Doin the right thing....

"People say 'what ever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger'. Even as people say this they must realize that the exact opposite is true. What doesn't kill you maims you, cripples you, leaves you weak, makes you whiny and full of yourself at the same time."

This sounds so harsh and negative, but I think it's pretty spot on. What doesn't kill you does make you weaker, less able to deal with your life in many cases. It can sever connections you had with people as you no longer exist in the form you used to, and it rips your heart out. Your innocence is lost a little more each time life throws you a curve ball. 



I read this today too:

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable."

So maybe suffering alone is what is so crippling, so devastating to us, but the way we react to it, both through our choices, but also through innate emotional processes, can bring us to a place of greater strength.

The last part speaks to me the most: remaining open and vulnerable. Life teaches us to keep our hearts closely guarded because life hurts. Life is often wonderful too, but there is inevitable pain all around us. We get pretty good at walking away from things before they get a chance to hurt us, and we miss alot as a result. It's so easy to become jaded, wearing armor of cynicism. But pain takes away this armor temporarily, and we are stripped naked whether we want to be or not. And it's then that you are completely open to others, even right in the middle of some kind of tragedy. And it's usually then that you are often the recipient of unfathomable kindness. I think kindness, though it doesn't cause us pain, is a force that makes us uncomfortable and puts us on guard, so it's only when we're vulnerable that we fully experience it.



This passage says it all:

“I was helpless in trying to return people's kindness, but also helpless to resist it. Kindness is a scarier force than cruelty, that's for sure. Cruelty isn't that hard to understand. I had no trouble comprehending why the phone company wanted to screw me over; they just wanted to steal some money, it was nothing personal. That's the way of the world. It made me mad, but it didn't make me feel stupid.  Accepting all that kindness, though, made me feel stupid. Human benevolence is totally unfair. We don't live in a kind or generous world, yet we are kind and generous. We know the universe is out to burn us, and it gets us all. We are kind people in an unkind world, to paraphrase Wallace Stevens. How do you pretend you don't know about it, after you see it? How do you go back to acting like you don't need it? How do you even the score and walk off a free man? You can't. I found myself forced to let go of all sorts of independence I thought I had, independence I had spent years trying to cultivate. That world was all gone, and now I was a supplicant, dependent on the mercy of other people's psychic hearts.

I think being forced into vulnerability by your pain, and admitting that you are in fact dependent on connections with other people, their kindness, their knowledge of intimate portions of you, is one of the greatest things suffering does for us. Building on this experience is what adds to our own humanity.

Being

Every morning for what seems like a good portion of last year I woke up with a knot in my stomach. My alarm clock went off and I curled into a ball, trying to disappear into the blankets. I hit the snooze button for as long as I possibly could before crawling out of bed to face the day. I lay there and made a mental list of why I felt so fearful of going out into the world. Some days there were realities present that made the anxiety understandable, though on a much smaller scale: a work presentation, a difficult conversation on the horizon, things that are generally unpleasant to most people. But there were no definable circumstances that explained the palpable sense of dread I so often felt, the nonspecific and diffuse uneasiness with life.

I had many options to help me cope with this all-consuming feeling of unquiet that persisted all day: therapy, pills, alcohol, vanity, sex, shopping, social activities, work, exercise, the passive consumption of media. If I engaged in enough of these things, patching them together in various ratios, I made it through the day. But just barely. I would also frequently take stock of all my accomplishments and incessantly list all the reasons I should be happy, full, satiated with the safety of knowing I’m a functioning member of society that has everything most people want. I had a solid career, a Master’s degree, artistic talents, intelligence, health and physical fitness, a car, many friends and acquaintances, an abundance of memories of travel and adventures. I counted these blessings, and acknowledged I’d done nothing special to earn them. They would momentarily reassure me but never give me lasting peace. The other available option was to numb myself to the swirling dissatisfaction with daily life by shutting down emotionally. I became very proficient in the use of this technique I’m sorry to say, spending some days on total and complete auto pilot, staring off into the distance as time passed.

Like most people I used a combination of all these things to keep the demons at bay. And needless to say it was tiring and redundant and useless. I wasn’t very good at it.

I think the anxiety came from many things: my emotional isolation, the hesitation to trust others, to connect and breathe them in, without fear of disappointment or rejection. It came from the deep sense of lack I experienced as a result of hoarding my failures and regrets and broken dreams, leaving little room for growth or joy. It sprang forth from hanging on to the past as though it had any meaning and balancing it with an obsession for what hope the future might bring. It came from the voice of self-loathing that told me who to be, and why I would never deserve good things. And this isn’t right. I know it’s not meant to be like this. 

I believe that when necessary, the universe will always bring you to a place where you have nothing left to do but accept your vulnerability……. and trust. Maybe that’s how my growth eventually started, I’m not sure. I know several people crossed my path that helped me see that the doors of my prison are all locked from the inside. But I’m learning more and more how to live like a human being in several ways.

I’ve been trying to practice the art of doing things that I would rather not do in most cases, things that go against my intuitions or my knee-jerk reactions. I’m making a more conscious effort to forgive people, and treat them as though they’ve never hurt me, starting with a clean slate. Apologizing to people, even for very old transgressions, and being honest when my intentions were less than noble. Doing things that scare me and taking risks, but also being okay when the worst outcome happens. Being more authentically myself and exposing my vulnerabilities in an effort to build a true connection to others. Giving to people and not expecting anything in return.

And doing all these things, it’s not going so badly.

I don’t wake up feeling the weight of my own mind anymore, although I still have plenty of moments of confusion and regression and doubt. But I’ve never felt more sure that I’m making progress and heading in the right direction.

I’m getting better and better at being a human and I know the universe will give me what I need to stay on this track.