Saturday, 14 January 2012
Is busy-ness equal to happiness?
I wonder if busy-ness is equal to happiness? Is it perhaps a part of the requirement for happiness? Or is that when we're busy, we don't notice if we're happy or not?
I'm not talking about crazy-busy (like pre-Christmas can be, for example). I'm talking about having enough, and maybe a bit more, to fit into a day; Things that need to happen, or that you have a strong desire to have happen.
Yesterday I had a lovely day to myself. Except it wasn't quite lovely (see yesterday's post, A Day to Myself).
Today, having the Little Big Fella home meant that things needed to be done, even if only to entertain him. So we've been for a bike ride along the beach, mowed the lawn, washed and vacuumed the car, and played with the neigbourhood kids. And my happiness rating is definitely higher today than yesterday.
And I've noticed this about myself. As an at-home-mum/housekeeper/wife/nurse/taxi/negotiator, the days can be rather repetitive, so motivation to “get stuff done” can sometimes be hard to come by. I can always fit it into the next day, or the next, or the next. I'm finding this especially so with the Big Fella away because there's no one in the house who'll care, or even notice, if stuff isn't done. There's no one to “perform” for.
Which leads me to think that I'm a rather shallow individual with no self-motivation.
Which doesn't make me happy.
But the thing is, on a busy day where I accomplish lots of things (be they housework tasks, errands, entertaining or educating the Little Big Fella, catching up with friends, getting my “craft on”, or whatever) I feel much better. And whenever I'm evaluating my life, my answer always seems to be to do something else.
I guess my question is, by doing something, am I actually addressing the core need, or am I just masking it with more stuff?