3 Ways in Which the Mind Makes Us Unhappy
What I learnt about the human mind during a difficult time
When things are going well, we tend to pay little attention to our minds. The mind operates as a means to an end, when we think of our go-to meals in order to write a grocery shopping list. It becomes the stage for our delight, when we go on a day trip to a nearby lake. And it can seem to disappear completely, when we are immersed in a project at work. But when things are not going well, not paying attention to our minds can quickly make us miserable.
Fall 2021 was a difficult time for me. A series of events in my professional and personal life triggered a current of emotional turmoil. I was overcome by feelings I struggled to name. Mostly I just felt confused, wounded and scared. The emotions were overwhelming in and of themselves, but accompanied by recurring negative thoughts they felt almost unbearable.
I felt stuck in my mind and body, desperate to get out, yet unable to find the exit.
I felt stuck in my mind and body, desperate to get out, yet unable to find the exit. Feeling powerless in the face of my experience, I could think of only one tool: mindfulness.
I have meditated regularly for about two years, but during fall 2021, I began to practice more intentionally outside of my 10-minute morning meditation as well. Whenever I remembered, I tried to punctuate the Zoom calls, the afternoon walks and the trips to the grocery store with brief moments of curious observation: What thoughts were floating through my mind? How was my body feeling?
Over the course of several weeks, my practice led to three observations about the nature of the mind-body continuum. These small insights offered me relief during a difficult time, but they also helped me understand how the mind can make us unhappy. The first realization came to me on a particularly eventful day.
1. The mind believes that negative emotional states are permanent
One Wednesday morning last fall I received some bad news at work. It made me feel ashamed, scared and very confused. To get through the workday, I called my friends and family for support. I cried so much on the phone that by the end of the day I was exhausted and suffering from a light headache.
Later the same day, I went to a party hosted by a person I had recently met. Despite my lousy workday I was eager to go because I had a small crush on this person. At first, I felt nervous because I was surrounded by a handful of strangers speaking mostly Italian. But after the first 20 minutes or so I found myself engaged in conversation. I was listening, laughing and talking like I hadn’t received any bad news in the morning.
At the end of the night, I was sitting on the couch talking with my crush. I wondered out loud about something that had just struck me: “Isn’t it crazy how you can feel absolutely terrible at one point in the day and pretty good later the same day?” He responded by saying that he was sorry that the situation at work was so bad. But I wasn’t feeling sorry. I had just uncovered a phenomenon that piqued my interest.
Over the following weeks, I began to pay closer attention to how my emotional states evolved over time. I could feel frustrated and distracted during the workday, but calm and centered at the rock climbing gym in the evening. I could burst into tears while talking to a friend over tea on Saturday morning, but watch a dance performance in a state of awe the same night.
A painful feeling could sometimes stay with me for over an hour or rattle me in waves throughout the day. But I couldn’t reliably predict my future feelings based on what I was experiencing in the present moment.
A painful feeling could sometimes stay with me for over an hour or rattle me in waves throughout the day. But I couldn’t reliably predict my future feelings based on what I was experiencing in the present moment. These observations went against the narrative the mind often tries to convince us of.
When we are caught up in a strong emotion, we tend to forget that we are capable of having a different experience of life. If this moment is terrible, so will the next one be. If this day is terrible, the next one must be, too. If this week is terrible — you get the point. But observing the impermanence of emotional states can help us challenge this narrative offering a sense of relief during difficult times.
At some point during fall 2021, I began to tell myself “This too shall pass” whenever I felt overwhelmed. I would recall a day when I felt good and remind myself that another such day would come. Reciting a well-known cliché may not change the experience itself, but it can peel off one layer of mind-made unhappiness.
The next small epiphany came to me during a classical music concert I struggled to focus on.
2. Thoughts cloud our perception of the present moment
A few weeks before Christmas I went to listen to Igor Stravinky’s Oedipus Rex at the Helsinki Music Centre. My friend and I sat in the third row, so close to the performers that we could see their gestures and facial expressions while they played. But as I sat there trying to listen, I was constantly interrupted by my thoughts.
I thought about work, the dance class I had attended before the opera, but mostly, a relationship I felt insecure about. I replayed memories with this person and thought about all the questions I had for him. I imagined what I would say the next time we met and how he might respond.
And then I would be jolted back into the concert hall, the clarinet, the violins and the choir filling my ears and the performers’ fierce and focused expressions capturing my sight. Another moment would pass, and there I would be again, thinking, thinking, thinking, the music fading into the background. Like a pendulum, I swung between being in the concert hall and being in my mind. This continued for the entire duration of the opera, for about 1,5 hours.
When my friend and I walked to the bus station after the concert, I wondered how an invisible thing like thought could distort my attention so completely. Lost in my memories, worries and plans, I could neither see nor hear the playing and singing. It was as if I left the concert hall.
To validate my observations, I began to pay attention to my attention in other situations as well. On my morning walks, I found it difficult to admire the snow that had covered the trees like a thick layer of icing sugar. When I had friends over for tea, I could miss entire bits of conversation.
It may sound overly dramatic, but essentially, thoughts were making me blind and deaf.
It may sound overly dramatic, but essentially, thoughts were making me blind and deaf. Being absent in this way I couldn’t truly be there for my friends, family and colleagues, or enjoy the things I was doing.
What’s more, the thoughts my mind kept pushing to the forefront were rarely helpful. They blamed either me or others for how I was feeling, wrapping negative emotions in a dramatic narrative like the tube of hand cream your aunt has decided to hide inside a large box to make her Christmas present seem more fun and exciting.
But how does that pompous box affect our lives? It creates an unnecessary barrier between you and a person or situation, leading to false interpretations, disproportionate reactions and bad decisions.
Thinking makes us fixated on either the past or the future clouding our view of the present. But learning to observe the busy mind can help us look at the world more objectively — or at least become aware of the narratives that claim to explain our situation.
The third insight occurred to me when I got tired of feeling miserable.
3. The mind claims that we have no power over our experience
After a few weeks of emotional turmoil, I began to witness its negative effects on me. I felt distracted, annoyed and uninspired. As a result, I was unable to get anything valuable done at work. I had also stopped writing in the mornings — a habit I had worked hard to adopt.
Surely, my mood and behavior were also affecting other people, but I realized that the one who suffered the most was me.
But then, sitting at my home office desk on a Tuesday morning I became aware of what was happening. By complaining and avoiding the things I was supposed to do or that used to bring me joy I was ruining my own day. Surely, my mood and behavior were also affecting other people, but I realized that the one who suffered the most was me.
That’s when a seemingly obvious idea came to me. What if I just continued doing the things I wanted to do despite how I was feeling? What if I simply took on a new work task? What if I got back to writing?
That morning I opened a Google doc with a draft of a Medium article. And there I was: writing (or at least staring at the page trying to formulate a sentence). Occasionally a bad feeling or a nagging thought entered my consciousness, but after recognizing it I redirected my focus on the article. When I finished writing that morning, I found myself whistling and humming a song while preparing my breakfast.
That’s exactly what had happened: I had shifted my state by doing things — not by ruminating on my problems.
Afterwards, I was reminded of a phrase the podcast host and ultrarunner Rich Roll often says on his podcast: “Mood follows action.” That’s exactly what had happened: I had shifted my state by doing things — not by ruminating on my problems.
Whenever I remembered this insight, I tried to work on a project for at least 15 minutes. I can’t say it felt easy changing my behavior when I wasn’t feeling good. But I found that after the initial resistance — and as long as I didn’t interrupt myself by checking social media or making myself yet another cup of tea — I began to enjoy what I was doing.
If we are capable of shining the light of awareness on our situation we may notice that we have a choice: to remain miserable or to do something despite feeling miserable.
Playing around with attention while overcome by negative thoughts and emotions taught me that we have more power over our experience than we think. If we are capable of shining the light of awareness on our situation we may notice that we have a choice: to remain miserable or to do something despite feeling miserable. And by changing the doing, we may change our minds.
* * *
As awful as fall 2021 felt, it helped me understand that it’s neither the people nor the events that make us unhappy. It’s our minds.
I also learnt that observing our thoughts and emotions with curiosity and kindness is the best — and sometimes the only — tool for dealing with whatever life decides to throw at us.
I can’t guarantee that mindfulness will change your experience. But I can guarantee that it will help you get on with your life. Or let life get on through you. What else is there to do anyway?
