it’s almost like (maybe) it will be ok
In the last week or so, for the first time in a long time, I have felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just perhaps, things are going to be ok. And by ok I mean maybe I won’t feel like I’m drowning for the rest of my life. Because that has been the prevailing feeling of the last three or so years.
(This entire piece is likely to be a wild mess of mis-labelling thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and emotions, because while sometimes those things seem easy to tease apart, sometimes they are a wild messy storm that cross over one another and overlap in ways that make all of the sense in the world, and no sense at all… all at the same time. Also, this is my story, I am not a healthcare professional, or an academic, and defining terms like those seems to be something even humans with decades of study are still arguing over.)
Of course I have known that it was unlikely I would feel like this forever. I have wonderful humans who remind me of that as often as I need to hear it (the sort of humans who know you deeply enough that you believe them when they say it, not the strangers in the street who you want to slap because it feels dismissive when they say it).
I’ve surrounded myself with other reminders, and worked on catching unhelpful thoughts so I can reframe them where possible to something kinder, gentler, more helpful.
But feeling it deep in my bones is another thing entirely.
In the last week or so, a number of big things have shifted, or fallen into place, that have brought genuine relief, and hope that things will be ok.
I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few years trying to coerce myself into feeling ok. As though being able to do that would speed up the process of whatever it is I’ve been moving through. As though that were a thing that would be even remotely possible.
I know that “the way out is through” that emotions are messengers, and accepting them and allowing ourselves to feel them is important and healthy.
But I’ve also felt like I’m surrounded with messaging from people whose platforms revolve around proclaiming that feeling a certain way will mean you feel more of that thing and that that’s the key to good feelings all of the time. Just choose to feel good, then feel more of that.
As if feelings are something you can just pluck off a bookshelf at a time of your choosing and only hold onto the ones you want to keep.
Maybe there are people who can do that.
I am not someone who can do that.
Yes, I can perform a feeling for other people. I can smile, make jokes, and convince you that I’m feeling the way you think I am. I do it around people who’ve made it clear that they’re uncomfortable with anyone who is expressing anything other than “pleasant” emotions, or people who just don’t feel safe to share my emotionally squishier parts with.
I do it around people I’ve just met because that’s our unspoken social contract isn’t it? Be pleasant, be nice, keep it light, don’t scare each other too quickly with the breadth and complexity of our humanity.
But it’s not real. And increasingly, for me at least, it’s not helpful.
The more comfortable I become with my own uncomfortable emotions, the less willing I am to perform for others, or to take their attempts to reframe, fix, or change me.
I’m not suggesting we trauma dump two minutes into meeting new people, or that it’s not important for trust to be earned.
I am just suggesting that it’s ok to feel whatever it is we’re feeling, for as long as we need to feel it.
I’m also suggesting that if someone does trust you with some insight into how they’re feeling, and it’s a little uncomfortable, you don’t have to try and shift them out of that place. At least not without their consent.
I think we all benefit when we make space for the complexity of our humanity, and the range of emotions we move through. I think we all benefit when we’re given the time and support we need to allow our challenging seasons to be what they need to be rather than trying to race through them towards some invisible finish line.
And if that feels new and challenging, here are a few of the things we ask each other around here when someone shares something tricky or uncomfortable with us:
“do you need input, or listening?”
“is there anything you need from me right now?”
“would you like me to sit with you there, or help you move through that?”
As 2022 draws to a close, I’m grateful for glimmers of hope this week. I’m grateful for the bone-deep reminder that I don’t need to force my feelings. And I know I’ll probably need to come back and read this piece again when I get bogged down in feelings my brain tries to tell me will never ever go away, because I’m sure I’ll be there again.
My hope for all of us is that we can move gently through this holiday season with kindness, compassion, and a whole lot of healthy boundaries where we need them.
Liss x
Pleasure Homework:
I know those two words squished together like that might feel like a contradiction, but my hope when I started this Substack was to give a pleasure practice prompt each week, so I’m going to start gently with something super broad.
This week, in amongst the often chaotic season that is the final week of the year, can you find space to gift yourself a moment (or more!) of pleasure? This is your permission slip to sneak away and care for yourself deeply in some way. If you’ve read this far, I’d love for you to share in the comments one thing you intend to do this week to nurture yourself, that you’ll take pleasure in without guilt (internal, or externally imposed, I know families can be great at piling on the guilt).
I’m feeling drawn to laying a picnic blanket beneath a shady tree and watching the clouds breeze past. I know this one is easier for those of us in the southern hemisphere right now, but for me it’s pleasure in feeling grounded with bare feet on the grass, and pleasure in feeling connected, watching the clouds reminds me we’re part of something bigger than ourselves.