Restless and not enough

A story is told about a person who was congratulated on the big promotion he landed just the week before. He thanks the well-wisher warmly and then, with real worry in his eyes, asks when he might expect the next one.

The ink on the first promotion has not even dried.

It is easy to laugh at that. But most of us have felt the very same thing. You chase something for years, and when at last it arrives, what shows up is not joy. It is a strange flatness — and a quiet voice already whispering, “Well, what comes next?”

There seems to be a term that describes this kind of sentiment: restless.

Psychotherapist Kristen Mosier, the author of a new book bearing the same title, says anyone who is ambitious should be brought to a halt by the fact that those people who work the hardest and achieve the most are usually the least satisfied.
The same characteristics which have made you successful — your ambition, your high standards and your refusal to accept a compromise — are the same ones that gradually take away the pleasure which your success should have given you.

Mosier identifies three offenders.

The first involves acting in the way psychologist Barry Schwartz famously described as being a maximizer. A maximizer seeks the single best available option; he examines all the possible choices, becomes extremely troubled in his mind, makes a decision and then, in a magnificent manner, reconsiders the decision he has just come to.

For the maximizer, the best thing is always just out of reach; there will always be a route not chosen, a deal not finalized and a version of the story that could have been better.

“If only.”

Those two words are the most sorrowful in any language, and the maximizer repeats them continuously.

Mosier’s advice in this case is both simple and sound: go back to your values and consider whether a particular choice matches the kind of person you really want to be, not just what appears impressive. Once you know what is important to you, it becomes far easier to let a flashy distraction go by.

The second cause is comparison.

She refers to a concept from the 1940s known as relative deprivation, which means misery doesn’t arise from a lack of something, but from seeing someone else get more of it.

On Monday, your salary was all right. But on Tuesday, when your office colleague received a raise, your once-satisfactory salary suddenly seemed like an insult.

The situation in your life remained exactly the same; it was just the person beside you who was different.

We know this area well and have built an industry around it that operates around the clock through our phones. If you keep scrolling for a long time, all the people seem richer, thinner, more pious and located on a better beach than you.

It has been said that comparison is the thief of joy; social media has employed that thief and given it unlimited data.

The third is the trickiest.

Scientists once tied dopamine, the “feel-good” chemical, to pleasure. But research suggests it’s about wanting, not liking. That’s why chasing a goal feels alive, while reaching it can feel strangely flat.

“The hunt is better than the kill,” “The journey beats the destination,” “The grass is always greener,” “Be careful what you wish for,” and other proverbs reflect the same sentiment.

You were built to want, and no one warned you that getting it could feel so quiet.

This is not new.

Three thousand years ago, the wealthiest, most intelligent and accomplished man of his time tried to allay his restlessness by obtaining everything a human being could obtain: houses, gardens, gold, fame, pleasure and the works.

The man’s name was Solomon, and his conclusion is given in the book of Ecclesiastes: “Meaningless! A chasing after the wind.”

Then you turn to Paul the apostle in a prison cell, who came to the contrary conclusion and said, “I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.”

Look at the verb he uses: learned.

Contentment did not come over him; instead, he examined it, just as the rest of us learn ambition.

Contentment does not mean the end of desire; rather, it means the development of desire. It is not necessary to suppress your ambition, but rather to prevent it from controlling the vehicle while you remain terrified and seated in the back seat.

And when that little voice asks you, “What’s next?” respond by putting forward another question:
“What is already present that I have been so busy I have failed to appreciate?”

For the entrepreneur, the executive and the tired overachiever who is reading this as he or she heads off to the next meeting: You have spent many years learning how to want.
It is finally time to learn how to arrive.

Join Francis Kong for The Winning Edge, a one-day seminar-workshop on Oct. 21, designed for emerging leaders, high-potential professionals, direct reports, next-generation executives and young family members being prepared to take over the business. A practical and inspiring learning experience focused on personal growth, leadership readiness, confidence, discipline and the mindset needed for the next level. For inquiries and registration, contact April at +63 928 559 1798 or Sylene at +63 976 638 8974.