The answer can come in a lot of ways. I’ve been happy now for, oh I don’t know, 8 years? And I’m 68 so that’s many years of anger. My being angry was responsible in large part for the failure of my first marriage and for problems on my job, which I loved, but was in danger of fucking up by giving way to anger. Then I got a new supervisor who called me into his office and said that it was unacceptable, and finished by saying, “You’re an engineer, and a damn good one — fix it!”
Something about having your job on the line can focus your attention, especially if it’s one you really do care about and value. Over the years since the days of my divorce I’d gotten better about it, but there was still a ways to go. I “fixed it” on the job, and in my next review my boss acknowledged this. Not only did my work, which I already found interesting and challenging, become easier and more fun, but I extended the practice to the rest of my life and in time went to the mirror and said, “Holy shit — you’re happy!”
