Pushkin. Imagine you're at a cocktail party and you're getting to know someone new. You've just asked the stranger's name and where they're from. What's the next question out of your mouth as you try to learn more about this person? If you're like most people, you might have thought to ask, so what do you do? And you probably didn't mean that question, as in, what do you do for fun? Or what do you do to relax? Or what do you do when you want to feel happier? You probably meant that query to imply, what do you do for work? And we ask this question because, at least implicitly, we think our jobs kind of matter for who we are. And not just because being a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher or a podcaster helps us put food on the table. These days, we often think of our jobs not just as a means to an end, but as a deep reflection of who we are. More and more, our work identities wind up taking center stage as a fundamental part of our identities, of how we think of ourselves as people. And lately, especially as I've been navigating my own sense of burnout and overwhelm, I've been wondering, is this conception of our jobs actually a good thing? Do we really want our work selves to be the main character in our lives? So in this installment of our special New Year season of The Happiness Lab, we'll be exploring what our wise inner voices might be quietly trying to tell us about our relationship with work, and whether it's finally time to gently reevaluate the identity we get from what we do. Our minds are constantly telling us what to do to be happy. But what if our minds are wrong? What if our minds are lying to us, leading us away from what will.

Really make us happy?

The good news is that understanding the science of the mind can point us all back in the right direction. You're listening to the Happiness Lab with Dr. Laurie Santos.

There's this narrative that we should keep searching and never settle. And if your job isn't perfect, then there's something wrong, and you should keep looking for a new one. And it creates massive expectations and also is dangerous.

This is author and overwork expert Simone Stalzoff. Simone is no stranger to the question of how work fits into our identities. In fact, it's a worry he's been personally trying to navigate for over a decade.

As a 22 year old at the University of Pennsylvania, I was studying poetry and economics. And so from an early age, there was already this tension between the pursuit of art and the pursuit of commerce. And I got the opportunity to interview my favorite writer in the entire world. He's this poet named Anise Mojgani. He's actually the current poet laureate of the state of Oregon. And I was so excited for this interview, and I wanted Anise to give me a pep talk. Here I was, this 22 year old young poetry student about to embark on an unknown future, and I wanted him to give me that vote of confidence to pursue something that I love. And so I asked him, how do you feel about the mantra, love what you do and never work a day in your life? And he said something that really surprised me and has stuck with me since. He said, some people love what they do, and other people do what they have to do so that they can do what they love when they're not working. And neither is more noble. And I think that last part is key. We love to revere people whose identities and their jobs neatly align. But I think Anise's wisdom was telling me that the other side of the equation, treating a job as a means to an end, is no less noble. It's nothing to fear. Being the young, naive college student that I was, I sort of did not heed his advice and spent my entire 20s looking for that vocational soulmate, looking for that job that would help me self actualize. And so I worked in advertising, I worked in tech, and I worked in food, and I worked in journalism, all the while looking for this perfect job that will help me become the fullest version of myself.

Eventually, Simone's search for his sacred calling came to a head. He found himself at a career crossroads when he was forced to choose between a long term gig as a journalist at a trendy magazine and a higher paying role at a design firm. The decision felt overwhelming.