Stop Chasing Happiness. Free Yourself from Unhappiness Instead.

Happiness is a moving target. But freedom from unhappiness might be closer than you think—if you stop believing everything your mind says.

The Trap of Chasing Happiness

We’re told to pursue happiness like it’s a goal we can one day check off a list—like getting a promotion, buying a house, or finally having “enough” free time. But for most people, the harder they chase it, the more elusive it becomes.

Happiness keeps changing shape. You think it lives at “better comp,” but once you get there, it moves to “more recognition.” Then “more meaning.” Then “less stress.” It’s a finish line that recedes every time you think you’re close.

And here’s the hard truth: when you make happiness your target, you end up organizing your life around a mirage. You run harder and faster, only to find yourself more disoriented, not less.

This isn’t just a personal cost. It’s a professional one too. When you’re fixated on feeling a certain way, your focus narrows. You start to interpret every challenge, every piece of feedback, through the lens of "Is this making me happier?" rather than "Is this helping me grow?" Ironically, this can lead to lower resilience, more burnout, and shorter attention spans—none of which are good for deep, meaningful work. And in some cases, it leads people to walk away from roles that were a great fit—teams they loved, missions they believed in—because they felt a fleeting sense of discomfort and assumed something was fundamentally wrong. The constant pursuit of happiness can become a form of escape that prevents long-term fulfillment and sustained contribution.

Subtracting unhappiness isn’t about disengaging. It’s about clearing the mental fog so you can show up with more clarity, energy, and depth.

A Different Starting Point

Let’s take a more grounded example.

An engineer gets promoted to a Staff role after months of long hours. The title comes. The comp bump hits. Friends congratulate them. And for a moment, it feels like peace.

But within a few weeks, they find themselves doubting every decision. They’re in rooms they used to admire from a distance, but now every silence feels like a test. They start obsessing over how they’re perceived, replaying Slack messages, scanning for signs of approval.

They got what they wanted. So why does everything still feel so fragile?

Because happiness wasn’t waiting at the promotion. And the mind—left unchecked—creates new ways to suffer, even in better circumstances.

What Actually Makes Unhappiness Stick

Happiness is slippery. But unhappiness? It’s usually built on something more stable: repeated thoughts. Quiet assumptions. The inner monologue you didn’t sign up for but keep listening to.

Many of us don’t suffer because of what’s happening. We suffer because of what we think is happening:

• “I’m not doing enough.”

• “They’re probably annoyed with me.”

• “If I mess this up, I’ll lose credibility.”

• “Everyone else has this figured out except me.”

You can be on a calm beach and still feel like you're drowning if your mind won't stop running simulations of everything that might go wrong. The suffering isn’t coming from the facts—it’s coming from the story you’re telling yourself about the facts. A colleague asking for more clarification might just mean they want clarity, but your mind might spin it into a narrative about incompetence or failure. One is reality; the other is interpretation. And the pain lives in the interpretation.

This is why subtracting unhappiness often starts not with changing your life—but changing your relationship to thought.

Mental Model: Cognitive Defusion

There’s a concept in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) called cognitive defusion. It’s the practice of noticing your thoughts without automatically accepting them as true.

Think of thoughts like clouds passing in the sky. Most people try to control the weather—“I need to feel confident. I should think more positive thoughts.” But defusion is different. You don’t chase better weather. You just stop building shelters under every cloud that appears.

It sounds simple, but it’s hard at first. We're used to giving our thoughts the same weight as facts. But when you start pausing and saying, “That’s just a thought. It might not be true,” something shifts.

A Softer Way Through

This isn’t about becoming indifferent. Or suppressing emotion. It’s about approaching your mind with the same gentleness you’d give a friend who’s spiraling.

When a loved one says, “I feel like I’m not good enough,” you don’t argue or shame them. You hold space. You help them see another angle. What would happen if you did that for yourself?

Let’s take another example.

You write a design doc. You get some light feedback: “Consider clarifying this part.” And suddenly your mind lights up: “They think I’m unclear. I’m slipping. Maybe I shouldn’t be in this role.”

What if, instead of following that train of thought, you paused and said: “Ah. My mind is trying to protect me. But this is just a thought, not a fact.” That pause alone might keep you from spiraling into self-doubt.

What Helps You Anchor

Defusion is one tool. But subtraction also requires anchoring—developing something stronger than thought to orient your decisions.

Let’s begin with something deeply human:

• Parenting: Imagine a parent coming home after a rough day. Their mind is racing—deadlines missed, awkward meetings, a performance review hanging over their head. But the moment they step through the door, they see their kid running toward them with a happy smile and a book in hand. That’s the anchor. The noise doesn’t vanish, but in that moment, they remember what truly matters. They shift out of their mental storm and into presence.

For some, that anchor is spiritual belief or faith in a higher purpose. For others, it’s a guiding philosophy or a code they try to live by. But anchoring doesn’t always need to sound lofty. Sometimes it’s as simple as:

“Even if everything feels chaotic right now, I want to be the kind of person who stays kind.”

Or:

“No matter what happens today, I will show up and do the next honest thing.”

Here are a few more ways people anchor themselves across different walks of life:

• Spiritual: Someone who prays five times a day isn’t just performing a ritual—they’re stepping out of their mind and into something steadier. It’s a rhythm that reminds them: “There’s something greater than my fears today.”

• Creative: A writer who journals every morning doesn’t just write to produce. They write to remember what they value. When the noise rises—imposter syndrome, comparisons, doubt—the page reminds them who they are beneath it all.

• Medical: A nurse on a night shift might repeat silently, “I’m here to reduce suffering, even if I’m tired and unseen.” That intention becomes a shield from the cynicism that can creep in.

• Professional: An engineering leader might carry this quiet motto: “My role is not to be the smartest in the room—but to make the room safer for thinking.” When stakes are high, that anchor keeps them from spiraling into ego or defensiveness.

• Relational: A son caring for an aging parent might feel frustration, fatigue, even resentment—but returns, again and again, to the thought: “This is love in practice, not just in words.”

And one we often forget:

• Self-directed: Someone learning to be gentle with themselves may whisper, “I don’t have to earn my worth today. I just have to live honestly.”

These anchors don’t always silence the storm. But they give you a foothold—something to return to when thoughts pull you in too many directions.

Without an anchor, we drift with every internal current. But with one, we return—not to perfect clarity, but to something steady enough to stand on.

Takeaways

• Instead of chasing happiness, start by subtracting unhappiness.

• You don’t need to believe every thought that passes through your mind.

• Gentle awareness is more powerful than aggressive positivity.

• Develop something deeper to anchor your perspective—something that holds even when your feelings don’t.

You don’t need a perfect day to feel free. You just need a different stance toward the chatter in your head.

An Open Question

What might change in your life if you stopped giving your thoughts the final say?

(Some of the most grounded engineers I know aren't the ones with the happiest thoughts—but the ones who no longer let those thoughts run the show.)