Finding Joy Beyond the Hedonic Treadmill: A Personal Journey

An introspective narrative about transitioning from pursuing wealth to finding true joy through mindful living.

George John

Jun 5, 2025

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Jun 5, 2025

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4 mins read

For much of my life, I was a marathon runner on a treadmill I neither chose nor questioned. Day by day, stride by stride, I ran after numbers that blinked in my bank account, thinking they would one day spell happiness. The world calls it the pursuit of wealth; I now know it as the hedonic treadmill.

In my pursuit, the faster I ran after money, the further it seemed to drift from my grasp. My mind was consumed with comparisons, climbing invisible ladders, endlessly raising the stakes. When I landed a raise, my satisfaction flickered, brief, elusive. Soon enough, new desires crept in, inflating what felt “normal.” The line marking “enough” always moved just out of reach.

Hedonic adaptation is sly. Evolution wired us to normalize gains and focus on the next unmet want. It means that no matter the windfall, we soon return to our emotional baseline, hungry for the next novelty, the next milestone. Like adding zeroes that never complete the equation of fulfillment.

I noticed, too, that the more desperately I clawed for money, the more elusive it grew. Stress became my companion. Anxiety was the bill I paid for every late-night hustle and ignored weekend. My health and spirit withered in the bargain. I got wealthier in numbers, perhaps, but poorer in soul.

Focusing on money as an ultimate goal is seductive, but it is a narrowing lens. Expecting it to supply joy is like asking salt to slake your thirst. The price: neglected relationships, ignored passions, fading laughter, and the uneasy sense of missing life’s meaning while chasing its tokens.

So, how does one escape this Sisyphean game?

For me, the transformation was neither sudden nor easy. It demanded waking up, pausing the treadmill and questioning the unconscious script I'd inherited from society, peers, and my own unexamined ambitions. Over time, I made conscious, sometimes uncomfortable changes, peeling back the layers of distraction masquerading as needs.

I learned to see money for what it is: a tool, not a compass. Its function is freedom, not fulfillment. True wealth, I came to realize, is not the stack of coins but the stack of days lived in alignment with my nature and values.

I began investing in relationships, taking earnest walks with friends, savoring time with family, truly listening. I gave myself permission to rest, to pursue a craft not for the applause or the reward but for the pleasure of creating. I cultivated gratitude, not as an abstract virtue but a daily, deliberate practice, pausing to recognize enough, to honor sufficiency before longing for more.

Health, neglected too long, became sacred. I moved, meditated, and breathed as though life depended on it, because it does. In tending mind and body, I found reservoirs of joy immune to the wild fluctuations of fortune.

Personal growth replaced chasing affluence. I fed curiosity, learned new skills, and measured success not by outcomes but by progress. Self-actualization turned from a distant summit to a journey composed of mindful, intentional steps.

And, ironically, as I stopped sprinting after money, abundance followed in unexpected forms. Opportunities opened up; collaborations became richer and more authentic. Freed from urgency, I could see and create value rather than extract it. My life felt lighter, my mind clearer.

Happiness, I learned, is not in the chase but in moving deliberately, in the direction of things that matter. Joy is a natural consequence of being present, authentic, connected, and at peace with oneself, unburdened by the ceaseless demands of more.

In stepping off the treadmill, I found I was always wealthier than I knew. The real riches were time, health, relationships, meaning, spaces money cannot fill but a mindful life can.

The trap was thinking money was the answer. The truth is, it’s just a question, one that invites us to ask, what do I really want to do with my fleeting, precious life? When I stopped chasing, I began to live.