Dear Life,
So, I know I put it out there that there's all this hard stuff...without getting too specific. You already know. Everybody has stuff. Everybody is dealing with a thing...or two...or nine...or infinity (feels like it escalates that quickly, no?). I don't need to get graphic. People hurt. People bear grief. Deep pain. Wild confusion. Standing on the precipice of 'what if'. No one is alone in that regard. Still, I've had too many different instances in recent weeks to dismiss this emerging theme. Moments where I'm having the same thoughts post-conversation, or wishing that I had bigger arms in which to wrap up all of these people who I love and care about. But don't just give me bigger arms, Life. Not unless they come with Michelle Obama shoulders...then, yah, ok, I'll take them gladly.
Maybe you don't know that I've had this long-standing thing where people talk to me. Yes, I'm in a professional role where it's not uncommon for people to come to talk to me about things that are happening in the workplace, but this knack that I'm describing runs WAY deeper than work. I mean, people I've JUST MET someway somehow feel comfortable trusting me with their STUFF. Their gnarly, intimate, tangled, like, maybe you should see your priest or your therapist STUFF. And not because I'm soliciting them to tell me, they just do. They just have for almost as long as I can remember in the most random of places: concerts, planes, grocery store lines, parks, stairwells, and public transportation. Because of this long history, I can't say that my Counseling & Guidance degree made that pattern more frequent, I think if anything during the pursuit of that degree, the curriculum developed my skill to ask questions or to be more readily able to ask questions with the intent to better understand the feelings of the other person. However, I can't help but feel like sometimes I know too much - things that I wish I did not know; heavy, horrible things that make me cry on the way home, or lay awake at night wondering about how that person is doing. But, I also, in a weird way feel like, given that history, it's kind of my calling. And that I would rather know the story, or be the one to hear these things than face the stark alternative of what it would be like for that person not to have someone to listen to them, not to hear their story or the weight of not having the support they need to carry on.
I know the holidays in particular are hard for people. When we find ourselves in that space between Thanksgiving and Christmas when magic is supposed to be happening, it often serves as a harsh reminder for many. We just never know. But even outside of holiday-ness, day to day when things hit, we can/may feel alone. We may turn inwardly to deal. Like circling the wagons, don't let anything else in or out. Our thoughts or feelings may turn to isolation because we don't know what else to do. We don't need judgment or telling the story for the howevermanyieth time. We may tell ourselves that no one gets it, that no one understands, that no one has ever before lived through this kind of whatever. And now, at this place in my life, (not to be rude or to even try to pretend that I know all things) I realize that that's not the reasonable or even likely truth. Really. NO ONE has ever had an addicted friend/loved one/family member? NO ONE has ever lost a loved one before you? NO ONE has ever had a failed relationship? Or been cheated on? Or been in a job that felt frustrating? Or faced drama? Or financial stress? Or dealt with someone who is cruel? Or LOST a job? Or is struggling with mental illness? Or abuse? Or loved someone who didn't love you or had someone love you that you didn't want? Or had an issue with a family member that was really hard? NO ONE??? Ok, fine, I get that it may be more that YOU have never gone through this stuff and so therein lies the reasoning behind why it feels like maybe no one has dealt with it, but to REALLY think that NO ONE ELSE EVER IN THE HISTORY OF HUMANKIND has discovered a related or similarly nuanced issue is a blind and unhelpful perception. I think the possible follow-up may be equally blind - to think that there is nothing/no one to help you is like standing in the middle of Disneyland on its busiest day - literally, thousands of people standing shoulder to shoulder - with your eyes squeezed shut screaming 'I'm here all alone!!'.
Just recently NPR did a piece on dread and how it's not necessarily a bad thing to make time to consider what it is in our individual lives. Or set some scheduled time aside to think about it, and then pause when that time is up.
Initially, holistically in an emotionally equivalent kind of way, I thought perhaps that suggestion to schedule time was a reasonable approach. I took it in and thought 'yah, it's a decent compromise' - it's not saying 'forget about it, you're fine.' It was saying, yah, there's stuff. Instead of your concern becoming a vortex of every waking moment and thought, limit it to a place and time that works for you. That was my interpretation speaking live from my own vortex. Then, after reading the comments ("Are you serious, I'm dealing with all of the other stuff, now I have to make time for dread, too?") I respect that what seems like simple suggestions may feel less like grains of sand and more like K2 to add to an already grueling coping strategy. I realize that much like this piece, suggestions are just that - suggestions.
Truth: There's never a one size fits all that really succinctly, whole-heartedly works for everyone.
We each have our own way of coping, but I also think that there are people who struggle directly because they haven't been introduced to coping skills or tools. I specifically observe that a lot of men I meet or men I am close to are in that category. There are social roles and norms under which we are raised. Boys are often discouraged from or shamed for any show of emotion, yet they feel everything. It's not uncommon for adult men in this age to have been raised in an environment where they are not conditioned to feel or accept/handle emotions. They may have been told to squash their feelings. Or to 'man up'. Their own fathers/parents may have shown them how it's done. Pretending there are no feelings doesn't help.
I have a friend who has seen some hairy things in the last year. Things that have devastated him. He's gone through the motions. He's told himself that he just needs to snap out of it. My exposure to life, to people, to counseling theory intuitively says it's not that easy. If we keep doing the thing, ignoring the pain, thinking it'll just go away, the wound won't heal. It'll scab over. Then, it'll just keep opening up every time it's bumped. And it'll hurt and bleed. Think on that. Keep in mind that there's a mental, emotional, AND physiological response to trauma. It's not just all in your head.
I know that there can be a stigma surrounding therapy, but really...there are some things that should be talked about. Not necessarily as a means of psychoanalysis, but there are just some things that are super cathartic if you can just SAY them or hear yourself talk through the issue.
Sometimes people think 'I don't need to say it. It's enough to just think it. And think on it for a long time.' But you know what it's like when you just have a conversation in your head and it's missing the dialog of another person - that unknown response. Consider therapeutic exercises where people write letters and read them out loud and then burn them. There is power in speaking words, in letting them out, and as a means to finding peace.
A past colleague of mine reached out a few months ago. She had made a decision to apply for a position outside of the company we had both worked for and even though we weren't super close, she initiated a conversation to talk about where we were and where we were going/had gone. A handful of times while we were reflecting on some of the challenges we had faced, she said 'I thought I was the only one.' No. That call was helpful for both of us. Closing a chapter is hard. There are usually some really good things about the situation, things that you weigh in the choice of staying or going. And we sometimes rationalize things: maybe if I keep doing the same thing it will magically change, if just stick it out it'll somehow get better. Maybe it'll be different. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe not. The point is that had we not talked, chances are neither of us would have realized the full extent of the challenges we faced, or the hope in walking through a new, different door (bringing with us, of course, the lessons we've learned along the way). The talking about it helped. Now, for clarity, I am NOT saying trash all the things - I acknowledge that there are some things from which you really cannot walk away. In those cases, it may be more about changing thoughts or learning emotional coping strategies to protect your own heart/mind than it is about walking away. It depends. In this case, it was right for me to change jobs. The timing was right for my colleague to explore other companies. We both felt like making that change was right for us individually.
We get into situations where we know our broken. Even if it's not ideal we are so familiar with its edges, what places you can touch without cutting your fingers off, and what parts are just no-go zones. We think 'I can manage in this. At least I have something that I know (fine, held together with gum, some duct tape, a little hot glue, and some melted wax - but held together (kinda) all the same) and am not without something. At least I have a job, a relationship, a WHATEVER. I discussed this concept with a friend. He looked at me with frankness in his eyes. "Are you done?" he asked me. I closed my mouth tight. "What you're describing is settling. Both of us know you can and should do better than that for yourself." He was right. In that moment, for me, the concept of comfort in brokenness could not become my truth. In that moment, the hard reality was the catalyst toward what was the right decision for me.
Therapy is not a process by which you go in and a person says, 'here's your problem, this is how you fix it.' No. It would probably be way easier if that were the case. Therapists ask open questions. In your response, in your telling of your own narrative, in remembering the cast members of your life, you come to remember some things or realize patterns that only you can discern. The therapist is there to listen, to ask questions, to suggest some exercises, to help you navigate through the process as you learn your own coping skills to let things go. At your own pace. When you are ready.
I feel like in general, I've made peace with my past. Good, bad, or indifferent, it's made me who I am today. From that perspective, I can forgive wrongs - of others and of my own. Lots of my own. And PLEASE don't get me wrong - I'm not saying 'Look at how awesomely cope-ey I am!!' or 'My life is entirely unicorns and sparkly rainbows made of perfect M.A.C. pigments and winning lottery numbers!!' I'm saying I'm still figuring things out and there are a couple of approaches that really work for me, that really help me. And I feel like given the banana-ness of our world and the pace at which we sprint EVERY DAY, it's important to know we're not alone, and that there is help.
I am a proponent of therapy. I've had a handful of therapists throughout the course of my life. I've found (and this is key) that when I'm REALLY honest with myself and share those truths, great work comes about. In one session, my therapist asked a question that hit a poignant place in my heart. I became unexpectedly emotional. I sat quietly in the cushy chair, tears streaming down my face as my heart burst open. I needed a minute to collect myself as the rush of thoughts came to the surface. I hadn't seen how tender this place was in my life. I didn't see this response coming. He asked me why it had that effect on me. Initially, I meekly offered up 'I don't know' as the tears were difficult to stop and I felt exposed. But he knew what he was doing, he waited patiently for me to find my voice. I really wanted to do the work, and I asked for a moment to further consider it. I wanted to know why. Why did it suddenly bother me? Why did I allow it to hit me in that way after I had seemingly had no issue with that specific thing/topic for YEARS?
We don't have all the answers as we climb over the terrain of our lives. And sometimes things happen to us that feel like a baseball bat in full swing to the face. Pain is without prejudice. It lays thickly over everyone. Some have had good examples of how to push through, or how to pause. Some have not. In my case, I've tried to hash through things to the best of my ability only to realize MUCH later that they really weren't resolved. That happens to us sometimes. Have you ever been in a thing and not really understood a word or a punchline or really what's happening? And then maybe YEARS later the circle connects and the world (even in a little way) makes more sense than it did the moment before? Those realizations are not always positive. Sometimes they're a harsh truth. And even if you feel like you've relatively hashed through all of your stuff, you may find yourself one day in a position where it feels scattered AGAIN and you can't sort it out. Talk to someone. Seriously. It's ok. Please also understand that not all therapists are created equally, so finding one who jives with you may take some time which may seem counterintuitive and frustrating, but the human dynamic is not an exact science. One approach is to try group sessions of therapy - if your trauma has come from exposure to alcoholism, or as a result of an illness (say, Alzheimer's or Cancer), there are SO MANY groups out there that are meant to help.
I think NPR's point is that life gets impossibly hard. Please don't ignore things. Please know that there are resources to help alleviate suffering. Mental health is both real and important. There are different ways to work through a/the problem. Just think on it like this - you may be an expert at biochemistry, but you may not be super great at filing taxes or speaking Spanish, but you CAN learn both the rules and processes of taxation AND take lessons to learn the basics of Spanish. And even if it takes you forever to understand the way these things work, or even if the new words you're learning or trying to use feel weird or you feel foolish trying - totally normal. The point is to keep trying. Coping skills are just like that. And yes - you could get a book on coping skills or listen to a podcast, and both of those things are good. Going TO the therapist gives you a very personalized approach. They listen, they direct. They listen, they direct. Over and over. Until you feel like you're getting closer to the peace you seek. They're a partner in the discerning steps. And to draw on the parallel of learning another subject (taxation and/or Spanish) the more you do it, the better you will be at it. Really. Even if it feels like it sucks at the beginning. You'll get it.
I think a needed follow-up to my comment earlier about taking people's troubles and wrapping my brain around them requires a postscript: I DO listen in earnest to the things people share with me, and I DO feel for them, empathize, consider intently what I can do to help, because I care. I love. I just do. It's who I am. And the manifestation of emotions in considering that person/those people is the way that I process. It's the double-edged sword of being compassionate. I just feel like I know how to bear those things constructively. I don't hold them up forever or catalog them or grip them with the intent to use them later. I stay in the moment with the person. I ask them for permission to hug them. I bring an authentic heart to a space into which they invite me. Usually, later, I think about how incredible of a person they are. I think about how the things they've shared with me create pain or hardship. I think about how much I love that person. And I can't help but feel like my heart breaks for them. This is when there are tears. I don't feel like they are wasted. Tears are a part of who I am, they are the icing on the cake of my emotions. I shed tears when I'm happy. I shed tears when I laugh too hard. I just do. I'm not uncomfortable with them, nor do the tears or emotions of others make me uncomfortable. And after they're done, after I wipe them away, after I've heard the stories and had the afterthoughts, I let them go. That's not to say that I don't remember them, I do, but the point is that I'm not meant to carry the burden FOR the person. I share it in a moment, and then (of course depending on the person or the situation) I can lay it down.
For sake of continuing the conversation, and respecting that everyone works on a different timeline at a different pace, there are more ways than one to deal with stuff. The NPR piece talked about writing things down, drawing it (if that's more constructive for you), scheduling time to think on or address it, and also about connecting. And there are SOOO many ways to connect. It's beautiful that we can connect in nature, or with animals, or with people we love, or with strangers who have similar interests. All of us are stumbling through trying to make sense of things - I've not met a single person who doesn't have something on their plate or who are 100% winning at life. We all have stuff. There are so many free resources out there - if your employer has an Employee Assistance Program (EAP) you may be able to access counseling resources for free or at a reduced rate and keep in mind those programs are not limited to discussions about emotional concerns.
My very long-winded point is that there are solutions that are just right for you. That you are not alone. That there are people who care and want to help.
xoxo,
J.
