'Happiness takes work' by Philip Marsh

Introduced by Linda Jones

PHILIP contributed to a piece I wrote about depression among journalists. 

He also sent me the following piece, which now that I am well, I look at differently. When I was depressed, I read Philip's words and nodded along, agreeing that happiness was dependant on your life, work and friendship.

But now as I read it, I find myself wanting to butt in, and tell the writer it's okay to be sad and that sometimes this is a health issue and nobody's fault.

You could have the best friends and the most brilliant of jobs and become ill, and if this does happen, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it.

I once walked out of a doctor's surgery and ripped up a prescription designed to tackle mental illness. I wish I had accepted I was suffering earlier.

What do you think? And what of Philip's views on how happiness has become a political battleground?

I'd love to know your opinion of Philip's article and I'd also like to send him a massive thank you for allowing us to publish it. Philip is not his real name.   

I CAN'T stop staring at the chart on the wall – is it true that I really need to eat five to nine pieces of fruit a day? And drink two litres of water? If so, how would I find time to do anything else?  Like breathe or get dressed in the morning?

This was what I was musing over when, late last year, I was diagnosed with depression. I remember the moment clearly: I was staring at the charts on the wall just over the shoulder of a man wearing a stethoscope the same way I wear a tie – as a totemic sign of seriousness.

I was sat in a doctor's office in a seaside suburb,  feeling completely ridiculous while a man who may have been younger than me (and I'm only 30) prescribed me a course of anti-depressant  medicine and told me that my opinion that sadness should not be medicalized was beside the point.

He was doing his job diligently and seemed to be a caring and professional person but all I could think was that malingering was easier than I thought it would be.

What is it about happiness, though? Naturally we all want to be happy but when did we come to the conclusion that we all deserved it, all  the time? Happiness have even gone political and you can expect to  hear more about it in these times of recession. If money is not on the table you can be sure we will be promised other rewards instead.

The term Gross National Happiness (GNP) was coined in 1972 by Jigme Singye Wangchuck, king of Bhutan as an alternative measurement of  national success. It’s no surprise that such an idea should emanate from the medievalist ruler of an impoverished nation: the people of Bhutan may be undereducated, penniless and ruled by a hereditary  monarch but that’s OK – they’re happy. According to the king at least.

Over the years this concept has moved slowly into the political mainstream. In 2006 the leader of Britain’s Conservative party, David Cameron, said: “It’s time we admitted that there’s more to life than  money and it’s time we focused not just on GDP but on GWB—general well-being.”

The recent election of Barack Obama as President of the United States, meanwhile, was motivated as much by the promise of happiness as with  unhappiness at this successor. Obama's message: "Can we do it? Yes we can!" is implicitly based on the offer of contentment.

More importantly, though, Obama's message is one of contentment through achievement and common bonds, something that seems more reasonable to me than the idea that the tablet I take every day at  noon will do anything much for me.

I have no idea if Obama's mission will succeed and I remain suspicious of the idea of happiness as a political issue but I am convinced that work and friendship are the keys to a happy life.

I still don't know if I am actually depressed or not – the term has become so elastic in the modern world, encompassing everything from  feeling blue to serious emotional disturbance – but I am working on 
being happy.

Leaving the doctor's office, prescription and open-ended sick note in-hand, I listened to the birds singing as I walked to my ancient, dowdy little car. I opened the passenger door (the lock is broken on the driver's side) and clambered over the seat while the sun shone in through the windshield. I wasn't  happy, I was upset, so I took the top down off the car to let the wind and light in, turned the radio on and drove off acting as if I was happy.

Close enough. Happiness takes work.

Comments

[Nickie @ Typecast]

There is a fine line between happiness and hysteria and my husband finds it difficult to find the right side of that line. Sometimes, I hear him speak cheerfully and laugh but I cringe inwardly because it is so forced and fake. Yet, the people he is speaking to believe that he is happy and uplifted. But that's (a) because they don't know his background and (b) because they've only ever met him in jolly social situations.

[Sharon]

Sweet and vivid piece... speaks of so many people's daily lives... smiling to the outside world, silently hurting inside... giving life all they've got... thank you.

[Gigi (MumsRock)]

Happiness - what is it anyway?

The only person I know who automatically wakes up happy is three years old and in love with a boy called Rocco from school because he has 'big teeth'. If only we could be contented with such things now that we are 'big'.