The Essence of a Good Life.
Many of the difficulties we face in relationships stem from habits formed over a lifetime.
It is within our relationships—especially our closest ones—that we find the essence of a good life. Yet, this truth is anything but simple. When examining the lives of participants in the Harvard Study of Adult Development, spanning over eighty-five years, a striking pattern emerges: the happiest and healthiest individuals were those with the strongest relationships. But paradoxically, when we look at the most painful moments in their lives, relationships often played a central role there too.
Divorces, the loss of loved ones, struggles with addiction that strained bonds to their breaking point—many of life’s hardest trials stem from the very connections that bring us the greatest joy. This is one of life’s profound ironies, and it has inspired countless songs, films, and works of literature. The people who know us best, who make us feel most alive, are also the ones who can hurt us most deeply. Yet, this pain is rarely born of malice. Often, it arises simply because we are human, navigating our own paths, sometimes unintentionally wounding those we care about most.
This is the conundrum of human connection: how we respond to these challenges often defines the course of our lives. Do we face the music, or do we turn away? The Harvard Study reveals that no matter how wise, experienced, or capable we are, we will all encounter moments in life and in our relationships that leave us feeling unprepared. And yet, if we are willing to lean into these challenges, there is so much that can be done. As Jon Kabat-Zinn wisely put it, “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.”
Many of the difficulties we face in relationships stem from habits formed over a lifetime. These automatic, reflexive behaviors become so ingrained that we often don’t even notice them. Some of us avoid uncomfortable feelings, turning away from challenges. Others may react impulsively, driven by emotion before we’ve had a chance to reflect. These patterns, what psychologists call “coping styles,” shape how we navigate every challenge, from minor disagreements to major crises. And a key part of every coping style is how we use our relationships. Do we seek help? Do we accept it? Or do we retreat inward, facing our struggles in silence?
Consider two women, Abigail and Lucia, who I encountered during my medical training. Both were in their late 40s when they discovered a lump in their breast. Abigail’s response was to minimize its significance. She told no one—not her husband, not her sons, not even her doctor. She decided it was probably nothing and chose to focus on other things. Lucia, on the other hand, felt alarmed. She immediately told her husband, scheduled an appointment with her doctor, and informed her daughter. While waiting for the biopsy results, she leaned on her family for support, even as she continued to manage her career and daily life.
Both women were responding in ways that felt natural to them, shaped by their habitual coping styles. Abigail’s approach was to turn away, avoiding the difficulty and the potential burden it might place on others. Lucia, though equally afraid, chose to face the challenge head-on, involving her loved ones and taking action. Tragically, Abigail’s avoidance meant that by the time she sought help, it was too late. The cancer had advanced, and she lost her life. Lucia, by catching the cancer early and undergoing treatment, survived.
This stark contrast underscores a powerful truth: the refusal to face challenges directly, and to engage our support networks, can have profound consequences. Avoidance may feel easier in the moment, but it often leads to unintended outcomes, particularly in our relationships. Problems that are ignored don’t disappear, they burrow deeper, creating new issues and compounding the original pain.
The Harvard Study offers a unique perspective on how these patterns play out over a lifetime. When participants avoided addressing difficulties in middle age, the consequences often surfaced decades later. Those who tended to bury their heads in the sand reported poorer memory and lower life satisfaction in old age compared to those who faced challenges directly. This suggests that avoidance doesn’t just affect us in the short term—it can shape the trajectory of our entire lives.
Of course, life is endlessly dynamic, and what works in one situation may not work in another. Relationships require flexibility. The playful humor that defuses tension with a teenager may not be appropriate with a neighbor or a boss. The ability to adapt—to use the right tool for the right challenge—is a skill that can make all the difference.
Rigid coping strategies, while they may feel like strengths, can actually make us more fragile. In an earthquake, the most rigid structures are often the first to collapse. Flexibility, on the other hand, allows us to bend without breaking. This principle applies not just to buildings but to human beings. The ability to adapt, to flex with life’s changing circumstances, can mean the difference between weathering a storm and falling apart.
Ultimately, the path to a good life is not about avoiding challenges but about learning to meet them with courage, curiosity, and connection. It’s about cultivating the flexibility to navigate life’s inevitable waves, and the wisdom to lean on our relationships as both anchors and sails. In doing so, we not only strengthen our bonds with others but also discover the resilience and grace within ourselves.
Adapted from Waldinger & Schulz, The Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness, Simon & Schuster, 2023
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I deeply appreciate all the work you and your colleagues, specifically Tom Atkinson, have contributed to society, connecting the dots and articulating a primary dichotomy of patterns among our sensory input processing (right brain) with our cognitive processing (left brain). My hypothesis is that we are genetically programmed (to survive at all costs) and this dichotomy is a "normal behavior" and related to each of our personal experiences navigating Maslow's theory of human needs. Upward mobility provides fulfillment, and a "greater life," while our self-preservation kicks in as we perceive our well-being possibly being articulated by those we love the most. please "credit" my thoughts appropriately... Robert A. Ellis, Wellesley, MA