The “Hedonic Treadmill” and Middle Age

Pondering the Hedonic Treadmill at Midlife | Pamela Price for RedWhiteandGrew.com
Photo credit: Pamela Price

“I need some sort of peak life experience to dislodge me from this forty-something funk I’m in.” That’s the gist of what I confided to my friend, “J,”  a few weeks ago. At the time, she and I were commiserating about the middling nature of middle age, the piling on of upsets, hardships, and losses.

Simply saying those words was a relief, as if in admitting that I felt stuck I’d begun to dislodge myself from my unhappy place. Even better was J’s swift reply: “Me, too.” Something about our exchange seemed significant, telling — like together we’d stumbled on an essential thing.

As I’m prone to do when I think I’ve stumbled upon a Deep Human Insight (TM), I hit Google for validation. While I don’t remember the exact words I input into the search field, articles mentioning the phrase “hedonic treadmill” in the title came back.

“What the…?” I muttered.

A few articles into the topic, I was enamored with this decades-old positive psychology theory. Also known as “hedonic adaptation,” the hedonic treadmill is used to describe how we humans return to a happiness set point (more precisely a happiness set range) no matter what happens to us in life.

Win the lottery? Ride the high while you can because it’ll end. Suffer a tragedy? Chin up, buttercup, because odds are good you’ll rebound. Basically, it’s a lot like riding a pony on a merry-go-round, with the horse getting stuck in the middle for a couple of spins while the brass ring glistens just out of reach.

For some, our happiness range is a little higher; for others, a little lower. But, generally speaking, whatever befalls us – for better or worse, we drift back (“habituate”) to our personal happiness set range. (Your mileage may vary, obviously, if you’re prone to depression or, in my case, anxiety. Some of us need a little help from time to time getting and staying in a healthy zone.)

After reading up on the hedonic treadmill for half an hour, I stared at at my computer screen and wondered: “What does it mean for our experience of well-being at mid-life?”

The more I’ve read about and pondered the idea of the treadmill, the more convinced I’ve become that culture and biology conspire to front load the major highs of life into our youth: first kiss, first car, graduation(s), first marriage, first home, first child, and career achievements. Typically these things come as reward for personal diligence, long-term commitment to delayed gratification, and kindness to (or at least civil cooperation with) others. As we leap from achievement to achievement, we get a jolt–a buzz even–from the sheer excitement that comes with growth and demonstrable success.

Later, as we age into our fifth decade, the distance grows between those highs while the lows begin to settle in, often uninvited: divorce, death, illness, job loss, and so forth. Many of these things come through no fault of our own, but our experience of them can be aggravated by a sense of isolation we encounter as we move to the margins of a youth and achievement-obsessed culture.

Looking at mid-life through the lens of the hedonic treadmill theory, is it any surprise that we forty-somethings struggle at times with feelings of vague sadness? Is it any shock that we see ourselves and our friends pursue unhealthy relationships or numbing behaviors like drinking too much wine or, in my own case, eating too much sugar?

No wonder J and I recognized in ourselves and one another that desire to get another hit of peak happiness.

Fortunately, from what I’ve gleaned since that first Google search, there are things we can do to elevate our position within our happiness range. They’re the kinds of self-care activities that we all know we should do but that we tend to let fall to the side as we juggle the burdens of midlife. I’m talking about our engaging in mindfulness work (or prayer), maintaining healthy diets, getting enough sleep, exercising regularly, and nurturing healthy personal and professional relationships.

Frankly, however, just learning about the hedonic treadmill and coming to regard it as a normal part of the ebb-and-flow of life, I’ve found more spring in my step. For me, this discovery was a huge cognitive reframing of middle age.  In the wake of the revelation, I rejoined our gym, rolled out my yoga map, greatly reduced my sugar consumption, overhauled my blog’s design to reflect the kind of writing I most want to do, and dusted off an old passion project (about Texas history!) that had grown dusty.

Let’s see if by working on these things I can move up a notch or too in my personal happiness range. Seems like a good summer project.

Besides, what have I got to lose but the mid-life blues?

Explore More:

• For your convenience, I’ve assembled a selection of books that have helped me reshape my own thinking about happiness at mid-life. Some of these are books I owned but others are new to me within the last few weeks–yet all of them tried and tested by yours truly. You’ll find them waiting for you on  virtual shelf  in my Amazon store. (Yes, as an Amazon affiliate, I get a few pennies if you purchase something.) Note, too, that for over a year I’ve been fiddling with a dialectical behavior therapy planner that fits with the “cures” for those of us stuck on the hedonic treadmill. Highly recommended.

In case you missed it, last week I wrote this post on middle-aged daughters who shoulder the burdens of eldercare. It’s on my new Medium page. I also have a crazy, random story about how I lost and found my bag in Heathrow airport up over on LinkedIn.

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The “Hedonic Treadmill” and Middle Age

Me, Mom, and AHCA

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A mural in Dublin, Ireland, last month reminded me of how we’re all interconnected, from tender roots and shoots to the last green leaf on the weakest limb.

Having spent a few months processing my grief both privately and out loud (here and here and over on The Mighty [and now Medium] ) and a few weeks trying to bite my tongue about healthcare legislation, I finally grabbed a rock, a slingshot, and took aim at a modern day Goliath: the American Health Care Act recently passed by the House of Representatives.

This was something that I promised to do some day, to take what Mom and I learned about eldercare and use those lessons for good. She said to wait until I was ready, when an opportunity presented itself.

It’s time.

Thus, from the Rivard Report, our city’s news-driven indie, comes today my first published op-ed in over a decade:

Mother’s Day looms now, my first without her. As I work through my grief and memories, I catch stories about what Republicans in Washington think we should do to care for elders and other people with disabilities. I also find myself revisiting my darkest hours with my mother and wondering: “Could it have been so much worse?”

Yes. It could be worse. Not for my mother and I, because our time together is over, but it could become worse for families like ours.

Early reports indicate that the bill that the House of Representatives passed this week puts a cap on long-term Medicaid spending. Over time, this will lead to a widening gap between costs and funding, leaving people like my mother potentially endangered. I’m not surprised this passed. Fresh from “walking my mother home,” to riff on the words of spiritual leader Ram Dass, I’m sensitive to what lies ahead for Americans and our financial resources, especially as Baby Boomers age. Medical technology and intensive daily personal care helped extend my mother’s life, and Medicare/Medicaid funded it.

But can we realistically do that for everyone? And if we cap or draw down spending, who is most impacted?

Everything I have to say–including some grim truths I’ve never shared publicly about my mother’s specific case–is summed up in the rest of the piece save for this: The sustainable solutions that living, breathing elders (and soon-to-be elders) like her need will require forward-thinking, post-partisan (or at least bipartisan) solutions that I have yet to encounter in my reading about the bill. As Jimmy Kimmel said in the wake of his newborn son’s healthcare crisis, “Let’s stop with the nonsense, this isn’t football there are no teams. We are the team, it’s the United States.”

Amen. There is no need for political theatrics, either.

Here’s hoping the Senate does better than Congress.* In fact, both of my Senators (Ted Cruz and John Cornyn – both Rs) are reportedly part of the core group of 13 men looking at the Senate’s forthcoming healthcare legislation.

Read the full op-ed on the Rivard Report.

* For the record, my congressman (Will Hurd-R) switched his stance at the last minute and voted against AHCA. This is what I and many others in his purple district asked him to do the morning of the vote. Small victories matter.

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Me, Mom, and AHCA