I know everything there is to know about happiness because I’m more depressed than a freshly stomped Goomba. (I'm not clinically depressed. This is the internet. Embellishment is essential.)
One of the many reasons I'm non-clinically-vanquished-Goomba-depressed is laughable. It makes too much sense. Here it goes:
I don't do things I say I'm gonna do, and I do things I say I'm gonna not do.
Both halves of the previous sentences say the same thing. I'm trying to confuse you on purpose. Keeping you on your toes. Or your hooves. The hoofed can't escape my cognitive clutches. Let your hoofed friends know I'm coming for them.
“I'm going to start stretching my hamstrings daily!”
One day later, I don't stretch my hamstrings.
“I'm going to stop eating food when I feel full, as opposed to when I get nauseous!”
One day later, I have meat sweats so hard I wake up in the middle of the night to ring out the clothes I'm wearing.
Doing things you say you aren't gonna do (and not doing things you say you're gonna do) is dangerous.
On your first day at school, you make a friend. His name is Hoofman23. Hoofman23 explodes in the kiln overnight. That's what happens when you try to make friends.
You go to school the next day and become friends with a real actual human named Hoofman24. What are the odds? I don't know. You tell me. You're the one with hooves.
Hoofman24 says, “I'm coming over to your house tonight. I'll bring my Playstation and some Patron. We'll have tons of fun. I'll be there at seven o'clock.”
Hoofman24 never shows.
You go into school the next day, Hoofman24 says, “Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday. I'll come over tonight at seven o'clock. I promise.”
Hoofman24 never shows.
This charade repeats daily for an entire month. Hoofman24 tells you he's gonna come over, but he never does. What happens? You brand Hoofman24 a liar. You stop trusting him. You don't believe him. You know he makes empty promises. When Hoofman24 says he's gonna do something, you know he's probably not gonna do it.
This is exactly what happens when you do things you say you aren't gonna do (and don't do things you say you're gonna do).
How many times have you made a promise to yourself that you didn't keep? My guess: many times.
- I'm going to start doing push-ups daily!
- I'm going to stop getting blackout drunk!
- I'm going to stop eating peanut butter by the trough!
You can make up whatever excuse as to why you didn't end up doing the thing you said you were gonna do. Might help your ego at the moment, but the hurt runs much deeper in the long run.
Eventually, you become Hoofman24. You say you're gonna do something. Your non-conscious brain says, “Nahhh. Nope. You aren't.” You become a joke to yourself, whether you (consciously) realize it or not. (You don't.)
To make matters worse, your brain likes to confirm what it already believes. If you actually went out and did the thing you said you were gonna do, you'd be filled with cognitive dissonance. Your brain doesn't like cognitive dissonance.
When your non-conscious brain brands you as the type of person that doesn't keep promises, it's much tougher to do the things you say you're gonna do.
If you're always doing things you don't wanna do and never doing things you wanna do, you aren't gonna be very happy.
The key to happiness (or happierness) is simple: Keep the promises you make to yourself. Do the things you say you're gonna do. Don't say you're gonna do things you have no intention of doing.
To which you're surely wondering: How do you keep your promises if your non-conscious brain has already branded you a Hoofman24? How do you stop the downward spiral?
There's a reason I'm writing this (and thinking about which beer I'm gonna drink next). If I knew how to stop the spiral, I'd be colonizing Mars.
If I was forced to squeeze the peanut gallery of my brain for useful advice, here's what I'd say: Don't promise yourself the world. Make small promises, at first. Promises that are comically easy to keep. Do one push-up every day. And then actually keep them. And be ecstatic when you keep them. Pat yourself on your back. Get your hooves spit-shined.
Laughably small promises won't make dents; doing one push-up daily won't make you jacked. But doing one push-up every day might help you become the type of person who does what he says he's gonna do.
What's more important?
May the Gains be with you,
Ant