At least half of life consists of experiences like pain, discomfort, sorrow, fear, and irritation. The war hero who jumps on a grenade saves himself from years of marital conflict, worry, arthritis, funerals of friends, and bowl/urinary incontinence. We may overvalue our lives, from a purely experimental perspective. Yet this is the only way we humans can stay afloat. Whoever was born lacking this bias toward optimism, cheer, and self-aggrandizement probably offed themselves a long time ago.
So I find little of meaning in chasing emotions like satisfaction or joy. If there is meaning, it would have to lie in what we do for one another. We have an entire culture devoted to scratching our own itches, but enduring satisfaction is an illusion and we know it.