The Nine Rooms of Happiness: Loving Yourself, Finding Your Purpose, and Getting Over Life's Little Imperfections (24 page)

The best reward is being good to yourself and taking care of yourself, and Tracy hasn’t figured out how to do that. Now that she’s at the breaking point, she has to. “Other people think I have it so easy, what do I have to complain about? You want to say right back to them, ‘I was at the pool all day doing everything for my kids and I can’t take it anymore!’ Then I realize, most people would have loved to be at a pool all day. It sounds great but it was really hard. Now whenever I am ready to snap I tell my kids, ‘I’m at my throw-down-the-apron moment.’ And they know exactly what I mean and they give me some help or a break or they carry their own bags to the car.

“And then when they are all sweet like that I realize they aren’t
in
the way of my having a good day—they
are
the way.” That’s where, ultimately, Tracy found her pearl. She even created a needlepoint pillow with her favorite saying on it: “They aren’t
in
the way, they
are
the way.” And it may be hard sometimes, but in the end she knows it’s worth it and they do appreciate her. They just don’t always say it. She has to remember to appreciate herself and
take care of
herself. She’s the only one who truly can do that. So it’s up to her to do it—for herself and her family. Value yourself, and other people will value you too.

Tess, a graduate student in history, with a focus on the history of foods of different cultures, knows she uses cooking to get love and approval. But that’s how it’s always been, how it was at home with her family. While she knows it’s a bit odd, she can’t really see how it gets in the way of her relationships. That said, she is well known for brief love affairs that never really get anywhere.

Tess is a self-described serial monogamist, and she’s in the early stages of a new relationship and doesn’t want to screw it up this time. “But I haven’t invited him over for dinner yet. Strange as it sounds, I’d probably sleep with a guy before I would cook for him. Anyone can have sex, but only I can make osso buco in my very special way. I can always tell when I’m really falling in love. I get these tender fantasies of shopping for and
feeding the guy. There is this distinct switch when my feelings start to deepen.”

Catherine points out that the downside of Tess’s love affair with food (and men) comes when the recipient of her creations doesn’t appreciate her efforts. “They don’t have to lick their plates clean,” Tess says, “but I count on seeing their satisfaction. I feel kind of rejected or insulted if the person I’m cooking for doesn’t like it. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but I’ve always been someone who likes to please others, and I like the singular attention I get for making an amazing meal. It fulfills some need in me. I’m getting their approval, their love.”

Even Tess knows that her “food as approval” equation isn’t really about food. Substitute food for anything you do that has a performance (and praise) component to it and you will have the same issues. Is it your writing of proposals at work? You beam for days after your colleagues say you write the best proposals in the business. Maybe you play the piano, and the sole reason you love doing it is the feedback when you play for others. It could be arranging flowers, baking scones, or even playing tennis—the attention it brings you is addictive. And when you don’t get it you’re like a junkie without her fix. This means you are dealing with issues related to vanity, self-esteem, and validation.

Tess is using food as a way of pinging, Catherine points out, since she is eager to get approval and affirmation, which she has lacked since she was a girl. Both her parents were hypercritical academics who made her feel as if she was never good enough. But her cooking always won kudos from friends, boyfriends, and others, and she could even get her parents to oooh and aaah over her special dinners. It was the only time they ever truly praised her from the heart. Now she is seeking that same kind of love in her relationships.

Once Tess realizes that she is playing out the patterns of her youth she can stop performing for others and start enjoying her cooking for what it is—a personal creative act. Still, she has trouble asking others to take care of her the way she likes to take care of them. It’s almost impossible to have a meal and let it just be about the food, plain and simple. That’s when she
should tell herself, “I like to cook, but sometimes other people can cook for me.”

Tess needs to find self-love and then serve others because it brings her pleasure, not because she is feeding her own neediness. Let her kitchen be the place food is kept, prepared, and served, not the throne room where she is the queen and her subjects kiss her ring, and her cinnamon buns.

Saturday should be Sharon’s happiest day, but instead, it’s her worst. She wishes she could enjoy a free day with her husband and their three kids. Instead she wakes up tense, with too much to do and not enough hours to get it all done. This perfect storm of expectations versus reality leads to what she calls “the Saturday Snit.”

Sharon realizes that she’s holding herself and her family to an unrealistic standard. “I have this constant thing hanging over my head that I should be perfect. I have a Martha Stewart fantasy for my home, but I really hate cooking, and I really, really hate cleaning. But I still race around, trying to have the perfect home, still trying to be the perfect host.

“I try to talk myself out of it by saying, ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ What if one of my friends came over and my house was a mess and I had no food to serve them? Really, would that be so terrible? None of my friends have neat houses or food to offer me, either, and I don’t judge them. So I don’t know why I feel this way. I feel like I’m constantly keeping chaos at bay.

“I either overschedule to the point where I’m pissed if things don’t go exactly according to plan, or I try to be laid-back and give my husband, William, stuff to do. But then I second-guess everything he does, and I make him crazy too. That’s a big issue between the two of us.

“William and I are trying to embrace the fact that when you have three little kids, there’s always somebody acting up. But when it’s actually happening, we feel angry and overwhelmed and frustrated, even though we know it’s gonna happen every weekend.

“My husband and I often turn to each other and say, ‘I just need a break.’ But I’ve come to realize that
nobody
gets a break. We’re both really busy with work. We’re both really busy with the kids.”

Sharon’s weekly weekend crisis finally blew up after her daughter’s season-ending softball game. William was in charge of the team party, but Sharon couldn’t let go—instead of letting him just order pizzas, she decorated the whole backyard, put flowers on the picnic table, made Rice Krispies treats, and sliced and diced fruits and vegetables for the parents. While she was doing all this, she told William to clean the playroom in their attic. “No one is going up there!” he said, and she screamed at him, “They might, so do it!”

It’s an impossible situation, because even if the playroom gets cleaned and the snacks get baked, the guests will walk in to see Sharon and William yelling at each other. If that happens, Sharon’s “awkward moment” won’t be running out of pizza; it will be a knockdown marital bout that will keep the team moms gossiping for months.

Catherine would ask, “What room are you in, Sharon?” Her mother might have been a Martha Stewart type—but she didn’t have a job outside the house. That’s a key difference, since Sharon works three days a week in
Philly at an art gallery. She remembers that there were always healthy homemade treats in the kitchen when she was growing up, and she wants that for her children too, but at what cost? She clearly can’t have every moment be that perfect family scene she fantasizes about and remembers (inaccurately, as it turns out) from her childhood.

Sharon knows she is expecting too much of herself and her family but can’t help herself. The next time she sees her mother, she says, “Mom, I don’t know how you did it!” Her mother smiles and says, “Honey, ‘it’ is a figment of your imagination!

“Your upbringing was far from perfect,” Mom says. “Your dad and I fought all the time, mostly because I thought he drank too much. I once threw a plate of hors d’oeuvres at him at a cocktail party. You had a happy childhood, but it was far from something out of a magazine. We weren’t perfect. No one is!”

That news was life changing for Sharon, who now tries to remember that her mental snapshot from childhood isn’t the one her mother sees. Catherine says this is a classic case of screen memories messing you up, since your childhood imagery is never accurate. Sharon is looking through scrapbooks, seeing only the idyllic moments of parties perfectly executed and her mother dressed in Jackie Kennedy–type shift dresses, but what she doesn’t realize is that it looked like that only while the picture was being taken. Beforehand the wet dog was rushing about, shaking pool water on all the food, and after that picture was snapped, the men drank too much and burned the steaks. But the fun was real and what matters most isn’t a clean playroom but a bonded couple, so Sharon and William should agree that chaos will prevail and go with it. Her standards and expectations have to come down.

Sharon needs to remember that it’s not either/or…it’s both/and. Life is rarely perfect…or a disaster. It’s a mixed bag—you can have fun at your softball team party, even if the dog snatches a pizza and drags it around the yard, your cupcakes are burnt, your youngest daughter spills ketchup all over her new white shirt, and the playroom has been declared a toxic waste site. The both/and also applies to Sharon’s childhood—there were highs (she only has great memories of her dad) and lows (those flying
hors d’oeuvres).

So it’s back to the kitchen table for Sharon and William. They sit down and talk. She tells him about her (imperfect) childhood memories and her new understanding, and they realize that at least during their softball party fight she didn’t throw anything at him! They agree that they can’t wait to have a nice, relaxed weekend. Next Saturday.

Here’s how to think about weekend life: Chaos can be fun, if you go with the flow. Stop controlling, start connecting.

Lorraine is a young fifty-nine and works as the office manager of a doctor’s office. She has been single for four years, since her divorce. Her two grown children are married, and both live in nearby cities.

She says these last four years have been the happiest time of her life and readily admits that she stayed too long in her marriage. “Maybe fifteen years too long. But the kids were young, and I felt financially dependent, so I made the best of it. And now that I am living a solo life, I realize that I am happy and not interested in going back to being someone’s wife.”

Looking back, she says the divorce was rough, but she is happy she got through it. “If I’d known I would feel like this, I would have done it sooner!” But the best news for her was that her kids supported her all the way. “I’m a pleaser and a caretaker and it’s most important to me that my children and my then husband were comfortable and cared for. How I was feeling didn’t matter so much. When I was in that marriage, I wasn’t de
pressed, but I now know that I wasn’t happy either.”

At some point during her marriage she finally realized her husband was an alcoholic and she was an enabler. Couples can survive that, of course, but for Lorraine, the biggest problem was the backseat position she took in her life. It wasn’t until after her kids finished high school and went off to college that she decided to finally get a divorce. Making a new life as a single, older woman wasn’t easy at first, and she felt lonely. But once she “cleaned house” (literally, in this case, hauling all her ex’s stuff to the dump), she started feeling better. She got into a nice routine: early-morning yoga, work, and laps in her gym’s pool three days a week after work. “It was so odd at first to not have to rush home and make my husband dinner. I’ve started cooking and eating so differently now that I’m on my own, and I’ve lost ten pounds!”

About a year ago, Lorraine met a sweet, smart man who, unlike her ex-husband, doesn’t drink. “I feel really fortunate to have met such a wonderful guy at this point in my life, but part of me is lamenting my loss of freedom. I mean, he’s not asking me to cook him dinner, but last week he needed a place to put his file cabinet—his son lives in their family home and is running his own small business from the house—and it ‘magically’ appeared in my garage! He didn’t exactly ask, and I didn’t exactly say no either. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I
don’t
want him living with me. So the dilemma is: What if I put my foot down and I ruin a great thing?”