this feeling of never-enough. I tried to follow Oprah’s instructions and write down five things I’m thankful for every day. I tried it in the morning. I tried it at night. I tried taking notes throughout the day. But the sense that I should be feeling grateful all the time made me grouchy. I did not feel happier, more thankful, or less inclined to want things I don’t have.
But this past weekend, I realized I’d been going about things all wrong…
I had wandered into my closet, looking for something warm and cozy to wear for the hours I planned to spend attacking my to-do list, when I spotted a fleece vest, neatly folded on a shelf, forgotten and ignored since last spring.
“A-ha!” I exclaimed, before sighing with pleasure as I felt its nubby contours. I zipped up the vest, smiled at my reflection in the mirror, walked out of the closet, and said, straight-faced, to Jim, “I think I’m in love with this fleece vest. I’m appreciating it so much.” He looked up from his laptop and gave me a bemused nod.
The next day, I was still consumed by it. I talked for 10 minutes to a friend about the wonders of the fleece vest. I haven’t heard from her since – it’s possible she’s questioning my sanity.
When I started writing this note, it was titled, “How Do I Love Thee, Fleece Vest?” as an homage to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and included a list of all the ways it made me feel comfortable and happy, e.g.: it’s soft, fuzzy, and warms my middle; it hides my tummy; it’s easy to wear under jackets because there are no bulky arms; it’s pleasantly stretchy; it has a slight turtleneck which keeps my long neck warm; and it has perfectly placed pockets!
I began to realize that my obsession with the vest wasn’t really about an item of clothing. Every time I talked about it, I felt another surge of happiness. It felt uncommonly good to appreciate something I have, without wanting another, slightly improved version: to love my fleece vest just the way it is – to feel satisfied.
Which brings me back to gratitude.
This feeling I’ve been chasing comes with heavy baggage. I can’t count the times I was told, as a child, that I should be happy with what I had, and consequently felt ashamed when I didn’t. As an adult, adding a daily gratitude practice to my routine has felt like something I should do. Feeling grateful became another chore; something expected of me. Worse, feeling grateful was something I was not achieving: no matter my striving, I was failing at thankfulness.
But satisfaction – or as I’ve rechristened it - the fleece vest feeling – feels peaceful and less attached to others’ expectations. Maybe because of that, it feels lighter and easier to access.
This week, as I’ve obsessed over my beloved fleece vest (and worn it every day), I’ve found myself looking around at the people, places, and things in my life with fresh eyes, while asking: “What else do I appreciate, exactly the way it is? Who do I love, exactly the way they are?”
It has brought me a quiet sense of joy to recognize how much there is to appreciate – and how satisfied I am – with so much of my life.
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