On doing the work of becoming yourself
We must face our own private griefs, fears, and habits of mind
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I recently finished the book “The Midnight Train” by Matt Haig, and one line at the end stayed with me. The protagonist, speaking to a younger version of himself, urges him to make his wife happy. My immediate response was, “No, no, you can’t make other people happy.”
My reaction was immediate, because I have learned, sometimes the hard way, that love and happiness are not the same thing. We can comfort people, encourage them, sit with them in pain, and help make life gentler. We can absolutely matter to one another. But I do not think we can reach inside another person and create peace there by force of devotion.
I think about this most when I remember being diagnosed with Friedreich’s ataxia (FA). My family had to sit by as I sank into darkness. They loved me, and for the most part, they treated me with tenderness and respect. But no reassuring words or trips to the ice cream stand were going to pull me out of that place until I did something myself.
I still remember sitting on our family’s porch and deciding that I could be happy — not every second, of course, but truly content — even though I had FA. I couldn’t have reached that point without my family’s love and support. Still, they couldn’t make that breakthrough for me. They gave me the room and the care I needed, but I had to do the inner work myself.
Importantly, I don’t mean to imply that I made the decision and then all was good. That decision was the first step in my lifelong journey to pursue happiness.
Happiness in a relationship with FA
I think what troubles me most is how heavy the promise to make your partner happy becomes. If I believe it is my job to make someone else happy, then I am taking responsibility for something I cannot control. This belief can make love feel like pressure, or even disappointment, rather than companionship.
I carried that lesson into marriage, though not gracefully at first. In the beginning, I expected my husband, Dave, to somehow know what I needed and to ease the pain of having FA without my ever saying it plainly. Looking back, I’m not even sure I knew exactly what I wanted from him.
A couples counselor helped us see the cycle we were stuck in: unrealistic expectations, disappointment, and hurt. When I realized that Dave could support me but could not find my way for me, our marriage changed for the better. He was there for me, and I was there for him, but we were giving each other love, not happiness.
Maybe that is why so many “happily ever after” stories ring false to me now. They blur the difference between being deeply loved and being permanently relieved of pain. A good marriage is work. A good partner can help you navigate the inevitable pains of FA and life, but they cannot remove them for you.
Even the people who bring us the most joy cannot keep us from facing our own private griefs, fears, and habits of mind. A partner can brighten a life, but they cannot do the inner work of noticing beauty, healing old wounds, building a self that knows how to receive love, or maintaining resilience in your journey with FA. That part belongs to each of us.
The truer promise for me is something more modest and honest: It’s not “I will make you happy,” but “I will love you as well as I can while you do the work of becoming yourself.”
I do not mean that in a bleak way. If anything, I think it makes love more tender, because it frees us from the fantasy of rescue and asks us instead to show up with care, humility, and respect. We can accompany one another, steady one another, and remind one another that life is still worth showing up for. But the deeper work of happiness — of making meaning, practicing self-compassion, and learning how to live inside one’s own life — has to be done from within.
Note: Friedreich’s Ataxia News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Friedreich’s Ataxia News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Friedreich’s ataxia.
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