Turns Out the Obsession With the Self Hasn’t Made Us Any Happier
Empathy, community, and sharing are values that we have to bring back.
Leaving school on an autumn day and seeing the change of season. Watching the day fade away to make way for the night that was now coming earlier, then the walk home on that early winter afternoon and after a day at school, crossing the dark, dimly lit village road.
Even that old coat once worn by my aunts that weighed me down and barely kept me warm. Or the lack of gloves on my hands, along with my fast step home that was taken in fear of evil fairies coming from the forest, a clear result of my overly fertile imagination that pushed my legs to get out of there;
And of course, that wonderful opening of my parent’s door house, which eased the anxiety of getting home soon, that grew up even faster the moment I saw the light coming from inside, mainly from the fireplace that would be warmly awaiting me, and finally, best of all, my mother’s embrace that, more than that fire, warmed me even more than any other accessory.
If I had to tell someone about the happiest experience I’ve had or identify what real happiness looks like, you know, the kind we don’t know we have until many years later when we can feel it from a distance.
If I had to, I would describe what I’ve just told you.
I cannot identify a particular day when this happened, but rather a routine that lasted for a few years of my pre-adolescence, that age when we don’t tell anyone that we still believe in imaginary things and when we almost rationally know that they are inconceivable, but we still cling to them alone and in our hearts.
Just like the love we feel for our parents as the greatest refuge we could ever have, especially our mother’s embrace in which we relegate all our insecurities and which makes us feel that we are protected against any misfortune in life, whatever it may be.
That hug after a long day of classes outside our comfort zone was the most marvelous shield of protection I could have.
And the description of the happy place could easily go on: at times, that warm room, contrasting with the cold of the rest of the house, was filled either with a game of cards with my paternal grandfather or, later and sadly, with a game of cards with just the four of us, my parents, me and my brother.
Sometimes, happiness also arose when my brother and I would escape to the larger living room, and even in the face of the cold and the clear humidity of that place, we would stay there and watch a series we liked, neglecting the hassle of having to watch the news with mom and dad.
There are clearly other moments of happiness that are more recent: my husband hugging me when he gets home, our cat getting up to mischief and us laughing at her, or Sunday family lunches with my family and my brother’s all around the table at my parents’ house eating good food, preparing it all together, and staying there for as long as we can.
In all these moments of happiness that I can think of, there’s one thing in common: I’m never alone, whether in childhood or adulthood.
And in almost all of them, there’s a table, food that’s shared, and people who talk, with no one overpowering anyone else.
It’s easy to perceive that happiness, or at least one source of it, comes from sharing with other beings, even if they’re not even human, our lives. And look at this: as I write these words, my cat has just climbed on top of me and is insistently trying to sit on this keyboard, ironically wanting me to put down this technology and pay attention to her.
It almost seems unreal, but perhaps she’s trying to help me better convey this idea of mine that we’ve been sharing our attention in the wrong way for a long time already.
It’s more than obvious and a bit cliché to say how cell phones have robbed us of so much, including the whole scenario I described earlier, and that, as such, they have robbed us of so many potential sources of happiness.
And even when we’re happy, we can’t seem to let go of this enormous need for exhibitionism, to flash on somebody else's face how great our lives are.
We already know that the digital revolution, or worse, social media, has done nothing but inflate egos, cause envy, and show totally dystopian and unrealistic lives. We keep seeing the clichés of perfect lives, perfect bodies, and perfect trips around the world, and we keep falling into the same trap of thinking that we’re not happy because we don’t have any of that when happiness is so far removed from everything that’s displayed online.
Alongside all this, the infinite world of gurus and coaches to feed individualism continues to proliferate more than ever before. (This is just a bunch of lunatics, freeloaders, and scammers!)
Everything is centered on the self, on what I can achieve, on what I can be on my own without needing anyone else, on the obstacles I can overcome and keep going until the end of time.
It sounds like a harmless and empowering narrative at first without any damage to people’s souls, but it’s a partially false narrative (yes, partially, not everything is white or black), which hides from us how we human beings are all connected, how we need each other not only to be happy but to live well, and even to survive.
Personally, during the short space of time (only about three months) when I lived on my own, I initially felt an enormous sense of euphoria and contentment. Finally, I thought, after years of sharing apartments, mainly with strangers, I was finally living on my own, and I couldn’t feel more excited about it.
But it was an initial euphoria that quickly turned to a slight feeling of abandonment, loneliness, and a heightened sense of feeling in danger.
When night came, almost as freezing as the nights of my childhood, the locked door leading to the street began to be checked two or three times.
The sounds coming from outside all seemed to enter the house, and sleep was definitely more problematic, sometimes mixed with the reality of being alone and with my mind wandering to things that were once again unreal, from ghosts or very much alive beings that in the dead of night would break down that apartment door, and find me there, in that sleeping state, unprepared, without being able to defend myself.
And all these thoughts were happening while I was living in rural Portugal, one of the four most peaceful countries in the world.
It wasn’t such a happy time after all.
I was independent, yes, but I was suffocating at work, and I’d come home to a dark apartment with no light, and no hug, and nobody to talk to.
I was a grown-up woman, but I wanted to go back to my mom’s lap if I could. Happiness then only seemed to be real when it was shared, and it’s an idea we all know but have abandoned as a whole to become a bunch of I, I, I…
We have to begin to (re)cultivate these values, to create empathy, and to resume establishing emotional bonds with those around us.
If we did this, we would also be closer to solving the problems that afflict us as humanity because we would see the whole world, all of us, as just one, and perhaps the lenses of empathy would finally arrive to all individuals, and we would begin to act as a community, realizing that someone else’s suffering would also be our own.
Until then, if we don’t change our attitude, happiness will remain a utopia, and our capacity to survive as a civilization is more and more lost.
Hello, I’m Araci, a female writer from Portugal. I like to write about my country, Portugal. But I also enjoy politics, economics, and issues concerning the climate crisis I’m witnessing in my life and where I live.
If you have enjoyed this article, maybe you would like to buy me a “coffee” here: https://ko-fi.com/joanaaraci. You can also join Medium now for only 5$ a month! This gives you access to thousands of articles!
If you do it through my referral link, part of your membership fee directly supports me. Here it is:
You can also find more about me here: