The Happiness Trap (9 page)

If you were trekking through the Alaskan wilderness and you suddenly came face-to-face with a huge grizzly bear, what would you do? Scream? Call for help? Run away? We’ll return to that question a bit later, after we’ve answered: What are emotions?

Scientists have a hard time reaching any kind of consensus on what emotions actually are, but most experts agree on three things:

Physical changes in the body may include alterations in heart rate, blood pressure, muscle tone, circulation and hormone levels, as well as the activation of different parts of the nervous system. We notice these changes as sensations, such as ‘butterflies’ in the stomach, a ‘lump’ in the throat, watering eyes or clammy hands. We also notice them as urges to act in a particular way, such as to cry, laugh or hide.

Emotions influence us to act in different ways. For example, under the influence of any strong emotion, we commonly make changes to our voice, facial expression, body posture, and behaviour. The likelihood that we will act in a particular way when experiencing a particular emotion is known as an ‘action tendency’. But notice the key word here: ‘tendency’. A tendency means we have the
inclination
to do something; it doesn’t mean we
have
to do it, that we have
no
choice. It doesn’t mean we are forced or compelled to act in a particular way; it just means we
tend
to act that way. So, for example, if you’re anxious about running late, you may have the
tendency
to drive above the speed limit, but you can still
choose
to drive legally and safely if you wish. Or if you’re angry with someone, you may have a
tendency
to yell at them, but you can
choose
to talk calmly if you wish.

To understand what constitutes an emotion, let’s take a look at anxiety. The experience of anxiety varies from person to person (as does any emotion), but it may include some or all of the following:

Emotions are closely tied up with thoughts, memories and images. For instance, when you’re feeling afraid, you may have thoughts about what might go wrong, memories of other times you’ve felt afraid or mental images of anything from a car crash to a heart attack. One particular type of thought process is so intimately linked to our emotions that some experts consider it a core component. This is the process of ‘making sense of’ or ‘giving meaning to’ our experience. For example, with sadness you have a sense of loss, and with fear you have a sense of danger.

The word ‘emotion’ is derived from the Latin
exmovere,
meaning to ‘move out’ or ‘excite’, and many of the names we give to our emotions are derived from ancient words for physical sensations. For example, ‘anguish’, ‘angst’, ‘anger’ and ‘anxiety’ all stem from the Latin
angere,
which means ‘to choke’—a reference to the tightness in the throat often associated with such emotions. For the sake of clarity, whenever I use the terms ‘emotions’ and ‘feelings’, I am referring primarily to the physical sensations and urges that we experience, rather than to the meanings or thoughts associated with them.

The answer to this is, quite simply, no! Our emotions definitely do not control our behaviour. For example, you can feel angry but act calmly. You may have the
tendency
to shout, grimace, clench your fists or lash out physically or verbally, but you don’t
have to.
You can, if you
choose,
speak slowly and calmly, maintain a look of serenity on your face, and hold your body in an open, relaxed posture.

I’m sure that at some point in your life you have felt afraid, yet you persisted in the face of that fear even though you felt like running away. In other words, you had a
tendency
to run, but you
chose
not to. We all have experienced this, for instance, when sitting for an exam, asking someone for a date, going for a job interview, speaking before a group or partaking in a dangerous sport.

You already know that whenever I give a speech in public I experience anxiety. And yet, when I reveal this to my audience (as I usually do), they are always amazed. ‘But you look so calm and confident,’ they say. That’s because even though I’m feeling anxious (racing heart, churning stomach, sweaty palms), I am not
acting
anxious. Anxiety typically gives us the
tendency
to fidget, breathe rapidly or talk fast; yet I do the very opposite of these things. I consciously
choose
to talk slowly, breathe slowly and move slowly. The same is true for virtually all public speakers: even after years of experience, they still commonly
feel
anxious, but you’d never know it, because they
act
calm.

Think of the poker player who keeps his face deadpan even when he’s feeling intense emotions. Think of the professional actor who can bring to life all the facial expressions, physical gestures and vocal changes of sheer panic, even though the actor himself may be feeling quite calm. (Method actors, obviously, are a different story.) Think of the times you’ve ‘put on a happy face’ even though you were feeling terrible. In all these cases, the actions are distinct from the emotions.

Now let’s return to the opening scenario of this chapter: you’re trekking through the Alaskan wilderness and you meet a grizzly bear. Obviously, you will feel intense fear and undoubtedly you’ll feel the urge to turn and run. But if you have read your survival manual, you’ll know that’s about the worst thing you could possibly do. If you turn and run, you will incite the bear’s pursuit instinct. It will chase after you and easily outrun you within seconds. After that, you’re bear fodder. Now, although there’s some discussion among the experts about the best response, they tend to agree that a good rule is to back away
slowly,
without any sudden moves or loud noises, and never turn your back on the bear.

Many people have survived by following this advice. They all felt terrible fear—that much was out of their control—but they were able to control
how they acted.
So here’s the point I’m trying to hammer home: although you have don’t have much direct control over your feelings, you can directly control your actions. This realisation will have important practical applications later because when it comes to making important changes in your life, it’s far more useful to focus on what you can control rather than on what you can’t.

Of course, there are some reflex reactions that can’t be controlled. For example, if I go to poke you in the eye, your eyelids will instantly close. You can’t control that. Even if I offered you one million dollars, you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyelids from closing. But such reflexes are the exception. The vast majority of our actions can be controlled, provided we are
consciously aware
of them.

The idea that emotions control your actions is a very powerful illusion. Psychologist Hank Robb compares this illusion to that of a sunset. When we watch a sunset, the sun appears to be sinking below the horizon. But in fact, the sun is not moving at all. It’s the earth that’s moving, rotating on its axis so that we’re actually moving away from the sun. And even though we’ve all learned this at school, it’s so easy to forget! When you’re watching that sunset, it’s almost impossible to believe that the sun is stationary and that it’s actually the ground you’re standing on that is moving.

When we’re feeling strong emotions we may do all sorts of things we later regret. We may smash things, shout, abuse people, drink excessively or engage in any number of destructive behaviours. And it
seems
as if the emotion were
causing
us to do this. But actually, it’s not. We’re only acting this way because we’ve developed bad habits. But if we
consciously
bring our awareness to how we are feeling, and
consciously
observe how we’re behaving, then no matter how intense our emotions are, we can still control our actions. Even when you’re furious or terrified, you can stand up or sit down, close your mouth, drink a glass of water, answer the telephone, go to the toilet or scratch your head. You can’t stop yourself from
feeling
angry or afraid, but you certainly
can
control how you behave.

The problem is, our society perpetuates the myth that emotions control our behaviour. For example, we talk about being ‘driven by fear’, ‘seized by anger’ or ‘overwhelmed by guilt’. We justify our behaviour by saying things like, ‘I was so angry, I couldn’t help it!’ or ‘I was too depressed to do anything.’ And we use expressions like, ‘My fear got the better of me’ or ‘My anger took over.’ So when we grow up hearing people talk this way, we readily come to believe that our emotions control us—and it’s a powerful illusion to shake.

What about those cases where people get paralysed by fear? It’s true that in very rare instances, when people find themselves in a genuinely life-threatening situation, they may become temporarily ‘paralysed’ by fear, rather like a rabbit frozen in the headlights. But 99.9 per cent of the time when we talk about being ‘paralysed by fear’, it isn’t the literal truth. It’s just a metaphor; a colourful turn of phrase. The person is not truly physically incapable of taking action; he or she is simply choosing not to.

Emotions are like the weather—they’re always present and constantly changing. They continually ebb and flow, from mild to intense, pleasant to unpleasant, predictable to utterly unexpected. A ‘mood’ refers to the general tone of emotion across a period of time. A ‘feeling’ refers to a discrete episode of emotion with distinctive, recognisable characteristics. In our weather analogy, a ‘bad mood’ is akin to an overcast day, whereas a feeling of anger or anxiety is akin to a storm. We’re always experiencing emotion of some sort, just as there is always weather of some sort—although sometimes it isn’t strong enough or distinct enough for us to describe it easily, or perhaps even to notice it. At such times, if someone asks us how we’re feeling, we might say ‘fine’ or ‘I’m not feeling anything in particular.’

Some people are very much ‘in touch’ with their emotions while others are, to varying degrees, ‘disconnected’ from them. Likewise, some people are very good at talking about their feelings, while others have great difficulty doing so and may be limited to simple expressions such as ‘I feel good’, ‘I feel bad’, or ‘I feel funny.’ Although we may say someone has ‘no feelings’, the truth is, such people don’t exist. Everyone has emotions and feelings, regardless of whether they are ‘in touch’ with them or able to express them in words.

There are three phases in the creation of an emotion.

An emotion is triggered by some sort of significant event. This event may happen inside your body (a distressing memory, a painful sensation or a disturbing thought) or it may happen in the world around you (something you can see, hear, smell, taste or touch). Your brain notices this event and alerts you that it’s important.

The brain starts to evaluate this event: ‘Is it good or bad? Beneficial or harmful?’ At the same time, the brain starts to arouse the body for action: either to approach or to avoid the event. In this phase there is no distinctive ‘feeling’ in the usual sense of the word. If the brain judges the event as harmful, the ‘fight-or-flight response’ is triggered, and our body prepares to either attack or escape. If the brain judges the event as potentially helpful, our body prepares to approach and explore it. And as our body gets ready for action, we experience a variety of sensations and urges.

In the third phase, our mind starts attaching words, ideas and meanings to the changes happening in our body. For example, the mind may give our sensations and urges a label such as ‘frustration’ or ‘joy’, or ‘feeling lousy’. And what our mind tells us about these sensations has a significant impact on how we relate to them. For example, imagine two people on a rollercoaster. One of them is terrified; the other is exhilarated. Both are experiencing the same physical changes (raised adrenaline levels, increased blood pressure), the same physical sensations (churning stomach, pounding heart), and the same urges (to scream), but their subjective experiences are very different, depending on what their minds tell them. One mind says, ‘This is fun!’, the other mind says, ‘This is dangerous!’ Guess who feels exhilarated and who feels frightened. In the same way, one performer’s ‘stage fright’ can be another performer’s ‘adrenaline rush’. Both performers experience the same sensations (racing heart, shaking legs and so on), but their minds interpret those sensations very differently.

The fight-or-flight response is a primitive survival reflex that originates in the midbrain. It has evolved on the basis that if something is threatening you, your best chance of survival is either to run away (flight) or to stand your ground and defend yourself (fight). You heart rate speeds up, your body floods with adrenaline, blood shunts to the large muscles of your arms and legs and your breathing increases to give you more oxygen, all of which primes you to flee or else stay and fight.