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There's a certain kind of person — usually someone who grew up in the 1960s or 70s — who gets up early on a Saturday without an alarm, just decades of muscle memory doing its thing.
For about thirteen years, I treated happiness like a project. Something to research, optimize, and eventually achieve. I read the books. I tried the practices. I moved countries, changed careers, built a business, found a partner. Each of these things was, on some level, an attempt to arrive at a place where I could finally … Read more
Most people think the problem with boomer advice is quality.
Here's a thing I've been turning over: impatience isn't a personality flaw anymore.
Here's a pattern that kept showing up across decades of research, no matter who ran the numbers or where they looked: happiness follows a U-shaped curve.
Nobody wakes up on a cold morning, alarm screaming, and thinks: yes, this is exactly the moment I've been waiting for.
There's a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying things you were never meant to hold forever.
The dishes are done, the house is quiet, and I've mastered every responsibility of adult life so perfectly that I've become a ghost haunting my own existence.
There's a finding from Harvard that stopped me when I first came across it.
You walk into a room late.
After years of seamlessly morphing into whoever each room needed me to be, I realized I could no longer distinguish between my genuine interests and the preferences I'd absorbed from others like a human sponge.
When people talk about a loneliness epidemic, they almost always mean young people.
