WORDS: DAGA CYBRUCH
WWW.IBIZATHERAPIST.COM
PHOTOS: FROM THE PRIVATE ARCHIVE
Picture this: it’s early evening, somewhere in the Mediterranean, a woman, let’s call her Kathy, is sitting on a lounge chair on a terrace overlooking the sea, swirling a glass of her favourite rosé, a light breeze carrying the scent of figs and jasmine, the golden hour warming the landscape. In this moment, Kathy’s friend, let’s call her Lucy, says: ‘What a terrible day, I wish this year was finally over, I feel like my life is falling apart.’
‘What happened today?’ asks Kathy. And then she learns that there are legal issues in one of Lucy’s deals, the event planner for her 20th wedding anniversary party has resigned, and she’d had a big argument with her husband. Kathy nods with sympathy and pats Lucy’s arm, as if to say: ‘It’s hard, but I’m here.’ And then Lucy says: ‘I wish I were you. You seem to be so happy. Like you never have problems.’
Kathy seems taken aback. Thoughts flashing through her head: her book has been rejected by another publishing house. Her rent went up, so she has to move out — she can’t afford to stay where she’s been for several years. Next week is the third anniversary of her divorce. And yet, she does feel happy. That thought strikes her — she’s not as lucky as her friend Lucy, the owner of the gorgeous house they’re enjoying right now, but she is more content with her life. Why is that?
Isn’t it fascinating that some people seem to have it all and yet experience a sense of lack and emptiness, while others who seem less fortunate are happier? This isn’t new — psychologists, sociologists and writers have long tried to explain it, and there’s no shortage of theories. The question is complex and every case unique, but I’ve noticed some common denominators in people who genuinely feel happier. In this article, I’d like to explore one of them: attention.
Our experience of the world is shaped by how we perceive reality and ourselves, and that perception is tied to where we place our focus. Our senses are constantly stimulated, and our brains filter out what they don’t consider important in the moment. Since what we perceive directly shapes our self-image and how we create meaning, it’s worth noticing what filters we apply, and when we’re running on autopilot. We might discover these filters and ‘automatic settings’ aren’t really ours — we picked them up unknowingly, and end up living a life that doesn’t feel authentic.
We train our attention from a young age, usually without realising it. Kathy and Lucy have been friends for life, but even as little girls, they approached misfortune very differently.
They met in dramatic circumstances — crashing their bikes into each other, resulting in bruises, tears and torn dresses. Shared misery, plus some effort from their parents, turned out to be the ingredients for a close friendship. Kathy, however hurt and embarrassed, felt excitement at meeting a new friend — dreaming about her new bike’s colour, and the ice cream she’d get as consolation for her scratched knees.
Lucy — though pleased Kathy turned out to be a nice, friendly girl — couldn’t let go of her favourite dress being destroyed, and how the kids at school would mock her for being clumsy. She’d often complain to Kathy about the dress, and Kathy would gladly comfort her.
Someone might say: different temperaments, personalities, reactions. And that’s true. But it’s also the primary filter through which they perceived reality — what Kathy focused on was possibility; Lucy, on what was lacking. The same thing happened to them, yet each lived a different reality. Which one was true? Probably neither, and both — every human sees the world their own particular way.
Growing up, unconsciously, both girls strengthened their habitual response to life’s challenges and opportunities. Lucy worked hard to earn her diploma in architecture, interned at respected design studios, and after years of sacrifice, became a partner in a successful company. She always says career is her focus, and yet — she’s never reached a moment when it feels satisfying. It’s not that she hasn’t been focused enough — from the outside, she clearly has. But she hasn’t noticed how every decision she’s made has been fuelled by self-comparison, worry and “not enoughness”.
Kathy, on the other hand, changed careers several times. She never really thought of career as her focus at all — rather, she engaged in projects that felt meaningful, beyond titles or status, and even when some failed, she never felt it was wasted time. These different approaches aren’t fixed traits — they’re the result of small choices, made countless times over a lifetime. The question, and the opportunity, is whether we make those choices conscious.
To have a clear focus, we need clarity on what governs our impulses, and what unconscious biases shape our perception. Without awareness of that undercurrent, we can end up confused and dissatisfied with our lives, even after doing everything we thought was right. Other people’s opinions and borrowed perspectives can blur our focus. For Lucy, it might not have been her career that was the real focus — possibly, it was proof that she had power and control over her life. Had she been aware of that, she could have addressed it more helpfully.
We need to be radically honest with ourselves about what we look for in the world, what we avoid, and how we relate to ourselves — sometimes admitting hard truths about how our habitual thoughts and reactions work against our happiness. As we deepen and broaden our awareness, the world starts to offer more choices — not because they suddenly appear, but because we simply couldn’t see them before — and we can discover what’s truly important, and give it our utmost attention.
Let’s go back to Kathy, reflecting on her friend’s words. What if happiness — or more accurately, contentment — isn’t about whether she has problems, or about achievement, but about what she chooses to bring her attention to, and the meaning she creates as she does it? She always wanted to be a published author, and that hasn’t happened — so maybe it was never about that. Maybe her attention has simply been on the appreciation and wonder of what life has in store for her, a discovery that came after years of self-reflection, therapy, and a persistent drive to go deeper than the surface.
By no means do I want to offer a simplified diagnosis of where all our internal struggles come from. Far from that — Kathy and Lucy are an exemplification, not a formula, of something far more complex. What I hope for is that the next time you feel distracted, not getting where you’d hoped, you allow yourself to slow down and reflect on what unconscious tendency might be interfering with your vision. Sometimes slowing down does just the job.
We can lose focus, get lost, and find ourselves again if we pause and question our assumptions. Then, even without knowing why we act a certain way, or where our unconscious patterns come from, we can still choose to be different, and focus on what truly matters.
