Chapter Content
Okay, so, like, to wrap things up, I really wanted to talk about building a community of flourishers. Because, honestly, one of the best ways to, you know, learn to flourish – and to keep flourishing – is to surround yourself with people who are doing the same thing.
Remember Scott, the prison guard I talked about? Well, when we spoke, I was really curious about how *he* knew he had changed. And he just laughed and said it was super obvious to everyone around him.
He told me this story about finding marijuana in his teenage son's backpack. He said, the *old* Scott would have totally lost it. Like, screaming, punishments, grounding… the whole nine yards. He would have been furious for hours, right?
But the *new* Scott? He just took the weed out, sat down, and thought about it. Later, when he was calm, he went to talk to his son. His son, of course, knew something was up. He was probably bracing for the explosion. But Scott just sat down and asked him, "What's going on? Are you okay? Are you making good choices? Is your friend group a problem?"
And his son just, like, broke down. He knew he was messing up, hanging out with the wrong people, skipping workouts, letting his schoolwork slide. He felt out of control, but didn't know how to fix it. So they talked it all through, you know, really connected. And at the end, they hugged. His son was, like, so relieved that he wasn't screamed at. He was, like, "Wow, this new dad is pretty great!"
And, you know, pretty soon his son was back on track, hitting the gym, studying more, and hanging out with good friends. You could even say he was starting to flourish, right? The best part? That conversation, that moment of understanding, trust, and support, it wasn't just a one-off thing. It became a regular thing for them. They started to really treasure their bond, and they kept having those kinds of conversations.
So, Scott really did it. His own shift in perspective, it helped him see how important flourishing can be. And his commitment to his own well-being led him to help other people flourish too. His whole approach to parenting and family life changed, which, in turn, helped them flourish. And his job? Well, he went from just restricting inmates to helping them find their own freedom, the freedom to flourish. His ability to flourish, it led him to help everyone around him.
Then, there was Nicole, a former student of mine. She had this great story about turning down tenure-track offers from prestigious universities. But she didn't want to leave the town she’d settled in. And you might be wondering "Why not?"
Well, she got pregnant during the pandemic, right? She started walking around the neighborhood and meeting other families. And when she had her baby, she felt so much support from her neighbors. They brought over meals, offered advice, and just helped with everything. She felt this amazing sense of community, you know?
She said that maybe something she learned in my class years ago helped her make her decision. Before, she probably would have jumped at the most prestigious offer. She would have uprooted her family, chased the so-called "glory" that everyone expected. Her own brother even told her she was crazy to turn them down.
But something inside her knew that chasing that external success wouldn't make her happy. And, actually, her current employer, they knew she was feeling a little undervalued. So they offered her a huge raise and a flexible schedule so she could spend time with her baby. She’s thriving, happily married, enjoying motherhood, and surrounded by people who love and support her. She found her own community of flourishers, partly because she made the decision to prioritize her own well-being. And that's, like, not something you give up.
So, I wanted to end this, thinking about your beginning. I remember a friend once said that being a parent is mostly about nudging your kids back to the center. If they stray off the path, you gently guide them back. I love that. And I feel like my calling is to nudge people towards flourishing. Why *not* aim for the stars?
Flourishing has become my North Star, guiding me home. Sometimes it's hidden by clouds, but I know where it is, and I know I have to keep aiming for it. Sometimes the path ahead seems unclear, right? A lot of us have felt lost, unable to break free from negative patterns, maybe even feeling invisible. But you can be found; I promise you. You're not a ghost. I see you.
I know what it feels like to be invisible. And the research that led to this, it was kind of a "me search." I wanted to turn my own emptiness into something meaningful, something that would help others. This book, and the research behind it, is the result of a decision I made when I was a kid: I decided that one day I would be seen, fully seen.
I was basically invisible from a young age. My grandmother, who adopted me, told me she found me nearly dead in my crib when I was a baby. My mother had disappeared shortly after giving birth. My grandmother found me and my sister alone after days. I was diagnosed with pneumonia. My grandmother wanted me to know I was a fighter. She told me that nothing could stop me but me.
Then, when I was around sixteen, I met my biological mother for the first time. My sister wanted to meet her, but I didn't. I remember the car pulling up with my mother, her husband, and their three children. I was in shock. I didn't know she had another family. I met my half-siblings and talked to my mother. I don't remember what we said. But I remember feeling this strong longing for something I'd never have: my mother's love, her attention. That kind of longing creates a deep emptiness that can't be filled. It's the essence of languishing.
Then there was the "complex PTSD," as therapists call it. My father remarried, and things were good at first with my stepmother. But once she had her own kids, something changed. She became physically abusive to me and my sister, but never to her own children. It went on for years. Eventually, her brother noticed something was wrong. He told my grandparents, who took us out of that house.
Adverse childhood experiences, ACEs, they make you feel like the world is trying to erase you, make you invisible. They take almost everything good from you just to survive. I'm a story of resilience, but not the pretty kind. My resilience, born from hunger and languishing, it fueled my determination to be seen.
I became a first-generation college graduate and got a PhD from the University of Wisconsin–Madison. I got a grant from the MacArthur Foundation to research social well-being, to map out what makes a flourishing life.
Before me, nobody really studied mental *health*. They studied mental *illness*. Mental health was an empty category. Everything I've done as a scholar has been to make visible what was invisible – not just mental health, but myself.
Flourishing has been my North Star, my gift, and now I'm giving it to you. Let's remember that even in brokenness, there's the possibility for healing, growth, discovery, and gifts. This book is my story from languishing to flourishing, from invisible to fully seen. And I hope you can find your own path to flourishing.
So, this book is also about changing how we measure, think about, and approach mental health. Flourishing, simply put, is the presence of good mental health. Languishing is the absence of it.
The challenge we face is that there's too much mental illness and not enough flourishing. Too much funding goes to studying the biology of mental illness, and not enough to studying mental health. It's a huge mistake.
It reminds me of this Native American story about two wolves. An elder tells a young boy that we're all made up of two wolves: an aggressive, angry wolf and a kind, friendly wolf. They're constantly battling inside us.
The boy asks, "Which one wins?"
The elder says, "Always the one you feed."
We, as a nation, are feeding the wolf of illness and death, not the wolf of health and life. We're prioritizing the wrong things.
If we could cure all mental illness tomorrow, it wouldn't be enough. The absence of mental illness doesn't equal the presence of good mental health. Good mental health isn't a null category. It's filled with things like purpose, belonging, contribution, self-acceptance, good relationships, autonomy, and personal growth. It's filled with what makes life worth living.
I know why I'm here. And this book is just another beginning. The next steps are up to you. So, I want to end with a challenge, based on a quote from Robert F. Kennedy:
"Some [people] see things as they are and say why? I dream things that never were and say, why not?"
Don't be satisfied with languishing. Don't just read this and learn why. That's a good start, but it's not enough. I want you to dream of what could be and ask, "Why not?" Fight for your flourishing. Work past your pain, your loneliness, your emptiness. Let the light in. Believe in the path forward, and take steps to get there every day. Trust that there's something more beautiful around every corner ahead. Flourishing, and nothing less, is what you deserve.