The happiness paradox: why chasing it might actually be what keeps you from it

I used to think that once I checked enough boxes—landing the perfect job, traveling to exotic destinations, reaching my ideal weight, finding the right partner—I’d finally be happy.

For a while, that belief fueled my everyday decisions. Each morning, I’d get up with the mission of seeking something that would complete me. I kept telling myself: “Maybe if I just do this one more thing, I’ll feel fulfilled.”

And guess what? It worked…until it didn’t.

Sure, I’d feel a temporary rush after achieving some goal I’d been obsessively pursuing. But that sense of accomplishment always faded. I’d end up right back where I started—unsure, restless, and ready to chase the next thing I was convinced would bring me lasting happiness.

At some point, I began to notice a pattern: the harder I pursued happiness, the more elusive it seemed. It was like trying to chase the horizon. I could run as fast as I wanted, but I’d never actually arrive. I realized that this unrelenting pursuit was part of the problem. If anything, chasing happiness was the very thing keeping me from it.

Why chasing happiness often backfires

I’m not alone in feeling this way. There’s a real psychological principle at play here called the “hedonic treadmill.” The idea is that as soon as we achieve something, we quickly return to our baseline level of happiness and start striving for another achievement. It’s an endless cycle that often leaves us more frustrated than fulfilled.

Think about the last time you really wanted something—a promotion, a relationship, or even the latest gadget. You might have told yourself, “When I get that, I’ll be so happy.” Then you got it…only to find yourself setting your sights on something else soon after.

As psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky noted in her research on the science of happiness, external circumstances have less impact on our overall well-being than we might think. Sure, a new job or a fancy new car might boost your mood, but the effect eventually wears off. Before long, you’re craving the next upgrade.

This endless craving can become a trap. We get stuck on the idea that the solution is “out there”—some new experience, goal, or relationship—when in reality, maybe the problem lies with the chase itself.

The turning point that changed my perspective

Not too long ago, I had a particularly tough year. I was juggling projects here at HackSpirit, going through personal challenges, and pushing myself to appear happy in the midst of it all.

One day, after I wrapped up a jam-packed schedule, I slumped into a chair, absolutely spent. The thought hit me: I had everything I’d wanted years ago, but I still felt unfulfilled.

That realization stung. It made me question the very pursuit of happiness I’d been on since my early 20s. Was I doing life wrong? Was I incapable of finding lasting joy?

In a moment of honesty, I admitted to myself that no external milestone was going to magically solve my deeper sense of discontent. It was a humbling moment but also a liberating one.

The following did, however, make a real difference.

Living in the present instead of chasing the future

We’re often taught that happiness lies in the future. Work harder now, and eventually you’ll relax. Save money now, and one day you’ll retire and travel the world. Even in personal development circles, we hear a lot about delayed gratification—pushing ourselves to the max so that tomorrow, we can finally enjoy the fruits of our labor.

But the more I have studied mindfulness and Eastern philosophy, the more I have realized that the opposite is often true.

Vietnamese monk and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh once wrote, “The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.” This might sound like another catchy quote, but it holds a profound lesson: you create genuine contentment by letting yourself be fully present in each moment, not by fixating on some distant goal.

For me, mindfulness has been a game changer in this respect. When I started practicing mindfulness techniques—simple things like focusing on my breath while waiting in line at the supermarket or noticing the texture of my food before rushing through a meal—I discovered a subtle but significant shift in how I experienced life. I no longer felt as anxious about tomorrow because I was paying attention to what was happening right here and now.

Surprisingly, just slowing down enough to notice the details of daily life sparked a sense of ease and gratitude I hadn’t felt in a while.

Letting go of attachments

One of the central teachings in Buddhism is the idea of non-attachment. I wrote about this in my book, Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego.

When I first heard about non-attachment, though, I misunderstood it. I thought it meant you had to give up on goals or be apathetic. But that’s not the essence at all.

It’s about learning to pursue things without letting your sense of identity or self-worth become entangled in the outcome. You can still strive, work hard, and have desires—but without being emotionally shackled to whether or not things go exactly as planned.

What I’ve come to realize is that attachment often masks itself as ambition. I wasn’t just working toward goals—I was holding onto them with a white-knuckle grip, convinced they held the key to my happiness. And when things didn’t unfold the way I expected, it wasn’t just disappointing—it felt like a personal failure.

This shift in perspective didn’t happen overnight. But slowly, as I practiced loosening my grip—on expectations, on outcomes, on the need for everything to be a certain way—I felt a new kind of freedom. There was less pressure to “succeed” in the conventional sense, and more space to just be.

As Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön wrote, “You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather.” The more I let go of attachments to specific results, the more I realized that my core self—my sky—was always there, steady and wide open, regardless of what storms passed through.

Self-awareness

I’ve talked about this before, but self-awareness is the real catalyst for personal growth—and, as I’ve come to learn, for genuine happiness, too.

Happiness isn’t just about achieving more; it’s about understanding why we think, feel, and behave the way we do. Without that understanding, we’re just reacting—running on autopilot, repeating the same patterns, and wondering why nothing ever feels quite right.

Sometimes, though, we need someone or something else to shine a light on our blind spots. For me, this came from a conversation I had with Rudá Iandê, a renowned shaman I met by chance some years ago.

When I mentioned that I felt stuck, he encouraged me to take his free “Free Your Mind” masterclass. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the course pushed me to confront the limiting beliefs that were quietly fueling my unhappiness.

He didn’t just tell me to “think positive” or make a vision board. Instead, he guided me through deep self-inquiry—questioning why I thought a certain way, why certain triggers hit me so hard, and how my own mental patterns were sabotaging the very peace I was chasing.

That process wasn’t always comfortable—but it was necessary.

By becoming more aware of the stories I told myself, I began to loosen their grip. I realized that so much of my dissatisfaction didn’t come from my circumstances—it came from how I interpreted them. Self-awareness gave me the ability to pause, reflect, and choose a different response rather than getting swept up in old emotional cycles.

Over time, that awareness created space. Space for kindness, space for acceptance, and space for joy—not the fleeting kind that comes from checking off a goal, but a quieter, more enduring kind that came from feeling in alignment with myself.

In many ways, Rudá’s approach mirrored what I’d already discovered in my own journey running HackSpirit and writing on personal development. Yet hearing it from another perspective was refreshing. It was like shining a flashlight into parts of myself I’d never examined before—and what I found wasn’t brokenness. It was clarity.

And with clarity came something even better: peace.

Cultivating gratitude

Another practical thing that helped me a lot was starting a gratitude journal. It might sound cliché, but writing down a few things you’re thankful for at the end of the day can be an antidote to the perpetual chase.

Some days, my entries were grand, like finishing a big project or reuniting with an old friend. Other days, they were as simple as “I had an amazing cup of coffee this morning.”

By focusing on what was already good in my life, I noticed a subtle but powerful shift. My mind naturally pivoted away from what was lacking and toward what was already present. This didn’t eradicate all my problems—let’s not kid ourselves—but it did bring a sense of balance and calm I’d sorely missed.

Finding fulfillment in imperfection

Lastly, the belief that you need to have everything in perfect order before you can be happy is tempting but deeply flawed. Life is never going to be “perfect,” and waiting for it to be so only delays the contentment that could be yours right now.

Genuine fulfillment often arises when we embrace life’s messiness. This means recognizing that things might not work out exactly how we planned—and that’s okay. When we allow room for detours and mistakes, we free ourselves from the pressure to constantly strive for an unattainable ideal.

Final words

Happiness isn’t something you catch like a prize at a fair. It’s more like a state of being that emerges when we stop trying to manufacture it.

If you find yourself sprinting after happiness as though it’s a finish line, take a moment to breathe. Ask yourself whether the chasing is serving you or exhausting you.

From my own experiences—founded on years of studying psychology, diving into Eastern philosophy, running HackSpirit, and having conversations with wise teachers like Rudá Iandê—I’ve learned that letting go of the frantic pursuit can open doors you never even knew were closed.

You might discover that happiness has been quietly waiting for you to slow down, look inward, and just be. And in doing so, you may realize that the paradox is true: by releasing your grip on the very thing you crave, you just might find it landing gently in the palm of your hand.