Feeling Good vs. Living Well (Part I): The Cost of Chasing Happiness

“Two men looked out from prison bars, one saw the mud, the other saw the stars” – Dale Carnegie

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Modern culture is saturated with the promise of happiness. From advertising to self-help, the message is clear: if we buy the right product or manage our emotions correctly, we’ll finally feel good. Yet experience tells a different story—once we buy that product or follow that prescription we are left wanting more.

Like trying to cram every ounce of fun into a vacation, the more we seek happiness, as an end, the less we have it. We usually end up exhausted at best and miserable at worst, half-joking that we need another vacation. And when we follow this same strategy in life, the joking tends to disappear altogether.

Informed by our culture our minds often say “in order to live well I need to feel good.” But deep down we know that doesn’t work. To understand why this happens, we first need to understand how the human mind tries to solve problems.

And perhaps our obsession with happiness isn’t a defect, but a clue — a sign that we were made for something deeper than comfort, and that our problem is not the desire itself, but the way we pursue it.

This reflection unfolds in two parts. In the first, we’ll look at the psychological cost of trying to control our inner lives—and why “feeling good” is often a poor substitute for living well. In the second, we’ll turn more explicitly to the spiritual dimension of this struggle, and why the Christian story offers a deeper answer to our hunger for happiness.

For now, let’s begin by looking more closely at our struggle with control.

The Problem With Control

The human story is one about overcoming adversity. Think about it, compared to the menagerie of species that exist we are fragile creatures. We are slower than most predators, and possess no natural hides or exoskeletons for defense, no fur or scales to protect against the elements, and no heightened senses like dogs or eagles. We are genetic wimps. And yet, we completely dominate the planet thanks to one incredible advantage – language.

Human language evolved to solve external problems—and it does this remarkably well. Just look around you. Everything from the device that you are reading this on to the shoes on your feet are an achievement of the human mind to identify a challenge, conceptualize a solution and communicate it to others.

Human language allows us to see a difficulty in the external world and fix it. And it works remarkably well.

The hitch is when we take that same powerful tool and try to control our internal world  – the way we feel. Our brain treats negative emotions like a flat tire, “well that’s something I need to fix to get moving forward again!”

But therein lies the snare. Because over time this gives rise to rigid rules like:

• “Life will be better once I fix myself.”

• “I’ll live fully once I feel better.”

• “Once I get that new job things will be totally different.”

• “If I could get over my anxiety I could go out and live.”

• “If I didn’t have my past, I’d be happy”

Language, used in this way, creates an insidious trap: first you must win (feel good), then you’re allowed to play the game (live). That remarkable liberator that allowed us to master the external world becomes the jailor of our internal prison.

How terribly sad is it that we as a species can sail across the seas or fly to the moon, yet our own minds tell us we can’t go to work events, can’t be in relationships, or even can’t leave the front door?

 Like our Lord said, “What profit is it for a man to gain the whole world and to lose his own soul?” While this applies on the moral and spiritual level it certainly fits psychologically.

The desire to control doesn’t just limit our lives – it comes at a considerable cost.

The Hidden Cost of Control

Emotion regulation is a well-studied phenomenon in psychology. Efforts to control the way we feel – like suppressing or avoiding unwanted emotions – have been shown time and again to increase physiological arousal, rumination, and psychological distress.

In a 2024 study of a large, non-clinical sample (individuals not in mental health treatment) researchers identified that those who habitually sought to suppress and control negative emotions  had poorer sleep and higher levels of anxiety. Suppression doesn’t just shape feelings, but has a significant impact on daily functioning. In other words, control strategies don’t just feel exhausting – they disrupt daily life.

And it’s not just trying to tamp down emotions that is problematic. In fact, emotional control efforts more broadly produce a counter-productive effect. A 2025 meta-analysis on anger and emotional regulation identified that strategies ranging from avoidance to rumination all led to increased anger.

In other words, no matter how fast you run, your feelings will still be there. And no matter how much you try to out-think them, your feelings will be always be cleverer. The paradox is, the more we run from our pain, the more pain we experience.

So if control doesn’t work, what actually allows a person to live well in the presence of pain?

Living Well Instead of Feeling Well (An ACT Perspective)

Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist certainly had his share of hardships. Losing everything to the Nazi’s – his career, his parents, his wife and his freedom – he easily could have given in to despair. However, he famously said, “Happiness cannot be pursued, it must ensue. One must have a reason for ‘being happy.’”

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) echoes this, and reframes the problem entirely. It accepts that emotions are not obstacles to life, but a fundamental part of the human condition. As a function of being human we ALL experience sadness, anxiety, guilt, grief, anger, fear, and pain. From the ACT perspective, the more we focus on removing these feelings, the more suffering we cause.

ACT focuses instead on reducing our reliance on that incredible superpower we call human language. Because with language  we analyze, worry, stew on, ruminate, suppress, avoid and isolate from others, all in an effort to “fix” the way we feel. But it does not work.

ACT teaches that trying to fix the problem is actually a big part of the problem. There’s a famous metaphor in the original ACT therapy book, called “the-man-in-the hole” that therapists often share with patients early in treatment. It goes something like this:

“Imagine you’ve been dropped in a field blindfolded with nothing but a bag of tools and told you need to get moving. You start walking along and sooner or later, you realize there are some holes in this field because, through no fault of your own, you fall in one. And it’s a big one. In fact, its so big you can’t get out of it. Now, thankfully you have your bag of tools so you reach in. And you find that the only tool inside is a shovel. So, you start digging. First you start small, then you try bigger shovel loads. But at some point, you realize the hole is just getting bigger. So at some point, you look around and see what’s really happening - you are trying to dig your way out of a hole. Perhaps it’s time to put down the shovel.”

The antidote to this hopeless task is often laid out in another helpful metaphor: imagine each of us having two internal dials, like the volume knobs on a stereo. Both are rated 0-10. The one we focus on most is our “negative feelings” dial and usually it is set really high.  And we think “well if I can just edge that down I’ll feel happy!” But that dial doesn’t turn so well, and the more we try, the more stuck it gets. Really what we need to do is focus on the other dial: our willingness dial.

Willingness is about making space for negative emotions rather than fighting or running from them. Instead of seeking to control of emotions, we allow them to be present.

By letting go of the internal struggle sometimes the other dial actually may go down. And then it will go back up. And down, and up again, and again. Because we are human sometimes we feel bad. And that’s the point. Rather than being stuck at a 10 all the time, by turning our willingness up we can be present to and experience the full range of the human experience.

There’s a saying in ACT, “If you aren’t willing to have it, you’ve already got it.” In other words:

• If you aren’t willing to be anxious, you’ll have anxiety about being anxious.

• If you aren’t willing to be angry, you’ll be angry about being angry.

• If you aren’t willing to be sad, you’ll be sad that you are sad.

  
  

And the hole will get deeper and deeper.

But when we focus on willingness, something wonderful happens. We can make space for what truly matters. Regardless of what the negative emotions dial is set on at the moment we can live with courage and purpose.

There is robust support for this focus shift.  A 2025 review of ACT in Cuerus found that across numerous randomized controlled trials, ACTs emphasis on acceptance of internal experiences led to increased life satisfaction. In part by, allowing someone to engage in values-based action.

In other words, rather than clinging tightly to the way we feel inside, we can actually take steps to live more fully.  

Practicing Willingness: Four Simple Tools

So what does willingness look like? Here are a few ways to practice today:

1.     Identify the problem of control in your own life: As you go about your day this week, write a list of the ways you tried to “avoid” feeling bad. Don’t beat yourself up about it but ask yourself, “did this work? Did this move me closer to or further away from the person I want to be?”

2.     Flex the willingness muscle: Intentionally put yourself in situations that will evoke a little anxiety. Send the email before analyzing every word; leave a few minutes late for your dinner reservation; wear a mismatched pair of socks. Know that you WILL feel uncomfortable. But see if you can be present to it.

3.     Notice the feeling: Often times when we feel strongly we get caught up in our minds. We analyze, and question and move into problem solving. While this can work sometimes, many times it is another form of digging. Instead, practice visualizing the feeling in your body. Where is sadness located? Where are the edges in your body? Does anxiety have a shape? Is it three dimensional or flat? What color is guilt? Is it solid or opaque?

4.     Welcome the feeling: If there is a particular feeling like anger, anxiety, sadness, that you struggle with take a few moments and sit with it. Allow yourself to feel it. Think of it like an annoying neighbor. The kind that plays the radio a little too loud, or wants to stop and talk every time they see you coming up the driveway. Just like our emotions, you have to live with them. When that feeling comes up, practice saying to yourself, “welcome anxiety (or sadness, anger, etc.), my old friend.”

None of these practices aim at feeling better; they aim at helping us live better.

 A Question That Remains

Learning to let go of the struggle to control our emotions gives us something precious: our lives back. We stop waiting to feel better before we begin living, and instead begin living as we are. And yet, a deeper question remains. If happiness cannot be manufactured, controlled, or chased into existence, why do we long for it so deeply in the first place? That question—about desire, meaning, and what we were made for—is where the next reflection will turn next in Part II.

For now, the invitation is simple: practice willingness, make room for discomfort, and keep living in the direction of what matters.

Disclaimer

This post is for informational and inspirational purposes only and does not constitute medical or psychological advice. The content provided here is not a substitute for professional care, diagnosis or treatment. Reading this blog, subscribing to updates or engaging with its content does not establish a therapist-client relationship. Please consult a licensed healthcare professional for personal support. Portions of this blog may be generated or refined with the assistance of AI tools. All material has been shaped, edited, and finalized by the author to ensure fidelity to Catholic teaching, sound psychological practice, and lived human experience.