Tuesday, February 18, 2020
Learning to be OK with things not being OK
Last year, if you were to have asked me how I was, I would probably have lied and told you I was fine. I would do the thing people expect when they ask how you're doing; give the simple "Great!" answer to the question so the conversation can move along with ease.
What I would've wanted to say, really and truthfully and yes, as awkwardly as it might be in the moment, is that things suck and, oh yeah, 2019 could go straight to hell. I would've wanted to tell you that the universe had decided that was the year to throw all the hard things at me; to set my life ablaze in the most spectacular fashion of stress, loss, exhaustion, illness, and literal fire.
My list of "why everything sucked last year" isn't what I want to talk about today. I don't want to tally all the ugly and hard and painful as a ploy for sympathy. Everyone has ugly and hard and painful in their lives. My pain doesn't make me special; it makes me human. And that's the part I want to talk about; being a human who went through those things and came out on the other side better, stronger, wiser, and yes, happier.
Phase 1: I like to call this...
- The Dark
- The Infinite Ugh, the Never ending Sigh
- And That Time in Life When Ice Cream is the Answer to Everything
When you're tired and broken and burned out, everything is more difficult. Life requires more out of you than you're capable of giving because you're depleted. Little stresses suddenly feel gigantic and earth shattering. Everyday things like grocery shopping seem absolutely impossible. People you know and love can become too much to handle. Almost everything requires more energy than you have to provide. Existing, in and of itself, is exhausting.
And when you're going through all of this, it's easy to get in a state of anger, frustration, and sadness. Complaining, pfft - that's even better, because right now everything in your immediate world sucks and there's nothing not to complain about, right? I feel you 100%.
This is the dark, the trenches, the time for lessons.
This is something Life will occasionally require from you, for you, so that you can become the best version possible of yourself.
Phase 2: I like to call this...
- The Light
- The Ah-ha's and Okay's
- The "Enlightenment is the Answer to Everything" stage
For me, healing last year was not speedy; I was not speedy. I was not convenient. I sulked and screamed and cried and vented. And finally (finally!) made it through to the other side. In fact, if I'm being honest, I tried writing this post months ago, when I still still in the midst of my emotions, but I couldn't. I just could not.
I can now because I made it to the light; I'm back living in the light, to be more specific.
Here is what I know:
Sometimes, in the midst of your own personal wildfire, all you can do is burn. Later, comes the healing. Later comes the growth.
The pushback, the anger, the sadness, the fury at the situations that you keep being thrust into do nothing. The universe doesn't shy away at your anger. It continues, day in and day out. It persists while you resist - and the only loser is you. A lesson that has to be learned is taught, one way or another. Some of us are slow learners. I certainly am.
Last year, I was all of those things, and you better believe I resisted all those lessons like my life depended on it, because that was how it felt. I fought back against the wildfires of my life with anger and tears, all the while not realizing that my only option was to burn. To become ash and soot and start over again. That the harder I fought, the slower the lessons would come, the more painful the blaze.
Friends, it's OK to not be OK.
If that's where you are right now, be there. Feel this place you're in. I mean it - feel it like a blanket wrapped around you. Not one of those soft, cozy ones either. You don't feel soft and cozy, do you? No, no you do not. Feel it like it is. Like one of those annoying scratchy mo-fo's that feels the way nails sound on a chalkboard. (You just cringed, I know you did. Now you're getting it.)
Lean into the pain. Lean in hard, like you're back at the playground waiting for the opposing line of kids to send your specified Red Rover over, who's trying to break through your grasp. In this scenario, however, you are the red rover and you are the lines of hands, all clasped together. You are both fighting to hold on to what you know and struggling to get past the discomfort of change. But which is right?
In this case, neither.
In this game of Red Rover, you win by stopping and by letting go of your grip. You win by standing still and embracing what is instead of what is not. You win by allowing the wind to direct your course, much the way it directs a fire in the wild. You win by feeling all the feelings and not running from them, not forcing them to change. You win because you embrace them, thus learning from them.
I used a lot of metaphors today, so I'm gonna go ahead and call it a day. I think you get the picture.
I hope your 2020 is incredible. I hope you have nothing but happiness and success. But if you're struggling or if you don't quite feel the way you would like, just know you're not alone. You are strong and you will make it through whatever life throws your way.
I believe in you. Believe in yourself, too.
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