After writing in my last post about the positive shift in attitude I feel when I use the word I “get” to versus I “have” to, I began to think about another word change.  I notice I also experience the same tightness in my body that happens when I say “have” whenever I use the word “should.”  I also realize how often I say it! So this week, as a follow up, I’ll spend some words on this word.

Most of us have heard the phrase “You’re shoulding all over yourself.”  We recognize that when we use the word should it invokes a little burst of guilt.  Hence the tightness. So I started reframing that each time I use the word ‘should” I’m actually identifying an ambivalence.  I want to have cake and ice cream for dinner, but I also know its healthier to eat the chicken. Should alerts us that we want something else rather than what we feel is the “right” thing to do.  I should do the dishes, but I want to watch This Is Us.  I should call the insurance guy, but I don’t want to talk to him.  

Obviously, it’s not a good idea to do whatever we want.  Shoulds impose reason and reflect important internalized messages of past learning that are necessary.  But should has a childlike quality; like when I was a little girl and for my own well being had to do what my parents and teachers wanted.  Should makes me feel young and beholden to some authority and therefore makes me feel that my desires are in some way bad. Inevitably, it makes me a bit rebellious.  Ironically then, the more I feel like I should do something, the less likely I am to do it. And then the more I put it off, the more resentful I am about it.

So the antidote?  I have been playing around with replacing I “should” with I “ choose.”  It helps me own whatever I should do as a choice that I, as my adult self, am making, rather than being guilted to please someone else.  Whenever I hear a should, I’m trying to think it of it as information about my own ambivalence. It helps me explore the basis for the should as well.  Sometimes shoulds are based on things that are good for me, and sometimes not. Often, my shoulds come from my desire to please other people. I should volunteer for the fundraiser, I should apologize, or I should say yes to something.  I do it because I want approval rather then really what’s true for me.  

Again, being an adult often requires doing things we don’t want to do.  But it also allows us to go off the rails once in a while because we’ve achieved the maturity to get back on track.  It’s ultimately all about weighing pros and cons and making a choice, then taking responsibility for the choice. Saying I choose rather than I should affirms my behavior as a decision rather than an imposed activity.  I’m also finding that when I say I “should” do something, it leaves it in the future. When I change it to I choose to do it, it brings it into the now. It also helps me prioritize. Rather than having a list of shoulds building up, I can evaluate what’s most important to me at any given time.  Yes, I should be cleaning the house, but right now, writing my blog is more important to me. Or, yes, having the cake and ice cream for dinner would be fun, but keeping my sugar in balance is more important to me. And sometimes, in switching from I “should” to I “choose,” we actually give ourselves permission to compromise.  

So here’s my choice:  After I write this I’ll call the insurance guy, have a piece of the leftover chicken for dinner, do the dishes, and relax with the slice of cake while I watch my recorded episode of This Is Us.  Hmmmm what do you know.  Being an adult isn’t all that bad!

I recently heard a little technique that has had a relatively powerful effect on my attitude and mood at times when I’ve needed it.  It came from a woman in one of the groups I am fortunate to facilitate. (If there’s an original author who should get credit, I apologize, I did my best to find you via Google). This tool is quick, involves just one word, but takes me from a feeling of obligation and low enthusiasm to a feeling of gratitude and enthusiasm.  The word is “get” and replaces the word “have” in this simple sentence: “I get to” versus “I have to”. (Hand to head in explosion gesture!)

Here’s the magic:  I am driving home from work pretty tired.  I suddenly realize that I never made it to the grocery store over the weekend and have very little with which to make dinner. Worse yet, we’re out of coffee for the morning.  I feel a heaviness in my already worn out body as I tell myself, “You have to go to the grocery store.” I imagine the busy parking lot, the annoyance at how long it takes to think about and find what I need, the long line at check out and feel a sense of dread.  I picture this exhausting scenario versus just going straight home to take off my heels and lounge on the couch. I feel annoyed and obligated, burdened and resentful.

Then I wave the wand by substituting the word “get” for “have” and say out loud, “You GET to go the grocery store.”  I know it sounds so hokey, but it suddenly shifts my energy. I’m suddenly thinking about all the fresh produce I am so lucky to have available here in Sonoma County.  I think of all the work that has gone into the production of the food and other items I will consume. I begin to think more creatively about what I might make for dinner and don’t take for granted that I can just walk in and purchase what I need to satisfy my hunger. I am now in a frame of mind of appreciation and bounty, gratitude and openness.

It doesn’t work every time to that degree, but each time I’ve tried it (I experimented with it for a month before feeling good about writing about it), I always find something good about what I “have” to do that makes me feel more open.  With a change in that one little word I move from an attitude of victimhood to a feeling of privilege; from looking at what is negative about what I’m about to do to looking at what is positive. I see each activity in my life for the choice it really is rather than the obligation.  

As someone who enjoys both reading and writing, I am a lover of words. I often reflect on the choice of language and what it means in my writing and in my work with people as a facilitator of self expression and communication.  But every once in a while an example of the power of vocabulary comes along and rocks my world (yes, I know, I am old.) It’s the closest thing to magic or miracle I know. So please, give it a try and see what it does for you.  I promise, there’s no danger, no side effects, and it doesn’t cost you a penny. And since it’s all in your mind, you never have to worry about leaving your wand or magic hat at home!

I just returned from moving my younger daughter across the country for her first year of college (insert bittersweet tears here). The school had a gathering for us new parents with several of the big wig Deans giving us a pep talk, of sorts, that all of our many dollars were being well invested (insert anxious tears here).  The President of the College, Philip J. Hanlon, however, had a bit of good advice for us that I appreciated most of all. It made a lot of sense to me and for anyone making a big change.

“Your son or daughter will probably be calling you at some point to say they don’t fit in,” he warned us.  It may be after their first exam when they get a lower grade than they are used to, when they get a paper back with more red ink then they have seen in all of high school or when they look around and feel everyone else looks fine and they feel so very different.  Just remind them at those moments that they did not come here to fit in, he encouraged us. They chose their school to be challenged and to expand their skills and experiences. They will need to work hard and to ask for help. They will need to tolerate being uncomfortable and feeling inadequate.  They will need to give it time and to trust the process (my words). With all of that, eventually, they will grow and change to a new identity that fits in with their new surroundings.

As a constant student of change, I loved being reminded of these words to say to my daughter or to anyone going through a change.  And to remind myself when I’m trying something new and feel I don’t fit in. When it is a change you choose to make it is no doubt easier.  You have a vision and a goal to motivate your change. You feel your expansion to fit a new identity is in an “upward” direction. But sometimes the change we must adapt to is not wanted and not asked for.  No one wants to take on the identity of a widow, an ill patient, or being unemployed. But these indeed are new identities that require us to build new skills and tolerate anxiety and insecurity. Although we didn’t sign up for it we still inevitably must learn through periods of loneliness and self doubt how to manage and where we need to alter ourselves.  The same holds true as well for the process of change whether it is chosen or not – that it takes time, hard work, and it is best to ask for help.  

I clearly remember feeling in my first year of college, my first year of graduate school, seeing my first clients (sorry, I did my best), my first year of marriage, and my first year of motherhood (sorry, I did my best), that I did not fit in.  Same was true in my first year of caretaking my mother, looking for a job after being laid off, and being an adult orphan. Whenever we go through a change, we ourselves need to change. Our identities, capacities, opinions, and perspectives inevitably do change along with us.  By definition and by necessity, we are not the same. We no longer fit in to who we were, but expand out to become who we are now.

My younger daughter invited me to attend a talk given by the distinguished astronaut Sunita Williams.  What an impressive person! Having graduated from the Naval Academy, she learned to fly helicopters and did so in several tours of duty, then she became a test pilot, and eventually was chosen to become an astronaut.  After piloting the space shuttle, she moved on to become the Commander during her six months of time on the International Space Station. My daughter, being the curious and persistent young woman she is, waited and waited in line to greet Commander Williams.  The advice she gave my daughter, as a young woman interested in a male dominated field of science, was well worth the price of admission and I think a gift to share with others.

“Confidence comes from competence” was her message.  In other words, learn, train and practice practice practice.  In order to be taken seriously she had to be good at what she did.  Out in space, no one cared about her gender as long as she could keep them alive in a crisis. She had to keep practicing and improving her skills in order to be as best prepared for whatever might happen that she could not ever anticipate.  At the same time, she had to have the humility to accurately evaluate herself and take feedback. She shared about the importance of a leader knowing how and when to be a follower as a critical skill for success. As a leader, she had to have confidence enough to give way to other’s opinions without being threatened.   

Confidence without competence is entitlement  In a Harvard Business Review article by Thomas Chamarro-Premuzic, titled “Why Do So Many Incompetent Men Become Leaders,” he addresses this problem.  He posits that we often fail to distinguish between confidence and competence and concludes that this bias toward confidence “too often results in the selection of arrogant and self-centered leaders.”  These very traits (overvaluing yourself) are actually inversely related to leadership ability. He further writes: “The paradoxical implication is that the same psychological characteristics that enable male managers to rise to the  top of the corporate ladder also leads to their downfall.” Being a good self promoter is not just different from, but in direct contrast to what it takes to actually be a good leader.

We may not aspire to be a space walker or a Fortune 500 business leader, but we each have goals of things we’re learning to do that are really difficult.  We feel awkward and insincere when we first do them. But with practice, if we keep learning and practicing, the confidence does come. The more we try, the better we will  get, the more confident we will be. If we wait to have confidence, we’ll never have the chance to get the competence! And as Sunita Williams suggests, true confidence, the kind that allows for humility and team work, comes when we continue to put ourselves to the test over and over again.  The deeper we build our foundation of competence, the more stability there will be for our confidence!

Like many people, I find it hard to listen to the actionless debate that takes place after every mass shooting.  But as the nation continues to move on from one of the most violent weekends in history, I am particularly disturbed by what I hear being said and the simplistic and inaccurate conclusions being used as a smokescreen to cover over the need for gun control.  For me, as a psychologist, I see the studies and the conclusions drawn on the causes of violence. As a daughter, I know the impact of gun violence all too personally.   

My father owned a transmission shop in Jersey City, NJ.  One night while he was closing up, a man walked in with a sawed off shotgun.  He demanded that my father give him the money from the cash register, which of course my father did.  Then he wanted his wallet. As my father reached in his pocket to retrieve it, the man held the gun to my father’s face.  As he pressed the trigger, my father pushed the gun down and it shot hundreds of pellets into his abdominal area. The man ran off,  leaving my father to die. I still cannot believe the courage my father had, holding his wounds to reduce the bleeding and reaching for the phone to call 911.  He tells the story of talking to himself out loud, for fear if he let himself drift off, he would never wake up. We were lucky, they told us in the hospital, that he was taken to Jersey City Medical Center, as the doctors there train for the military because there are so many gunshot victims.  By skill of a surgeon placing mesh where his own flesh should be and from my father’s dogged determination during months of recuperation in the hospital, my father survived. He lost his business because of the tragedy, but he kept his life. And for the rest of his days as a constant reminder, my father had to carry an x-ray to show in airports, as so many pellets remained in his body that it set off the screening machines.

When the shooting took place I was in my second year of graduate school.  At the time I was overcome by the relief that my father was still alive. But I also felt such relief that we didn’t live in Jersey City.  My father could come home and we could live far enough away from Jersey City that I did not feel the threat of gun violence so common that military doctors would train in my local hospital.  I, like so many people had the privilege to live in a safe suburban neighborhood,. I could move on with my life, not feeling that guns or gun violence was an issue that related to me.

But now that I am older and wiser, I hope, my understanding of the problem of gun violence is far broader.  I have worked in neighborhoods where gun violence is common and most everyone is afraid. I have worked in juvenile hall where lonely boys are made to feel a sense of belonging when they learn to use a gun.  And I have treated family members who lost a loved one from self inflicted gunshot wounds. I can’t help but now recognize how selfish I had been, ignoring the problem of gun violence far too long as other people’s problems. I now believe it is our nation’s collective problem a public health crisis that demeans us all as a society.

I feel protective of people with mental illness who are being blamed for gun violence.  I can only hope to counteract this notion by sharing the facts. I quote the words of the CEO of the American Psychological Association, Arthur Evans, PhD,  in response to many of the politicians statements implicating mental illness: “The United States is a global outlier when it comes to horrific headlines like the ones that consumed us all weekend. Although the United States makes up less than 5% of the world’s population, we are home to 31% of all mass shooters globally, according to a CNN analysis. This difference is not explained by the rate of mental illness in the U.S. The one stark difference? Access to guns.”  And in regard to those politicians who were quick to blame video games, the evidence is also clear: “Researchers have extensively studied whether there is a causal link between video games and violent behavior, and while there isn’t quite a consensus, there is broad agreement that no such link exists.”  Every country in the world has people with mental illness and people who use video games at similar rates to our own. In fact, Japan and Korea have much higher rates of video game usage but much lower rates of gun violence.   In contrast Americans own nearly half of the 60 million civilian owned guns in the world.

I share with you the conclusion and recommendation of my professional association.  I ask you to think about supporting these measures in our next election cycles and letting your local politicians know how you feel:

“Based on the psychological science, we know some of the steps we need to take. We need to limit civilians’ access to assault weapons and high-capacity magazines. We need to institute universal background checks. And we should institute red flag laws that remove guns from people who are at high risk of committing violent acts.

“And although the president called on the nation to do a ‘better job of identifying and acting on early warning signs,’ that requires research to ensure we are making decisions based on data, not prejudices and fear.

“We agree with the president’s call to strengthen background checks. But this falls woefully short of what is needed. We must take a comprehensive public health approach and provide dedicated federal funding to agencies, including the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health, to better understand the causes, contributing factors and solutions to gun violence.

“The president clearly said that it is time to stop the hateful rhetoric that is infecting the public discourse. We ask that he use his powerful position to model that behavior.  And we ask that the federal government support the research needed to better understand the causes of bigotry and hate, and their association to violence, so that we may devise evidence-based solutions.”

After reading the book “Belonging:  Remembering Ourselves Home” by Toko-pa Turner, a question she raised stayed with me.  Even now, just saying the words of the question gives me pause: “What are you most longing for?”  These words seem to touch me on a level deeper than most personal questions, as an invitation of sorts, of a more spiritual nature. I decided to do some journaling and indeed it was a rich experience I highly recommend to get in touch with what is truly important to you.  It had a great effect of differentiating what I think I want to what would truly feed me.  

We are such a goal centered society.  When you ask most people, myself included, what they think they want, most of us will say “to lose weight, to get a promotion, to go to Europe.”  We tend to think in terms of action oriented items that are controllable. So when you ask about longing, especially what you are most longing for, it feels different.  Goals tend to be from the head, while my experience of sitting with my longing seemed to come from my heart.  Longing seems to feel like an ache for something that’s missing, an essential element of life that you are missing or want more of.  

In considering what you are most longing for, you may run up against some painful truths (this is where the daily life distractions come in handy).  But so often if we can let ourselves feel our dissatisfaction and work with it, we can get to the heart of what is our truth. I must feel my loneliness to identify my longing for connection or feel my emptiness when I become aware of my longing for meaning.  And there is also some grieving that may need to happen, as well. We can’t always have what we long for, such is the truth of life and loss. But in identifying our longing and working with these feelings, we can develop an acceptance for what cannot be. It is actually through coming to terms with what is missing, that we open the doors to possibilities of what is new to discover.  

My daughter spent a semester in London this past Spring.  It was a wonderful experience for her and educational on so many levels.  Prior to going, the business program prepared the group by offering insights about subtle and not so subtle differences in how the British relate.  In visiting her and talking about her internship experience, she shared with me how being mindful of these differences was key in developing good relations with her coworkers.

Tea is, in fact, a big deal in London.  If someone offers to make it for you, it’s important to reciprocate the effort.  When you are riding the Tube (the train system), British people don’t talk. If you do talk, expect that everyone will know you are American and will listen.  When eating, you use the back of your fork, not the front, and going out for a “swift pint” is a common invitation after work. But more relationally, small talk is very important in London, but it tends to be about the weather, transportation, or even politics as opposed to personal information.  It is considered impolite to ask about family or share about your children until you know someone well. Politics, on the other hand, is much less sensitive. Compared to the eggshells people walk on around political opinions here in the US, it is considered part of small talk. In fact, some of the first things people asked her about was Trump, while no one ever asked about her family or if she had a boyfriend until near the end of her time in their office.  

It would be easy to misinterpret these differences, especially regarding small talk.  You might act rudely without knowing it, or think that no one cared because they never asked more personal information about you.  It got me thinking about how many layers of cultural interpretation we live with every day. In the melting pot of our country, we have become more aware of the need for understanding cultural differences, and most people try to educate themselves.  But what about our more hidden or less obvious cultural differences? I’m thinking that we are all raised in unique households that develop their own cultures by the blending of people and personalities. In deconstructing my own family culture growing up, it was a mix of Depression era habits (we put catsup on spaghetti!), New York Brooklynisms (Mets, not Yankees, Giants, not Jets and we drink Cawfee, not coffee) and Eastern Eurpean Jewishness (some trauma related paranoia, Yiddish insults, and of course, cake after your brisket).  Combine that with my husband’s Irish Catholic historical influence (he notes for example you would never hire anyone to fix what you can do yourself and suffering is a virtue) and this creates a whole new culture for our children in how our own family histories are blended.

We go through our days assuming others think and act in the same understandings as we do.  Especially if we think of ourselves as similar to someone, we make assumptions that may not be accurate, especially regarding motivations or intentions.  Travel is a great way of stepping back from your own experience and recognizing that most things we assume to be the way things are done or assume to be true, aren’t necessarily the way things are or have to be!  Her stories invite me to think about the cultures we are raised in on many levels (family, extended family, neighborhood, town, State, Country) and how this might influence the way we experience the world. It can affirm our commitment to traditions, but also free us up to make changes.

Discovering that most people eat pasta sauce on spaghetti at my best friend’s house was life changing.  But I must admit with some embarrassment, when I’m home alone on a rainy day and I’m feeling blue, a good bowl of noodles with a squirt of Heinz and a sprinkle of Kraft Parmesan is somehow oddly comforting!  Just goes to prove that taste and perspective is all in what you were raised with!

I just returned from a few days of camping.  Right before I left a member of my community very suddenly and tragically lost her 26 year old son to a unexpected illness.  Right after I got back I learned that another member of my community’s husband had a fatal health crisis. These unexpected deaths shatter people’s lives.  For the loved ones, there is no chance for preparation and their sense of trust in the world gets completely lost. I think of the Humpty Dumpty rhyme as people scramble to be of help and support, with nothing to be done to take away the pain and the reality or put things back together again.  I can only tell myself and other people who ask for my advice about how to be of help, that this will be a forever thing. Yes, be there now, but the marathon of grieving is a long and lonely run. Being there for someone in six months, a year, and even 25 years is what we can and need to do.

I recently read a book I found very helpful, called “The Orphaned Adult:  Coping with Grief and Change” (by Alexander Levy).” What I found really resonated with me in my own experience of grief and with so many of the people I know or work with, is the idea of change.  In grief there is a great contrast. The loss of someone is so permanent and final, it is hard to think about change and yet, as life goes on for the living, both the nature of our grief and our very lives themselves are constantly changing.  There are so many layers that unfold over time. For example, in the beginning, after my sister died, I was in such a state of shock. It took me a long time to feel I could use my full brain again. Then, in time, I began to miss having someone to recall our childhood events or compare perspectives to.  And now, 25 years later, I still feel the loss in ever shifting ways. I mourn the children she never had a chance to have, the Aunt she could never be to my children, and getting old together. For my mother, I first mourned the loss of the mother she was when she lived with us, disabled and vulnerable. But over time, I am mourning the mother she was when I was growing up.  I imagine this, too, will change, especially as I get older and closer to the age she was when she got ill.

It is hard sometimes for people to talk about their losses after an average of about six months.  A grief group leader I spoke with verified this as her experience. She notices people join her group at about that stage in their grief process, sharing that they no longer felt they had anyone to talk to.  Other people move on, other losses take precedence, and people feel that either they shouldn’t or it isn’t received well when they bring up their grief. At the same time, for many people, the true nature of their grieving is kicking in; they are coming out of a phase of shock and the reality of their loss is becoming clear.  They are beginning to accept not only what happened and how sad it is, but the changes that will forever be a part of their lives. The plans they had, the future they had predicted, and the ripples of change that loss brings about are being felt.  

So if you are wondering how to be of help to someone, don’t worry, you have time.  It is such a gift to people who have lost loved ones to ask about the person who died or about themselves and talk about the grief, even years later.  It feels good to be reassured that you can keep grieving and that the changes you are continuing to go through can be witnessed and understood by those around you.  I once heard someone describe grief over the long term: the hole inside never goes away, but you grow around it. Being a safe person for someone to talk to, at any point along the journey is precious.  Don’t feel the need to have answers and don’t be afraid that they are still really hurting. Grief is a long slow evolving process – it ages along with the rest of us.

This post is dedicated to Bonnie Slotnick with much gratitude for her effort and kindness.

I almost deleted the email.  It looked like some sort of a scam.  The subject line read: “Something of Yours-?”  Annoyed, I assumed it was someone trying to get me to send money to some foreign country, complete with my credit card information.  Fortunately, my curiosity got the best of me as I noticed there was a photo attached.

“I have a cookbook shop in New York,” the note began.  She described how she purchases things that her friend finds at thrift shops to complement her vintage cook books.  Among the items she had acquired was a thirteen inch spoon with an inscription on it that she believed once belonged to me.  It ended with “If you would like to have it, I’ll be happy to send it to you.”

As the photo opened up on my computer screen, it was like traveling in a time machine.  Engraved on the spoon handle was indeed my name, the date 10-16-77, the name Ebony, and the letters “1st W.T.C.”  Sluth that she was, and a fellow horsewoman, Bonnie realized the letters stood for Walk-Trot-Cantor, and that this spoon was a prize from a horse show.  “As a rider myself, I would love to be reunited with such a trophy, had I ever won one,” she said.

Indeed, I was thrilled to see that spoon and hold it in my hand again, all these many years later.  But there was so much more to the story for me, beyond being a practically antique trophy! The horse’s name on the spoon was the first horse I had ever been allowed to take care of.  After years of wishing, dreaming, and making deals with the devil in my mind, my mother advocated for me and allowed me to lease a little black horse owned by a former neighbor who now lived on a farm.  It was the beginning of intense years of riding, working at the stables to pay for lessons, and feeling a sense of belonging and identity.

My mother spent many hours driving me to barns and tack shops (I could spend hours just buying a lead rope).  She woke up at 4 am many a Saturday or Sunday morning to take me to the stable so I could travel with my trainer to a horse show.  She watched countless laps around a ring that must have looked all the same to her for so much of it. She learned the phrases as I did, countercanter, change of lead, and the significance of 3’6” (the height of the jumps in the highest youth division). And most of all, she endured the scrapes, bruises, and broken bones that come with a rider’s life as well as the bruises to the heart as a girl outgrows her first mount or fails to make the finals in the most important of shows.

After the wildfire of October 2016, my relationship with “stuff” has changed.  When you almost lose everything and have friends who actually do, it reorients you to what indeed you want to keep.  When the granny unit that my mother was living in burned down, I lost so much of what was to be inherited of our family memories, especially of my mother’s family history and her own mementos I had always assumed I would have to keep. Bonnie, sitting in her shop in NYC, could have had no idea what that spoon would mean to me – a rare piece of my childhood and a symbol of the bond with my late mother that survived that horrible day.

As I hold the spoon in my hand, I can smell the grass as the hooves of my horse move through it on that chilly October morning in New Jersey. I can feel the leather of the saddle beneath me and the sound of the thud as I dismount. I hand my mother a carrot, and as scared as she ever could be, she would lean over and offer it to the beautiful animal she was absolutely terrified to be near.  But she loved me, and since I loved that horse, she loved it, too. A big thanks to Bonnie, a lover of books and of old stories, who took the time to find me, even to call me, and made this happy reunion possible. It is a reunion not just with a spoon, but with a girl, a love, and a mother’s love that still lives on within me.  

It’s such a fun time of year with graduations all around the community. Every college, high school, and even your local elementary school has their ceremony to honor the achievements of our young people.  Besides the academic success, just getting through the social dramas and bureaucratic tangles is something to celebrate! But I am reminded of some advice I learned from my studies (and find to be true in experience) about accomplishment.  That after achieving any goal, even ones you have longed for your whole life, there can be a let down. Understanding this phenomenon can be helpful in keeping yourself on track.

The wave of disappointment that often occurs after success was named the “arrival fallacy” by Harvard expert on positive psychology, Tal Ben-Shahar.  (I would assume a Harvard grad would have had have some!) He describes it as “the illusion that once we make it, once we achieve our goal or reach our destination, we will reach lasting happiness.”   He posits that this is why so many celebrities struggle with depression and substance abuse. They may start out unhappy with the dream that once they make it, they will be happy. After they achieve their goal, they are happy for a little while, but it doesn’t last.  Then there is a hopelessness that couples with the unhappiness.

The old adage that it is the journey, not the destination, seems to be true, at least for long term happiness.  A promotion or a degree will definitely get you more money and open doors that are important for your well being, which contributes to your quality of life.  Most of us are raised with the values of the American Dream – work hard and achieve success, and you will be happy. But once you achieve a goal, life doesn’t magically transform to being a bed of roses.  You are still the same person you were before, and now you may have even more stress or pressure in your new role.

So what is a hard working person who wants to be successful to do?  Don’t stop setting goals, the experts say. In fact, the pursuit of goals can contribute to happiness.  As long as these goals bring value and meaning to your life while you are pursuing them. If you want to be a successful comedian, the process of writing jokes and performing, no matter where, will bring you contentment.  Getting your own HBO special will be the icing on the cake. We are a future oriented people, Dr. Ben-Shahar notes. We need to have goals. But he suggests having multiple goals in multiple areas of your life, both in and outside of work, can help keep you balanced.  And watch out for any sentences that sound like: “I’ll be happy if I can just achieve X.” With all the focus on the perceived benefits of the outcome, we set ourselves up for arrival fallacy.

I remember it well.  After the initial tickle of calling ourselves “Dr.” wore off (especially when people seemed disappointed we were not cardiologists or orthopedic surgeons) we all felt a sense of depletion.  All the years of schooling, all the classes, oral exams and dissertation, we had finally arrived. I had my doctorate hanging on the wall, but I was in tears, sitting at my computer, worrying about getting licensed.  I almost quit. I had fantasies of owning a doughnut shop, early mornings and selling things that instantly made people happy. But luckily deep down I knew that I loved psychology and that the doctorate and license were just vehicles to do the work that I enjoyed, not the end in themselves.  (And I am a terrible cook and would just eat up all my profits, anyhow.)

So my advice to any graduate, or any person who achieves their goal, is to celebrate while you can! But celebrate the process of what it took to get there and the reasons you are doing it. Then kiss your friends and family who supported you along the way.  Spend time with them and share what is important to you. Then set some new goals that also matter. Lately I have been thinking of life as a series of summits in climbing a mountain.  You climb and climb, and then when you arrive, you get a new view of another stage of the climb ahead that you couldn’t see before. Life is never about arriving at a final destination while you are living it.  But it is so important to put down your pack, grab a good snack, and enjoy the view.