Vicarious Joy

“They say misery loves company. We should start a company and make misery. Frustrated, Incorporated.” – Soul Asylum

The first time I heard that song I was eighteen years old, fresh out of high school but with no clear idea of what the future held. Honestly, I still don’t know, but back then it was so murky I was worried it would never resolve itself into the picture I hoped it would show, a successful man who took life by the horns and made it do his bidding. So, I identified with the lyrics of that song, as frustrated as I was back then. Of course at 18 we are all usually so unfocused and despondent about life, having just completed one phase and being caught in the limbo between that one and the next.

And then I would see everyone else going about their lives looking happy, walking from place to place with steady strides that told me they were going places, that they were happy, that they knew so much more about themselves and their destinations than I would ever know about mine. All I wanted back then was someone who I knew understood what I was going through, but as always I have never been drawn to people my own age, so the people I did talk to were the ones who had purpose already.

They do say that misery loves company, but I never understood that then, and I still don’t now. How is someone else’s misery ever responsible for helping you end yours? I had no purpose and being around others who had no purpose could help inspire both of us to get purpose, but I could never imagine taking joy from anyone else’s frustration. It was hard enough having to deal with my own. So, having friends who were older, who knew what they wanted from life and how to get it, was actually a godsend much more than being around others who were just as lost as I was. My friends didn’t try to preach to me about how I could get where they were because they understood that I had to find my own path.

It was through these friends, like Mary, and like Ken, and like Anthony, and like April, who just sat with me during that time period, who simply talked with me and listened to me, that I was able to find what I truly needed from my life. You see, instead of misery loving company, real misery loves vicarious joy. Or at least it should. See, what I’ve found is that when miserable people get together usually they stay miserable. When you commiserate with someone else about your troubles and they also only talk about their troubles with you, it becomes a codependent cycle. But when you surround yourself with people who don’t judge you, who are just there for you, and who, through them, you can see the success that can result, it can spark you like nothing else.

Vicarious joy means basking in the joy of others’ happiness, instead of trying to bring them down to your level of misery. Vicarious joy means appreciating what others have instead of wanting to take it from them. Vicarious joy is also difficult to obtain, though, because human nature wants to tear down and not build up. That’s why it’s so exciting for me to walk down a street, or down the aisle of a store, to catch someone’s eye and see that spark of joy there. Or to catch someone’s eye and see that sign of misery, to smile a small smile, and to see that feeling change.

Because as much as misery may love company, what it really wants is to become vicarious joy, and then to transform into real joy as life goes on.

Sam