“Don’t Worry, Be Happy”: Don’t Be So Cruel
Can happiness and worry be a choice, or something that just happens to us?
“Don’t worry. Be Happy” is one of the cruelest phrases to hear when you’re worried or upset. When I have a big game, meet, or event approaching, I become an anxious person. I don’t always show it on the outside, but I lose sleep and obsessively run through every possible scenario in my mind. “Don’t worry,” sounds dismissive and unhelpful in those moments. Yet, cruelly, I say the same thing to my student-athletes when they’re anxious.
The phrase “don’t worry, be happy” isn’t mean, nor is the person advising it usually. They’re just trying to help and probably want to see the woeful person become hopeful. Hopeless people can be dangerous and unproductive people to themselves and their neighbors.
But however cruel the phrase may sound to us who are going through stages of anxiousness at the moment, the truth in “don’t worry, be happy” reveals a choice most of us don’t even realize is available for us.
If you’re like me, you assume worry isn’t something you can choose. Anxiousness seems like something that simply happens to you. You probably think the same about happiness. But what if both emotional states are a choice to a point?
I tell my athletes frequently, “control what you can control.” But we often don’t account for our emotions. We usually refer to the circumstances we can or can’t control. But how we react to events is just as much a choice, and the option we make influence outcomes—usually the ones we don't want when we worry.
To prove my point, here's an embarrassing story about myself. It’s actually more than one story. On more than one occasion, from little league sports to college, there were moments when I eagerly wanted to compete but either received limited-to-no playing time. If my team won without my help, everyone was excited and celebrating—except me. I was sullen and walked to the locker room in a pout. Looking back, I can see how I embarrassingly chose to be unhappy. I even spent a weekend with my girlfriend (now wife) and her family moping instead of enjoying their hospitality. It should've been a great weekend. My team won, and I spent time with great people. But because of my unmet expectations, I chose to be upset. Looking back on my decision to be bitter, I can see where it negatively affected my workouts and the way I played.
I’m no different in my choices to be happy. I usually find myself in a great mood as I meditate on something good that happened or is going to happen: spending time with my wife, an upcoming vacation, athletes improving in their effort, my favorite team winning, or the fast-approaching holiday season.
For my wife, the thought or idea of an upcoming trip makes her cheery and more relaxed. My mother gushes with smiles when she has the opportunity to be with her children. My sister-in-law starts celebrating Halloween at the end of August, and it brings her joy.
We commonly say these things make us happy, but the reality is that we choose to let them make us happy for whatever reason we find enjoyment in these people or ideas.
There’s a deeper-rooted joy we can find and plant ourselves in that is unwavering and unconcerned with the changing of our issues. Most find it in faith or religion, and others find it elsewhere. (I find joy in my faith.) But I’m referring to the surface-level moments where happiness seems to elude us. When we present these emotions as choices in the mundanity of life—when life changes and affects our emotions—we take back control of our thoughts and feelings rather than allowing them to control us.
Please regard that this is not advisable for clinical depression or diagnosed anxiety. Those are very real, and I’m not qualified to speak on those issues. But for those of us dealing with disappointment, we have options. We can choose our emotional state in response to our circumstances. It takes work.
Again, I say this as someone who very often chooses to see the negatives in life. It’s my job as a coach to nitpick the negatives to help athletes become whole as competitors and people. I see the negatives in more than just sports, too. I think politics, education, religion, and relationships can all be improved, and this negative vision drives my desire to desperately want to see people flourish in these areas of life. But unfortunately, I also choose to let these things bother me to the point of frustration, anger, depression, and hopelessness.
It’s in these instants what I need—probably more than an affirmation that my sad or worrisome state of emotions is valid—is a reminder to not worry and be happy. Perhaps we can rephrase “Don’t worry, be happy” from an imperative to an interrogative statement: “Can you not worry right now? Can you be happy instead?” Telling me to be happy when I'm worrying just sounds cruel. But after all, it is a choice, just not one I always want to make.
