Honoré de Balzac’s novel Eugénie Grandet seems to imply that, contrary to popular belief, money can buy happiness!

One of the main characters in the novel, Monsieur Grandet, glows with happiness upon learning of the multiplication of his funds, and when beholding his piles of gold. He even, upon receiving especially good news concerning his accounts, literally sings and dances.

But the novel also implies that an increase in money does not cause an increase in happiness for everyone, just for those rare people who are true misers. Monsieur Grandet’s wife and daughter do not experience greater happiness from the acquisition of money. In fact, as the reader is surprised to learn, they don’t even know how much they are financially worth, or that their fortune dwarfs the net worth of many of their neighbors combined!

The tragedy of this scenario is that Eugénie and her mother, not comprehending that they are multimillionaires, also do not comprehend the true nature of their “friendships.” Money-hungry men and their money-hungry relatives come regularly to the Grandet house to court Eugénie. Poor Madame and Mademoiselle Grandet think that these people like them for themselves, not for their money.

At the point that the reader learns of this wretched situation, Balzac tosses in the following aphorism:

“How horrible is man’s condition! He does not own one happiness whose source does not lie in ignorance of some kind.”

It’s a Balzacian aphorism; but is it true? I would like to debate this question with you. I would argue that Monsieur Grandet’s joy in acquiring money would be significantly lower if he were not so ignorant about its detrimental effects on his family, as well as on himself. Further, his wife and daughter would surely have been horrified to learn that the people praising them did not genuinely like them.

On the other hand, ignorance can lead to misery over the long term, as is evident by witnessing these characters’ deteriorating lives as the years pass. Thus, learning key facts about the world, and acting accordingly, can save one from sorrow. It can also bring one a quiet contentment that, while perhaps of a different nature than the bliss of ignorance, is still a form of happiness.

What do you think: is ignorance necessary for happiness?

One of the great things about the book The Body Keeps the Score, by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D., is that it is written for laypeople and practitioners alike. No matter whether you’re the one lying on the couch, so to speak, or the one with the credentials, the book contains massive amounts of research-based insights.

One point that Dr. van der Kolk makes over and over is that not every strategy works for every patient. The key, whether you are the person in search of healing or the therapist, is to find the strategies that work, and move forward with those. That sounds like wisdom to me! That being said, the doctor explains that an overriding principle applies when people seek to recover from trauma:

“Trauma robs you of the feeling that you are in charge of yourself, of what I will call self-leadership in the chapters to come. The challenge of recovery is to reestablish ownership of your body and your mind—of your self.”

This passage occurs on the first page of the last section of the book, “Paths to Recovery,” which takes up nearly half its pages. In this section, Dr. van der Kolk offers information on a variety of ways that people can move toward self-leadership. These strategies are as diverse as the people they help. Some require a group of people, some require one-on-one sessions, and some require the seeker of relief to be alone. Some require help from a trained professional (in psychology, yoga, theater, choir, or another area), and some require merely a willingness on the part of the seeker of relief to try something new.

Dr. van der Kolk further refines what it means to develop self-leadership. Here is his explanation of what self-leadership entails, no matter which strategies one uses:

“For most people this involves (1) finding a way to become calm and focused, (2) learning to maintain that calm in response to images, thoughts, sounds, or physical sensations that remind you of the past, (3) finding a way to be fully alive in the present and engaged with the people around you, (4) not having to keep secrets from yourself, including secrets about the ways that you have managed to survive.”

All four of these involve taking control over one’s life. Learning to be and remain calm is the same thing as learning to control one’s response to emotions. Learning to stay in the present (and not the past) is the same thing as learning to control one’s experiences. Engaging with other people is the same thing as taking control over one’s ability to receive something essential to all people: human companionship and love. And being honest with oneself is an essential first step in taking control over one’s life—as opposed to letting one’s fears control it.

In writing this post, I suddenly remembered a short story I read in college, “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. At the time, I did not understand why my professor thought the story was so great. I reread it just now, and wow—do I understand now. (Oh, the things I wish I had picked up on at a younger age!)

“The Yellow Wallpaper” is about a woman experiencing “nervous depression.” Her husband and her brother, both physicians, insist that the cure is for her to do as little as possible. She must not do anything she loves, such as writing or visiting with loved ones! No, she must stay isolated at home, mainly in bed, until she recovers. The poor narrator trusts these authoritative men more than she trusts her own intuition. Things do not, needless to say, end well.

If you are hoping to recover from trauma, the last thing you need is for someone to further restrict your agency. And note that Dr. van der Kolk mentions both writing and loving human contact as strategies for developing self-leadership. But also note: the answer is not to stop listening to the advice of loved ones and professionals. Rather, it is to listen to them with a grain of salt. If your gut tells you a recommendation is a bad idea . . . it probably is. Even if the person giving you the recommendation is a doctor, your husband, or both.

Who’s in charge of your life?

Have you ever lived in a home with a fire alarm that was too sensitive?

It creates quite the scene! You’re innocently boiling water on the stovetop, when the merest thread of smoke happens to emanate from the burner. You don’t notice it. You can’t see it. You can’t smell it. Your husband across the room can’t smell it. Not even your dog can smell it.

And then—BLEEEET!!!! Ouch, your ears hurt! and you can’t think and you and your husband are crashing into each other as you lunge for the same towel and the dog is barking and howling and you try to fan the alarm, but it’s too high up and you realize you need to grab a chair and stand on it and meanwhile your ears, ouch! and you finally get the chair in place and stand on it and fan the darn thing, and it stops blaring. Whew! You decide to take out the battery, because this happened three times this week, and you put the chair away. But then you think, “What if there’s a real fire?” So you put the chair back and put the battery back in, and the darn thing starts blaring again because the water is now boiling over the sides of the pot and creating another minuscule emission of smoke so you fan it off again. You shut off the burner, and meanwhile it fails to occur to either you or your husband to notify the landlord, partly because the landlord is annoying to deal with, but mostly because you’re in your 20s . . . which is an excellent excuse for all kinds of mistakes!

I read the most amazing and scholarly and mind-blowing book recently. In it, the author compares a certain structure within the brain—the amygdala—to a smoke detector. This alarm system warns the body of danger and triggers a quick response. Trauma, according to the author, can cause the body’s smoke detector to become too sensitive. This creates an internal state as chaotic as the scene described above.

The Body Keeps the Score, by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D., is one of the best books I have read in the past year. It’s long, but every page is a gem.

The book means a lot to me personally. Trauma can arise in different ways; fighting in a war and being raised by a psychopath are only two of many possible causes. I feel confident in saying that I have experienced trauma. I also feel confident in saying that navigating the U.S. health care system to find the help I needed was a disheartening—and traumatic—experience in itself. That’s why passages from the book like this one mean so much to me:

“Psychologists usually try to help people use insight and understanding to manage their behavior. However, neuroscience research shows that very few psychological problems are the result of defects in understanding; most originate in pressures from deeper regions in the brain that drive our perception and attention. When the alarm bell of the emotional brain keeps signaling that you are in danger, no amount of insight will silence it.”

I tried so hard to heal myself through rational thinking! And others tried so hard to heal me by encouraging me to think rationally! But this failed. Using the logical, conscious part of the brain to try to heal trauma is like waving a towel at an overly sensitive fire alarm. Sure, it works . . . but only if you attend to it continuously and avoid doing anything else in life, for fear the alarm starts blaring again.

When I was in the thick of my struggles, each of these helped me significantly more than talk therapy:

• Yoga
• Neurofeedback and learning to meditate
• Unconditional support from loved ones and professionals, especially those who were empathetic listeners and who urged me to contact them anytime
• Joining a choir
• Attending spiritual services, as well as personal spirituality and prayer
• Medication

Most of these aren’t considered mainstream medical services in the U.S. Thus, most are not covered by health insurance. But as I read The Body Keeps the Score, I was astonished to see every one of these strategies pop up as effective and recommended treatments for trauma. Dr. van der Kolk devotes an entire chapter to yoga, for example, and another to rhythms and theater (which includes a discussion of singing and ceremony). As it turns out, the strategies I gravitated toward in my search for healing, some of which are classified as “alternative medicine”—a term often used pejoratively—are supported by research conducted by leading medical specialists. And yet the U.S. health care system has a long way to go in incorporating this research into practice.

Note that none of the strategies on the list involve rational thought. In metaphorical terms, none of them affect one’s ability to wave a towel. Instead, the strategies work by accessing and repairing (or, in the case of medication, artificially rigging) the smoke alarm itself.

How do you access the unconscious areas of your brain?

It has happened every time. While each of Brené Brown’s books builds upon her earlier ones, and much information is repeated, each successive volume has brought me a great new gift. Each has brought me old gifts: reminders of the secrets I learned previously and perhaps lost sight of, or left unintegrated into my current life. And they bring me new gifts: truths I had not realized before, about human nature and about myself.

I would like to share the best new gift I received from reading Brown’s most recent book, Dare to Lead. It’s a research-based lesson about values, including instructions on figuring out what your own values are. Here’s some information that Brown shares about values:

“We have only one set of values. We don’t shift our values based on context. . . . The research participants who demonstrated the most willingness to rumble with vulnerability and practice courage tethered their behavior to one or two values, not ten.”*

One or two?! That’s not very many. Can you name your one or two core values, off the top of your head? I couldn’t. Sure, I could come up with ten or twenty values that I hold dear; but I had no idea which one or two of them I prioritized—or should prioritize, if I want to stay true to myself.

So Brown’s next move was helpful for me. She provides a list of dozens of values and encourages the reader to circle those to which he or she feels a particularly strong personal connection. I circled 17 of them. Then, she says, force yourself to select the one or two of these that are most essential to who you are. To my surprise, I immediately knew which two they were. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be. Brown has posted her list of values online here. I invite you to take these steps for yourself, right now, before reading the rest of this blog post. (She welcomes you to write in your own values if you think of some you like better than the ones listed.)

Did you do it? Did you learn something about yourself? Here’s what Brown says she learned about herself upon doing the exercise (she always does what she asks her readers to do):

“My two central values are faith and courage. I hated not circling ‘family.’ But as I dug in, I realized that while my family is the most important thing in my life, my commitment to them is fueled by my faith and courage.”

Something similar happened to me. My two core values are truth and wisdom. I hated not circling “creativity.” But I realized that, for me, being creative is not an end in itself. I don’t engage in creative writing for its own sake, but in the service of truth and wisdom. (Another creative writer might feel differently about this, and that’s okay!) I also hated not circling “curiosity”—but again, my curiosity is due to my search for truth and wisdom, not the other way around.

It was also a profound experience to think about the difference between truth and wisdom. I truly could not choose one or the other of these values; for me, they are intertwined like yin and yang. Seeking the truth can be a lonely—even toxic—endeavor, if not tempered by wisdom. And seeking wisdom can lead one astray, if not tempered by truth. Truth is facts; wisdom is knowing how to act in light of those facts.

At this point in Dare to Lead, Brown provides further information about values, as well as more exercises for the reader to do. Her goal is to help the reader not only identify his or her one or two core values, but also act in ways that are consistent with those values. I found all of this immensely useful, as well: do check it out if you get a chance.

What are your one or two core values? Tell me which ones you selected, if you feel comfortable sharing them. I’m so curious to know which ones you chose!

*Rumble with vulnerability is Brené Brown-speak for having hard conversations in which you put yourself out there and express yourself honestly, while being openhearted and generous with your interlocutor(s).

It’s always interesting when you read something that corresponds so germanely to something that is happening in real life. I was recently talking to a wise friend of mine, who pointed out that every family has issues—even, or especially, the ones that seem perfect. No one should feel that their family is exceptionally messed up in comparison with other families, my friend said, because we all struggle. We may struggle in very different ways, but we all struggle.

Not long after having this conversation, I read this passage in the book Almost Everything by Anne Lamott:

“Almost everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy, scared, and yet designed for joy. Even (or especially) people who seem to have it more or less together are more like the rest of us than you would believe.”

All of this reminds me of Tolstoy’s maxim about happy and unhappy families. It’s true that, sometimes, everything falls into place and life rides along nicely. But this is very rare. It’s counterproductive, not to mention false, to assume that you are the exception if you or your family is going through a tough time. In reality, the exception that proves the rule is those few people and families who are right now, somehow, miraculously, doing well in every way.

In every way? That’s a heck of a lot of ways! Perfectionism highlights weaknesses while downplaying strengths, no matter how many strengths there are. So instead of counting up failings, let’s count up successes. Let’s count up the things we are doing well with right now—surely there are many, many things!—and be glad about those. If you need to wait for perfection in order to be happy . . . well, that could be a long, long wait.

Plus, you’ll have lots of company, here in the imperfection ring.

What are you and your family joyful about today?