Parent hacks for finding joy

Photo of Anchel Krishna and her daughter Syona

It's Mental Health Week, so BLOOM asked parent readers to send us their strategies for finding joy and emotional resilience in the midst of lives that can have extra uncertainties and stress. The ideas and answers flooded in, and are pasted below. We hope you find inspiration in them and consider trying something new yourself. Also, feel free to post your own ideas in the comments.

What strategy do use to protect your mental health?

I paint. Oil painting. I get to control the paint or just see how it ends up. I do calming landscapes. HUGE stress reliever.

I try to have as much shared joy with our son as possible so I see how happy he is, and that improves my mental health.

So many flood my mind: breathing to slow my breath and body response, so I can think clearly. Celebrating the moments we gained vs. worrying about what's been lost. Resting into the present moment as it is, accepting it as it is, holding faith that there will be a next moment blessed.

I crochet but most importantly I talk when I need to. I don’t pretend I’m fine when I’m not, because it doesn’t do any of us good. I take meds when talking doesn’t work. I am honest and upfront about how important it is for me to be okay, as well as my husband and my child. We now are a well-oiled machine but we still need tune-ups every once in a while.

I really like to read a good fiction book (mostly mysteries) and also have recently gotten back to cross-stitching after many years away from it. I’m old school and read physical books. My son, who has retinitis pigmentosa and other issues that make it difficult for him to read, loves the reader we have installed on the iPad so I might have to try it myself!

Forcing myself to get out of the house, especially to meet up with someone. Socializing with other parents in similar situations has been invaluable.

I have decided to love and care for my son as he is, knowing and accepting the fact that I cannot heal or change anything about him. This has really helped me a lot to overcome my pain and be focused.

I do something physical every morning. I walk with a friend three times a week and do boot camp three times a week. Both activities are with other people and I find the social aspect really nourishing. It helps me recalibrate. I also try to meditate daily. Silence really is golden!

Started a weight-training class three weeks ago and got a Fitbit. Trying to make healthier choices. Hopeful that being more physically fit will help my mental health too. Being a parent to a special-needs child can be all-consuming. After nine years of this, trying to carve some time out for myself.

Going for a run with the music loud enough to keep my brain empty.

Gratitude and strengths journal to counter the deficit mentality.

Yoga at lunch three to five days a week. It has helped me achieve stillness in my mind, strength in my body, and the openness to connect to those I had closed out while trying to be strong. A profound change over the past year for me.
Walk the dog at least one time a day.

Try to stay in the moment. Create memories. Do not spend your energy worrying about a negative future event that may never happen. You can plan for a thousand different outcomes, but generally this journey will take you to someplace that you had never planned on going.

We’ve used nidra yoga with families in the past, which is one of the most relaxing forms of the practice. Very effective. Parents said they felt the effects for days after.

When I take a break, I keep my mind conscious. I can't do anything about today, yesterday or tomorrow. It is going to be what it is. In that conscious mind...I dance!

Exercise every day (even if it’s 10 minutes). I took up Ukulele!!! And I participate in a “glee” competition (which just ended) every January to May for children’s charity. I make sure I have something that’s for me and scheduled, so I have to go.

I take photos of the water. I go down to Cherry Beach and find a rock I can sit on, right up against the water. The water lapping on the rocks—or making squeeking sounds when there is ice—drains my mind. I look through the viewfinder and wait, patiently, for unusual ways the water moves and patterns of light, as well as reflections in the water of the blue sky or trees. My breathing slows. I feel like I’m at a cottage. I purchased a year’s subscription to Photoshop so when I get home I can make some basic enhancements to my photos. Even the process of going through the photos and choosing the ones I like feels creative. I also make them into cards and calendars.

Playing squash, biking (sports in general, for me, keep me sane).

Giving back has been my saving grace when I'm feeling down.

Each year I make a virtual joy jar, writing down beautiful memories as they occur in my cell phone. I review my memories when I have had a rough day for a mood boost. This activity helps me keep perspective and celebrate the incredible beauty I've known in my life.

I garden. It’s my zen time. It allows me to slow down, breathe, tend to seeds and small plants in the winter. In the spring and summer it gets me outside in the sun, being physical and ripping the rewards of good food which I then preserve, freeze, cook and eat!!! I also try learning something new. This year chickens. Facebook groups like this one REALLY help with mental health and establishing community!

I embrace my faith and pray a lot. This helps me to focus every morning when I wake up, and certainly carries me throughout the day. Also, I have a few close family members and friends that I speak with on a daily basis who encourage and support me. I find this very crucial as most parents on this journey find it lonely. I was really in that place until I accepted the support of these people and opened the door for them in my life.

Bird-watching.

Adult colouring is calm and meditative.

Mindfulness.

Write. Cook. Hobbies. Make dates with friends. Connect. Take at least half an hour every day to sit still. Breathe. Take it one step at a time. Stay focused on the present.

I walk.

Bought a quad. I write too!

I joined a hiking group last winter and it made a huge difference to my wellbeing, especially dealing with seasonal affective disorder. Also doing yoga and I am starting to get into mindfulness. Volunteering and having a voice is important to me, too, and can be uplifting.

I have dear friends who live in different time zones, so even if my monkey brain or complex care needs loved one is keeping me awake in the middle of the night, I have people who love us that I can talk to if I want. Also, I keep a camera with me all the time so I can capture the precious moments of beauty when they happen, and be conscious about making memories in the sacred and mundane moments of life.

I hide food treats under my bed in a Rubbermaid container and go there when I need a mommy time-out.

Respite is important. I discovered that most parents do not utilize this opportunity, but trust me it helps a lot. On average, I schedule my son once a month to go for the weekend, and this gives a little bit of break for myself, my husband and my other children. I always try to plan something for that time, and if I don't have something planned, I just stay home and relax. Also, I travel out of the country at least once or twice a year for vacation. I am always so rejuvenated when I come back and happy to see my son with a renewed energy. I also try to connect with other parents whenever possible to share our experiences and encourage one another.

Spend 30 minutes each day in nature, or at least looking at it.

Another fun thing is hula hoop classes. I laugh so much. It's east-end Beaches. We have a fabulous instructor.

When I'm approaching mental exhaustion, I permit myself to mentally check out for a bit (on a daily basis) when it's safe to do so (i.e. when someone else is taking care of my daughter), usually in the form of escapism through mindless pursuits, such as watching campy Netflix, listening to the latest U2 album, or on adventurous days, actual exercise (motivated by the promise of really loud karaoke while on the treadmill). If the issue is how to manage anger against whatever the latest injustice is, I write out ragey e-mails (that rarely get sent anywhere), and if it's really bad, I call family or friends and ventilate out loud, to get it all out of my system. Afterwards, I'm good!

I do things that make me feel good... Meditation music, warm bath, long walks, paint night. I spend a short amount of time crocheting (I wish I had more time), massage therapy (hubby has benefits) and my sister listens well when I need to vent. And is always there whether or not she fully gets it. The only way I am able to do any of this is having a very supportive husband. We also want to get respite care. We have had only two days of overnight sleepovers in four years. My daughter is completely dependent—can’t talk walk or eat on her own. Bathroom is hard. I think we're doing this soon. My husband never gets a break other than going to work. I'm a stay-at-home mom.

Working out almost daily and playing with our dogs.

The biggest step we took was accepting that all of our love, patience and structure was not going to “fix” my daughter’s daily meltdowns and outbursts. Accepting that was much more difficult than accepting that she would not walk independently—that I was okay with. We do Botox injections, have tried muscle relaxants and dystonia meds. But it was a big step to maintaining my sanity to get chemical help for her damaged brain when it came to behaviour and emotional control. She has been pushing me further and further in to a hole where I was feeling like I had no control. Meds for her have helped.

I volunteer or colour in colour-by-number books. Sounds funny but sometimes I can't focus enough to pick colours so I do something I like without a lot of brain work. Or talking with other parents.

I try to connect with other parents who share similar experiences. We just 'get it' and it really helps. I feel immediately at home and less like the 'I don't know how you do it' person!

Art as therapy. Hoping to get a keyboard and return to piano. I'm going to buy myself an infrared massager. I speak openly when I feel safe around some friends and family.

I take a sick day when I need it.

I have started taking boot camp classes and started the Couch to 5K program. It has been a great outlet for stress and when I am not active, my mental health definitely suffers. I think it is just the act of doing something to take care of myself that helps to boost my mental health.

I try to live day to day, just doing what needs to be done, and not trying to be perfect. I call in help when I need it, and I allow myself to cry and be cranky if I need to be. Sometimes you just need to put yourself in a time out!

I work and my wife takes care of our daughter all day. One of the biggest things that helps us...is support groups like this one (PAL). Because just reading posts like this one and seeing how relatable it is, we feel like we're not alone in this situation, a lot of people are in very similar circumstances. Thanks for sharing.

Painting and running! Through being creative you can express yourself, get out emotion, memories, thoughts or reflect on something beautiful. Works wonders for post and anxiety. If you create, write and also talk about it with others like a social worker.... Through running I can breathe, focus on goals, let go of stress, and listen to my body. Read about this parent here.

I spend time with my dog and two cats, who are always fully in the present moment and who offer unconditional love!

I attend an art journaling class twice a month.

Gardening. I turned it into a business which built my body strength. Dog walking daily, meditation. Planning a vacation yearly with my husband! Used Holland Bloorview's respite services six times minimum per year. Took all my advocating skills and struggles with this broken health care system and turned it into a more positive way of survival and created a NEW Charity foundation for York Region. HAPPINESS is having funding, overnight respite and yearly holidays. I also have a massage every two weeks to keep me grounded and balanced!

Exercise every single day.

Walking near water, painting, gratitude journaling, meditation, listening to music, reading, working out, talking to friends, sharing meals with others

Jigsaw puzzles and a social life.

I knit or curl up with a paperback novel. Old-fashioned kind. I need a break from electronic screens.

Going for a walk and reading novels.

I do Kristin Neff's five-minute self-compassion break.

I read. Fiction, non-fiction, blogposts (including Bloom of course)... anything. To be honest, I read mostly non-fiction these days so that I can have more meaningful discussion with parents of disabled children who have become close friends in a short period of time

I get into a lot of different forms of art and crafty stuff. Trying to be a better runner, I find it really meditative.

Vigorous exercise!

Walking with headphones on, playing happy, thought-provoking, or relaxing music at a ridiculous (but safe) volume!

I have a group that's specifically for [my daughter's] condition as well. It's my favorite one to read.

Epson salt baths and reggae music have saved my sanity on many days.

I get a last-minute hotel room at www.trivago.ca at a great discount and go for a night—by myself. I close the door and do whatever I want, including ordering food.

Audiobooks on my long commute. Also, I spend time with friends. Sometimes when the schedule is too busy, a phone call with a dear friend helps.

Connecting with my own spiritual practice, whether God or going to church or praying. I do a daily meditation that roots me in where I am. It reminds there's an end to every day. Good days come to an end, and bad days come to an end. I do it before I go to bed. The biggest thing for me is letting go of self judgment. I just do it as a practice. Some days are more meaningful than other days, and that's okay.

Being active. Using my body through the day. I check in with my breathing because I'm a shallow breather and hold my stress. I rely on others as much as I can—whether for practical help to cook me a meal, babysit a kid, pick something up at the store, or to talk. Some of the talking I do with people who are in similar situations. We have a big extended family support system, so I know I'm not alone. I ask for what I need from people.

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What's most important? Intelligence or emotional health?

By Louise Kinross

What factors in childhood predict later satisfaction and happiness in life?

Two articles crossed my desk about studies that come to vastly different conclusions.

The first article is about a study published in 2014 in the Economic Journal by London School of Economics (LSE) researchers. This study finds emotional health in childhood and later is the most important predictor of adult life satisfaction. 

Researchers used data from about 9,000 people born over a three-week period in 1970 and tracked by the British Cohort Survey, which has participants fill out a questionnaire about their lives every five to seven years. 

Emotional health, the LSE researchers found, is more important than education or income to future happiness. Least important, they say, is intellectual performance as a child. 

The second article is a piece I read on Saturday by Globe and Mail columnist Margaret Wente: The explosive science of genetics,

It suggests the exact opposite.

In it, Wente refers to a 2015 study in Molecular Psychiatry from Nature.

"Intelligence (as Dr. Plomin and others wrote in an influential piece in Nature) is 'one of the best predictors of important life outcomes such as education, occupation, mental and physical health and illness and mortality.' 

"Intelligence, one of the most heritable behavioural traits, is also an important factor in class differences," Wente writes. "Intelligent people are healthier, happier and stay married longer. They are also likely to marry each other and produce intelligent children. The implications for inequality and social mobility are significant."

The findings obviously have implications for parents raising children with intellectual disabilities. But I think they also relate in some ways to people living with physical disability. In both instances, people with disabilities tend to rate their quality of life much higher than their families or doctors and researchers do.  

The common view is that disability, of any kind, is a negative.

In NeuroTribes, Steve Silberman's groundbreaking new book on the history and nature of autism, he presents a different view.

He notes that Hans Asperger, one of autism's research pioneers, saw a child's gifts as "inextricable from their impairments." According to Asperger, the "positive and negative qualities" of a child with autism, or any disability, "are two natural, necessary, interconnected aspects of one well-knit, harmonious personality."

This reminded me of a piece by parent and author Rob Rummel-Hudson. 

In it, Rob argues that his daughter's differences are generative. "It changes everything about how she thinks and how she processes the world around her," he writes. "Those different paths are hard for her teachers and friends and even her family to understand, and impossible for us to travel. But they are her paths, and they are beautiful." 

I wrote about it here: Disability doesn't just take, it gives.

I wondered how the 'emotional health' researchers written about above would square their findings with the 'intelligence' scientists, and vice versa. 

So I sent an e-mail to each of the lead researchers.

I'll let you know what I hear.

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Jim and the pursuit of happiness

By Karin Melberg Schwier

We think about my eldest son Jim’s happiness. A lot. What turns, straightaways, twists to take, what unexpected adventures there might be.

I get the same feeling this time of year when we drive out to the Rosthern Youth Farm corn maze on a Sunday afternoon. So much fun and so many possibilities. They give clues and you hunt for prizes.

Sometimes we hit a dead end. You never know what might be around the next corner. One time we even discovered an escaped pot bellied pig! Even so, there’s always the worry. What if we get lost along the way? What if we aren’t doing enough?

Happiness. Sure, I think about our youngest son Ben’s and daughter Erin’s well being, too. They’re all adults. Ben and Erin have their own spouses—Julia and Michael, respectively. Erin and Michael have a nine-year-old. So I think about the in-law kids, and grandson Alexander, too.

Our son Jim has Down syndrome. Helping him discover and nurture those things that will give him a rich batch of fun and adventure falls largely to us.

We take some paths. Many good. Others bottom out. Sometimes we get stuck. So the question of whether or not Jim is enjoying his life has set up full time residence in our heads.

Snuggled right up to that question are many others along the lines of “Are we helping him live a good life? What could we do better?” And every now and then, the old chestnut: “Why do we suck so bad as parents?” That doesn’t happen too often, but a tough one to chew on when it does.

Jim is 41. Green eyes. Killer smile. Blonde hair that now gets buzzed down by Aziz at JR’s Barbershop. Jim likes his hair “prickly.” He’s got a sly, dry sense of humour, but also loves good slapstick.

He used to talk to the point where we’d beg him to give us a break, but as he’s gotten older, he’s become more stoic and quiet. He wears two hearing aids and his right ear is pretty well shot, so speech is difficult. He just won’t if he doesn’t have to, or if he’s not motivated. However, “May I have a glass of chardonnay, please?” seems to come out very clearly at The Yard and Flagon pub.

Jim is a veteran volunteer at the Saskatoon YMCA; he’s been working in the laundry and maintaining the pool deck for 20 years now. It’s his solid base. We help staff tweak Jim’s routine now and then if things get a little stale, or if new staff need a little orientation on how best to work with Jim.

One of his coworkers, Heather, is a faithful advocate, always quick to get in touch when things are going well for Jim and on the days where he’s feeling a bit off. Since Jim was little, he’s always loved basketball (probably a genetic condition due to his birth in Indiana). Heather convinces Jim a few times a week to shoot some hoops with her in the Y gym so they both get a little fun break from the routine.

But while Jim has a solid job, which he looks forward to and enjoys most days, that’s just the baseline. We know it’s up to us to help Jim discover interesting, fun and enriching experiences. The colourful, spicy parts of life. It’s an ongoing pursuit. And that pursuit doesn’t lend itself to nice neatly defined goals.

Jim used to love drumming. When the theme music to Star Trek would come on, he’d leap up, race to his room for his snare drum, roar back to the TV room and pound out the beat. He loved Star Trek, too. These days, not so much. He’ll say, “Did that already” and that heralds the passing of the interest.

At first we fretted about that. But how many of us are still enraptured by the fascinations we had as prepubescents? (Not counting my lifetime commitment to Bobby Sherman, obviously.)

We try to help Jim make his own choices (tough when he’s pretty silent) while encouraging and, yes, sometimes insisting that he try something or participate when we are pretty sure he’ll enjoy it. Pitch in to volunteer at the community garden. Volunteer with us at the Friendship Inn. Usher at church with Dad. Write a “feel better” note to an old family friend in hospital. Let’s try watercolour painting. Ask a friend’s son to play badminton.

Jim’s got a few other things on the go. We travel a lot. When we’re home, Jim has enjoyed a lot of matches made through the University’s Best Buddies chapter; some good, some really great.

For several years, we hired a young man to meet up with Jim two or three times a month to do “guy stuff” like gokarting, shooting pool, going to the pub, trying a new restaurant. Jim helped Ryan out with home projects, volunteer jobs, and a drama group for at-risk adolescents.

Ryan and Jim often took Ryan’s toddler son Jack to the biology museum or for ice cream. But the relationship slowly petered out as Ryan’s own young family grew. We miss that one; Jack always looked forward to seeing “Uncle Jim.” It doesn’t mean it failed, but we have to try another path.

An important piece in this pursuit of happiness is finding other people. While we fret over the new things Jim might find joy in, we remind ourselves to relax and celebrate the good connections he does have.

We’re lucky to be in a position where I work at home so can be the one to take Jim to work, pick him up, go to appointments. Rick recently retired from the University, though he’s still teaching some.

We’re reinventing our roles with Jim. Not everyone can do that. We’re the conductors, but we don’t want to be “everything” in Jim’s orchestra. He needs other people who like him, people he will feel connected to and comfortable with. What we’re really after is to add a few more fun people to his life. It’s the tricky part. And we have to get past the fear of rejection if we ask and someone says no.

Back to that corn maze. If you’ve ever done one, you’ll recognize the journey. I think the trick is to keep looking around the next corner. We expose our children to things we think might spark even a tiny glimmer of interest and see where it goes.

If I can throw in another metaphor, Jim’s life is like a patchwork quilt in progress. A piece of this, a little of that, stitch that together here, this piece works with that but not with this one. We try to set aside the panic and frustration that it’s not all coming together fast (or even slowly!) and just try to enjoy the adventure.

Every couple of months, we email a little update about Jim to Jim’s siblings and nephew in California, and far-flung friends and family all over the world. Collecting a few photos and describing what Jim’s been up lately helps us have a good look at his life on a regular basis. Not only does it maintain Jim’s connection to a wide network of people, as we sort through photos and decide what to send, we’re reminded of what he really enjoys doing, what worked out, what we can build on.

Part of Jim's future happiness depends on what we do now to build those connections for him. There will come a day when one or both of us won't be around. We've written wills, designed a trust, established an RDSP. We've had many wonderful discussions with Jim's brother and sister, who both say they “have Jim's back.” They understand what a good life looks like for Jim and because they're an ongoing part of it (even though they live far away), we hope the transition won't be too gut-wrenching. Different, obviously, but a good life will go on for Jim with Ben, Erin and their families taking over. Their networks of friends know Jim, so those connections have already begun.

 

Sometimes we need to consciously remind ourselves to enjoy each other while all this searching for a good life is going on. We all stop and have a glass of wine on the back deck and play a game of Go Fish together.

Or we light the chimenea and ruin some marshmallows. We laugh. A lot. I probably suck at being Jim’s stepmom a lot of the time. But when he’s making a joke during Go Fish, or gives me a big smooch while my marshmallow goes up in flames, I think he feels his life is pretty okay.

And who knows? The more things we try, the better the chance of having an interesting, joyful life. Maybe we’ll even find another potbellied pig!

Karin Melberg Schwier is the author of several books. Her most recent is Flourish: People with Disabilities Living Life with Passion, available in Holland Bloorview's library. She co-authored Sexuality: Your Sons and Daughters with Intellectual Disabilities with Dave Hingsburger, and it's been translated into German, Italian and Korean. She also co-authored Breaking Bread, Nourishing Connections: Mealtimes for People with and without Disabilities with Erin Schwier Stewart. Click on her byline at the top to visit her website and find out about purchasing the latter two books. Photo by Richard Schwier.
 

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Happiness is parenting a special-needs child

By Val Lusted

I never thought I’d be writing my very first blog with this title!

However, when 2015 appeared on the horizon, I decided to start journaling on the concept of “happiness.” I used the 22 lessons from a film I’d seen called Hector and the Search for Happiness as my template, noting when I felt happy. Simple right?

It’s eight months into my New Year’s resolution now and as I look back I find it
interesting that most entries relate to my role as a mom to Evan, 15. My husband Rick and I adopted Evan from the Republic of Georgia when he was five months old.

We were about two years into our journey as a family when we started down a scary, unknown path of diagnoses for Evan. A path which would deeply influence the way I view the world and my role as a parent.

Evan was born with complex neurological issues that resulted in an array of diagnoses including microcephaly, ADHD, learning disabilities, hearing loss, significant oral-motor and speech and language articulation challenges. Most recently he is showing signs of social anxiety.

All of these challenges will impact Evan’s future and ours.

But back to my “happiness” journaling. Here are a few excerpts.

Lesson 2: Happiness often comes when least expected

“…the look of shocked surprise on Evan’s face, followed by a smile, as he watched the puck enter the net to provide the Hawks with the winning goal against North Toronto. His gaze followed the puck, then scanned the nearby crowd of fans until he found my eyes. Looking at him and smiling back, ear to ear.

That evening game, the win, the goal, the resulting burst of confidence, seeing my son fully engaged in the play—it had followed an equally blessed and unexpected social invitation earlier in the day. Evan had been invited to join some of his teammates at an Air Canada Centre Juniors hockey game. The boys had travelled together via subway to the arena. Evan had been afraid to go, fearing another anxiety episode might erupt. But Rick and I had talked him through it: offering the usual reassurances, rehearsals and a review of his other anxiety-management strategies.

We asked him if he trusted us (and his teammates) that there was no way he was being set up for failure. He acknowledged how important it was to continue to face his fears.

Evan had gone. He’d had fun. He’d survived. He’d felt like he belonged that day.

Today has been a good day. And that has made me feel happy.”

Or

Lesson 16: Happiness is knowing how to celebrate

“…On the way home, I reflected on the session [with Evan’s psychologist] and noticed how my body, my shoulders, felt lighter. I felt like I had just met a new ally. I felt hopeful. I remembered the text I’d received earlier in the day, along with a voicemail message from Evan. He’d gotten 75 per cent on his music test. Yup. Time to celebrate. I bought a dozen doughnuts to share with my family.”

And

Lesson 14: Happiness is to be loved for exactly who you are

“...I had the good fortune to spend five whole days with Evan, away from work, household chores and other day-to-day stressors. We shared the time with extended family members at my sister’s cottage, initially garage sailing, napping, lounging, visiting and eating before a local music festival began on the weekend. Because the main cottage was full of occupants, Evan and I were offered accommodation in The Loft (the teen hangout, above the garage).

I have to tell you…the five day visit was so good for my relationship with Evan. I felt so much more relaxed, I was able to actually have conversations with him. I was able to enjoy his sense of humour! It was such a great bonding experience. I felt so blessed that he didn’t seem to mind spending time with me, his middle-aged mom!

How many moms of teenagers have that gift?

At the festival or at the cottage, he’d go off to spend some time alone or to explore some of the vendors. These are moments which I think nurture his sense of independence and 'typical teen time.'

Next year, Evan is even hoping to invite a hockey teammate to stay in The Loft with him, instead of me. Now that would be a wonderful gift sure to enrich my sense of happiness.”

Try googling “happiness is parenting a special needs child.” You’ll find lots of like-minded people to motivate you to continue on your journey. The BLOOM blog and other online resources are equally inviting and inspirational.

Tonight, I am practising gratitude for all of the gifts Evan continues to give to me.

I will continue to journal what makes me happy, using the 22 lessons as my trusty template of positivity, even though I know there will be tougher times ahead.

Val Lusted is a social worker in the Specialized Orthopedic and Developmental Rehab Unit at Holland Bloorview Kids Rehabilitation Hospital.

 
































Words of Wisdom from Hector and the Search for Happiness

Lesson 1: Making comparisons can spoil your happiness.

Lesson 2: Happiness often comes when least expected.

Lesson 3: Many people only see happiness in their future.

Lesson 4: Many people think that happiness comes from having more power or more money.

Lesson 5: Sometimes happiness is not knowing the whole story.

Lesson 6: Happiness is a long walk in beautiful, unfamiliar mountains.

Lesson 7: It’s a mistake to think that happiness is the goal.

Lesson 8: Happiness is being with the people you love.

Lesson 8b: Unhappiness is being separated from the people you love.

Lesson 9: Happiness is knowing your family lacks for nothing.

Lesson 10: Happiness is doing a job you love.

Lesson 11: Happiness is having a home and a garden of your own.

Lesson 12: It’s harder to be happy in a country run by bad people.

Lesson 13: Happiness is feeling useful to others.

Lesson 14: Happiness is to be loved for exactly who you are.

Lesson 15: Happiness comes when you feel truly alive.

Lesson 16: Happiness is knowing how to celebrate.

Lesson 17: Happiness is caring about the happiness of those you love.

Lesson 18: The sun and the sea make everybody happy.

Lesson 19: Happiness is a certain way of seeing things.

Lesson 20: Rivalry poisons happiness.

Lesson 21: Women care more than men about making others happy.

Lesson 22: Happiness means making sure that those around you are happy. 

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What does IQ have to do with happiness?

By Louise Kinross 

I’m a little stumped.

I read this piece called Genetic screening to enhance IQ should be embraced in The Conversation. In it, an ethicist argues we should test embryos for gene changes associated with low intelligence (70-85) and discard them because of “the bad things” low IQ portends: poor job opportunities, low income, increased risk of poverty and welfare dependency, greater likelihood to drop out of school and increased chance of incarceration and being murdered (quite a mouthful).

This 2013 Psychological Medicine study seems to support the association between low intelligence and less happiness. Of almost 7,000 people, those in the lowest IQ range (70-99) reported the lowest levels of happiness compared with those in the highest IQ group (120-129). When asked to rate their level of happiness, 12 per cent in the lowest group said “not too happy” (that doesn’t strike me as a huge number. I don’t have the full study to look at what portion of the high IQ group said they were “not too happy.”)

However, the study authors suggest that it's not the degree of intelligence per se that leads to happiness, but the fact that people with higher IQs have better incomes and health and less mental illness.

But isn't stigma one of the main reasons that marginalized groups make less money, have poorer health and experience more anxiety and depression (I'm thinking historically of women, minorities and people with a range of disabilities)? What role does discrimination have to play in these outcomes?

Remember the 2012 French study that showed that even adults who outwardly say they accept kids with disabilities carry a negative bias against children with Down syndrome at an automatic, unconscious level (deduced through implicit-association testing)? In other words, they react to people with Down syndrome based on a negative stereotype they may not even know they have. “These implicit associations are the result of social values...carried by our culture,” says the lead researcher Claire Enea-Drapeau, a school psychologist in Marseille, France. “They are likely deeply embedded and difficult to break.”

However, in spite of the pervasiveness of automatic bias against kids with Down syndrome, this 2011 American Journal of Medical Genetics study found that nearly 99 per cent of 300 people aged 12 and over with Down syndrome say they are happy with their lives; 97 per cent like who they are; and 96 per cent like how they look. 

How does this finding fit with the Psychological Medicine research above?

Further, would we ever expect people in the general population to say they were almost 100 per cent happy and okay with themselves? The AJMG study seems to fly in the face of this statement from our ethicist above: “It is pretty clear that low-normal levels of cognitive function tend to reduce well-being.”

Then I googled IQ and depression and found this article about how the rate of suicide in undergrads at Harvard over a recent five-year period was two times the national average for college students. Wouldn't Harvard students be among some of the brightest? And, according to the earlier research, happiest?

I remembered this BLOOM interview we did with Holland Bloorview neurologist and autism expert Evdokia Anagnostou about how high IQ doesn’t predict happiness in people with autism. In fact, there's a high rate of anxiety and depression in youth and young adults with higher-functioning autism.

I felt like I was being buffeted back and forth between arguments suggesting that happiness was dependent on high intelligence and those suggesting it was independent of it.

And I started to think about how perhaps we were looking at this in a simplistic way. I was reminded of Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert’s Stumbling on Happiness—a book that looked at common blind spots in how we imagine the future. These include a lack of empathy that allows us to imagine an experience different than our own and a tendency to overestimate the negative impact of an event and underestimate our resilience.

Gilbert said this helps explain a study that showed sighted people will pay more to avoid going blind than blind people will pay to regain their sight. It also explains why most people assume they couldn’t be paralyzed and happy, even though surveys of people with quadriplegia show the opposite (in fact, sometimes they rate their quality of life as better post injury).
I wondered how much resilience on the part of children with low intelligence and their families might ameliorate some of the supposed negative impacts.

During this time I read A Healing Family, a memoir by Japanese Nobel Prize winner Kenzaburo Oe, about raising a son who was born with brain damage. In it, Oe keeps coming back to the fact that despite the challenges, having a son with intellectual disability came to define his worldview and enabled his family to adapt in ways that readied them for other challenges.

“Twenty-five years ago, my first son [Hikari] was born with brain damage. This was a blow, to say the least; and yet, as a writer, I must acknowledge the fact that the central theme of my work, throughout much of my career, has been the way my family has managed to live with this handicapped child. Indeed, I would have to admit that the very ideas that I hold about this society and the world at large—my thoughts, even, about whatever there might be that transcends our limited reality—are based on and learned through living with him.”

And further on: “On a more personal level, I can imagine a very concrete example of what happens to a society that shuts out its disabled by asking myself how we ourselves—[the Oe family]—would have turned out if we hadn’t made Hikari an indispensable part of our family. I imagine a cheerless house where cold drafts blow through the gaps left by his absence; and, after his exclusion, a family whose bonds grow weaker and weaker. In our case, I know it was only by virtue of having included Hikari in the family that we actually managed to weather our various crises, such as my mother-in-law’s gradual mental decline.”

I guess I'm not sure what I think anymore.

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Taking 'the good' for a spin

I've been reading Hardwiring Happiness, which shows us how we can take in and savour more of the good moments in our lives, retraining our brains which have evolved into a kind of "velcro for the bad," as neuropsychologist Rick Hansen calls it.

“Over the course of evolution, animals that were nervous, driven and clinging were more likely to pass on their genes, and these inclinations are now woven into our DNA," Hansen writes. "Even when you feel relaxed and happy and connected, your brain keeps scanning for potential dangers, disappointments, and interpersonal issues. Then when the least little thing goes wrong or could be trouble, the brain zooms in on it with a kind of tunnel vision...”

Yes, that resonated with me. More often than not I feel a kind of defensive vigilance about my son with disabilities. My mind is usually in a hyped-up worry state about something in the future, now that he’s on the precipice of an uncertain adulthood, or calling up painful memories from the past. Because of his anxiety, which manifests itself in compulsive behaviours, others often see him as “bad” and a “problem.” When these images litter my mind, the base of my skull is taut and tense. I get stuck in futile rumination.

To ensure we're giving our brain equal exposure to the good in our life, Hansen in Hardwiring Happiness advocates these steps:

“Notice a positive experience...such as a physical pleasure, a sense of determination, or feeling close to someone. Or create a positive experience...For example, you could think about things for which you're grateful, bring to mind a friend, or recognize a task you've completed. As much as you can, help ideas like these become emotionally rewarding experiences; otherwise, it's merely positive thinking.

Enrich it. Stay with the positive experience for five to ten seconds or longer. Open to the feelings in it and try to sense it in your body; let it fill your mind. Enjoy it. Gently encourage the experience to be more intense. Find something fresh or novel about it. Recognize how it's personally relevant, how it could nourish or help you, or make a difference in your life. Get those neurons really firing together so they'll wire together.

Absorb it. ...Sense that the experience is sinking into you as you sink into it...Perhaps visualize it sifting down into you like golden dust, or feel it easing you like a soothing balm. Or place it like a jewel in the treasure chest of your heart. Know that the experience is becoming part of you, a resource that you can take with you wherever you go.”

I thought I'd try this, but at first I seemed to come up blank. I mean I could momentarily enjoy something like sitting in a fragrant bubble bath, but when I tried to conjure positive feelings and gratitude for my son with disabilities, it was hard to extinguish the negative feedback that some of his compulsive behaviours have recently generated.

I did in the course of a day experience some warm moments that I made an effort to savour and build on.

One was reading Ben the Geronimo Stilton Kingdom of Fantasy series. He is captivated with the characters and the story and when I read it he'll snuggle right up against me and hang on every word.

Another was his willingness to point to the text in his Kumon reading, word by word, while I said the words out loud. He often doesn't have the focus to do this, and will race his fingers over the lines much too fast for me to read it. Because he can't read the story out loud himself I want him to point to the words as I read them.

He's now downstairs watching Howl's Moving Castle and laughing so hard that he has to take gulps of air. He loves the larger than life characters of this Japanese anime film.

These are the kind of images I want to embed in my mind and call up more often.

But I can see how much of a discipline “taking the good in” is, like learning to meditate, and you have to start small.

This piece in The New York Times Motherlode column reminded me that how we see our situation, and the images we fill our mind with, is always a choice. A mother writes about the perspective she gained when her one-year-old with Down syndrome survived a harrowing seven months in isolation battling leukemia.

“Why should I be sad that my girl did not sit up at so-and-so many months, or walk at a year and a half, or talk soon after?” writes Cristina Nehring, who chronicles her daughter’s illness in Journey to the Edge of the Light. Her daughter “Dice listens, she laughs, she caresses; she seems extremely happy," Nehring writes. “All around us parents mutter about their kids growing up too fast. That is one problem we don’t have. We are taking our bloody good time. And if Dice never talked? We would make accommodations. I have been an oddball all my life too. At least my child would have a medical explanation. We would be oddballs together.”

Yesterday one of my daughters told me she had a funny dream. "We were all in this massive car and Ben was driving," she said. "He was driving really well—fast and dodging obstacles like garbage cans, people and animals.” She moved her arms to mimic steering a wheel. “It was almost like we were in a video game except it was real."

"That's so cool," I said. "I love that dream and Ben would love it too."

For a moment that image of freedom and self-determination for Ben filled my mind and I treasured it. And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn’t I keep calling up special moments when we sit side by side, enjoying a book?

It’s just as easy to rest my brain in all of the problems, the challenges and the worries.

And neither is the whole picture.

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Yes to synthetic happiness!

"Natural happiness is what we get when we get what we wanted, and synthetic happiness is what we make when we don’t get what we wanted."

Interesting Ted Talk by Harvard psychologist Dan Gilbert, author of Stumbling on Happiness.

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