Several years ago, I had a client named James who, at the peak of his business career, married and soon after began an affair with another woman. James had always enjoyed a drink, but during this time of juggling his marriage and the affair, his alcohol consumption spiraled out of control. One night, it caught up with him—he was arrested for a DUI. Shortly thereafter his wife discovered the affair. The consequences of that arrest, combined with other alcohol-fueled incidents, tarnished his professional reputation and ultimately cost him his job. For decades, James had poured himself into his work; being a relentless, dedicated worker was the foundation of his identity. When he walked into my office his marriage was also in crisis, and he seemed lost without a single anchor to hold him steady.
I asked James what had guided his decisions. In essence, I wanted to know the core motivation that had driven him to so many poor choices. He paused for a moment, then answered with a single word: “happiness.”
In our society we’re taught that happiness should be the primary goal in our lives. It’s an understandable error. After all, who doesn’t want to be happy?
Unfortunately, happiness is an unsatisfactory goal because it’s fleeting and often depends on external circumstances beyond our control. Pursuing it directly can lead to disappointment: the harder you chase it, the more elusive it becomes. Life is full of challenges—pain, loss, and struggle are inevitable. Expecting constant happiness sets you up for discontent. Also, it’s shallow on its own; it lacks the depth of meaning or purpose that comes from overcoming hardship or helping others. Studies like those from the Journal of Positive Psychology (circa 2010s) even suggest that obsessing over being happy can increase stress and dissatisfaction. People who aim for something bigger—like growth, connection, or impact—tend to find happiness as a byproduct, not the target. Chasing the feeling itself is an exercise in futility.
The Stoics prioritized values over chasing happiness—they saw the latter as a trap. They argued that happiness isn’t something you chase; it’s a byproduct of living virtuously. For them, values like wisdom, courage, justice, and self-discipline were the real deal.
Pursuing values gives life direction and depth that raw emotions like happiness can’t sustain. Values like integrity, courage, or compassion like a compass; they guide decisions and behavior when circumstances get tough or unpredictable. Unlike happiness, which ebbs and flows, values offer consistency and a sense of identity. They’re not about feeling good in the moment but about building something enduring—whether that’s character, relationships, or a legacy.
The research backs this up: studies from the American Psychological Association (e.g., 2010s work on self-determination theory) show that people who align their actions with intrinsic values report higher resilience and satisfaction over time, even when life gets hard.
While collaborating with James, I asked him to identify his core values. Having attended seminary in his youth, he easily rediscovered them. It became clear, though, that he’d sidelined those values for fleeting “gains.” As therapy progressed, he saw how neglecting his core values had fueled reckless choices that derailed his life. His path to recovery meant recommitting to those values and using them as a solid base to reconstruct his world.
Values push you to act, not just react. For example, sticking to honesty in a messy situation might not make you happy right away, but it reinforces who you are. That’s the beauty of it—values don’t bend to whims or external chaos, so they anchor you when the pursuit of fleeting goals like happiness falls flat.
The best to you.