You feel like a victim of Exitance?
Let me be harsh, and don't take it personally, I am also harsh to myself from time to time: what's your problem: is your professional life going nowhere? do you feel alone, unloved? has your relationship fallen apart or are you unable to find love? Do you have complexes?
Think about what you have now, what you enjoy today.
You don’t have to write a gratitude journal, as far as I am concerned, it's not my thing; but on the other hand, it helps to take a step back, to look at things from a broader perspective (which by the way is a spiritual exercise practiced by the Stoics).
It helps a lot.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty because feel like I'm reducing my own guilt in light of the unhappiness of others; but I haven't found an answer yet to this dilemma, so as of today, I am leaving it as is.
As I write this, the year is 2024, and two years ago the war in Ukraine began.
Families were torn apart, men just out of their teens were sent to the front. Every day they fight in the cold, their feet are damp, their stomachs empty, the love of their loved ones clings to their hearts like a memory that soothes them and hurts at the same time. How long has it been since they hugged their loved ones? How long has it been since they made love to their wives? Their wives, left alone in the dark to soothe the cries of their children as the bombs fall. Luckily, this bomb didn't hit them. But maybe it's the neighbor we met in the park on Saturday afternoon, when life was still normal, whose body is now lifeless. She won't know until tomorrow or in a few days. When the bombing has stopped and she might still be able to buy flour and milk so she doesn't starve.
I remember watching the account of a Ukrainian man, I believe he was a soldier.
The scene was filmed in an apartment building not far from the battlefield. The apartment was bathed in orange light, and a thin ray of sunlight crept between two thick curtains to crash against the dated wallpaper on the opposite wall. The man probably didn't want to be seen. He spent his days on his phone and computer, chatting with his compatriots, his friends. The ashtray was full, the air stale, the furniture faded and awkwardly arranged. Everything in his environment was as rudimentary as the pleasures of a past life: this man on camera confessed: "Happiness for me today," he said, "is eating pizza in front of the TV with my wife and children". I don't know whether this man had lost his family, or just had to leave them to go into battle; but one thing's for sure, it's in situations like these that we realize how incredibly lucky we are to live. To be able to spend moments as insignificant as eating and sharing a pizza with your loved ones in front of the television.
So when you're feeling a bit blah, think of that Ukrainian soldier.
I could have talked about the tens of thousands of migrants who died in the waters of the Mediterranean, seeking in vain a better life in Europe, I could have told you about the hell on earth in Gaza as I write these lines, but it's the image of this soldier that often comes to mind. Perhaps because it also echoes something a businessman once said to me; in an interview, he told the journalist something like: "Happiness isn't drinking mango juice on a heavenly beach, it's going home every night and being able to kiss your wife". I think that, indirectly, the soldier's words also echo Schopenhauer's phrase: "Happiness is a succession of small pleasures".
Find your own image.
If you are already {{username}},
are satisfied with the small, basic things in life: your job, the roof over your head, your friends, maybe your spouse, and even a family with healthy children; maybe if you put things in perspective, you can tell yourself that you have enough to be happy; and that if you wish for a little less, maybe you envy others a little less compared to what others enjoy on this earth - which is very little - maybe you have everything to be happy.
I leave you with these thoughts.
Before I go, I want to make something clear: I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I'm just inviting you to an exercise in relativization.