“It isn’t what happens to us that causes us to
suffer; it’s what we say to ourselves about what happens.” ~Pema Chodron
Have you ever had something happen in your life that
completely changed everything?
Wham. Suddenly you haven’t left your bedroom in
days, you can’t remember what it feels like to shower, and it’s clear the only
friend you can really count on is your cat.
And whether it’s a major life-suck event or a
minor one, the question is: How can I feel contented and calm when things don’t
go to plan?
I’d just graduated from college. I had a Masters
Degree. In science. Human nutrition science, in case you’re
wondering. I was excited about life!
Sure, I had a ridiculous door-to-door research job
and my roommate was annoying, but I had plans—I’ll move in with my boyfriend,
get a better job, travel, start a family, hang out with all my amazing friends,
and live an awesome life.
But then I got sick. The kind of sick where raising
your arms above your head makes you want to take a nap. And instead of starting
the amazing life I’d planned, I moved home with my parents.
It was a shock, to say the least. Before that, I was
tough. I hiked. My friends liked me. I stayed up late. I wasn’t a sick
person. And while my parents are sweet and kind, living in their basement in
small town New Zealand, watching daytime re-runs of Dr Quinn Medicine
Woman, and hanging out with a fluffy cat called Whisky was notthe
plan.
It wasn’t so bad at first. But months went by, then
years, and it seemed no matter what I did, I was still sick.
I thought, why did this happen to me?
I cried. A lot. For seemingly no reason. And if
someone asked why I was crying, I’d say, “I’m just so tired.” I cried so much
some days that I’d go home and laugh with my sister on the phone over who I’d
cried in front of that day. It was comical.
That was a few years ago now. And, of course, the
whole experience turned out to be a huge gift. They often are, in my
experience, anyway, but that’s getting ahead of things.
Here are three insights that helped during those
“you’ve got to be freaking kidding me” times:
1. There’s a
healing side to pain.
When a challenging
event happens—a breakup, a sickness, or having your
leopard pink car seat covers stolen—the human mind, being what it is,
thinks this is why you feel badly.
You hear it all the time: “Oh, you poor thing for
losing your car seat covers.” Or, “She’s such a rat to do this to you.”
The truth is, it’s your perception of the
situation that makes you feel bad. This means that no matter how crumpled-in
and dysfunctional you feel, you’re not. It’s just your thoughts that are a bit
wonky. And actually, your thoughts on this were always wonky; the situation
just exposed them.
Take my situation. Everything I’d based my self-esteem on
was gone: work, grades, friends, boyfriend, the ability to sit up straight for
more than half an hour.
I thought I was upset because I was sick, when the
truth was, my situation had triggered every negative belief I had about myself.
Things like:
“I’m only lovable if people like me.” “I’m only
worthwhile if I’m
busy doing things.”
I so strongly identified with all the things I did
that when you took them away, I felt miserable. I’d been given the opportunity
to see what I really thought about myself.
Someone could have told me “you’re worthy and
lovable,” and I might have intellectually known this, but I
didn’t feel it.
What I began to realize was that behind the pain,
over time, my faulty beliefs were shifting. My sense of self-worth was
beginning to heal by itself.
The pain is the faulty belief system being
ripped out by its roots. You feel like you’re losing something dear. The trick
is to understand that it’s just a faulty belief going away. And beneath it lays
a pocket of self-love that you haven’t previously been able to access.
As poet Kahlil Gibran says, “Your pain is the
breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of
the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know
pain.”
2. Pain fades
when we let go of expectations.
Most of us live in an intellectual way. We make
plans for our life and then we try and follow them
through. We think we know the best way for our life to proceed.
The truth is, a large part of our pain is caused by
an attachment to our expectations.
For example, one of the reasons I felt so bone
achingly sorry for myself was because I had a plan for how to have a good life—and
it didn’t include Dr. Quinn.
I thought success came from going to college,
getting a good job, and having a family. No one said anything about spending
all this time in bed. But actually, it was the best thing for me.
To illustrate you how powerful your expectations
are, try this exercise:
First, imagine you’re me.
Now, imagine you’d grown up thinking the best way to
have an awesome life was to spend five years in bed cross-stitching cushions.
That it was something everyone did.
“Oh yeah,” you’d say to your friend, “I’m just off
to do my five-years-in-bed years.”
And they’d be like, “Oh cool. I hear you learn such
amazing things, like how to feel self-assured, and you get clarity on your life
direction, and you start to feel that inner calm we’re always reading about.”
Seriously.
Now think about your current situation and imagine
that for your whole life, you believed that what is happening to you was going
to happen. And not only that, but it’s the absolute best thing to happen.
So much of the pain we feel is because we
can’t let
go of
how we think life should look. Your mind thinks it knows the best way
for your life to work out—but simply put, it doesn’t; the plan it had was
flawed in the first place.
Your mind can only see your life as it’s showing up
right now. There is a bigger picture.
3. You’re
doing fine.
Learning about personal awareness and healing can be
such a helpful thing, but remember, there’s no right or wrong
way to
feel.
Feeling grateful and “being positive” and so on is
perfectly fine, and sure, it can be helpful, but if you don’t feel like it all
the time, don’t worry about it.
Instead of attaching a judgment to how you’re
feeling or what you’re thinking, try just noticing it.
I believe the act of simply noticing and accepting how
things are, right now—no matter how messy and dysfunctional they seem—is the
most powerful, healing thing you can do.
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