Thoughts from Boston to Denver

There's something about flying, about looking down at the world from 40,000 feet that always tends to put me in a philosophical mood.

The past few months have tempted me to close myself off in so many ways. In crisis mode, it's self-protect, self-protect, self-protect, and avoid any and all situations that could potentially land me here again. It's living life on chronic defense: limit and/or eliminate all potential threats. But is that fair? Is it right? Is it really any way to live?

In Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the main character, Newt Scamander, makes a simple comment that has stuck with me ever since I saw the movie: "My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice." I've heard similar phrases an annoying number of times before, and most of the time I'll still tell you that "don't worry" are the two most useless words you can possibly say to an anxiety-prone person. Maybe it's because of how blunt this particular word order is, or maybe it's simply because it was written by J.K. Rowling -- regardless, and for some reason, this thought has stayed with me.

I could easily construct a shell. I could live in such a way as to eliminate as much potential for pain as possible. I could let worrying about whether or not I'll wind up hurt again dictate how I live my life. It's the safer option, and honestly, it's the more appealing one most of the time.

Or.

I could live with my heart wide open. I could allow this experience to open me up instead of close me off. I could do all the things that terrify me, knowing full well that I could eventually wind up hurt again. I could put myself out there and claim what is rightfully mine: life to the fullest.

I want to be the kind of person who believes the best in people. Who gives the benefit of the doubt. Whose vulnerability inspires vulnerability in other people. Who comes out on the other side of pain and heartache stronger, kinder, and braver instead of weak, bitter, and fearful.

I first came upon the following quote while reading Brené Brown's Daring Greatly, which I very highly recommend if you haven't read it. It paints a powerful picture and has really been challenging my way of thinking as of late.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly..."
- Theodore Roosevelt, "Citizenship in a Republic" (emphasis mine)

This is how I want to live my life: daring greatly. Bravely. Courageously. BIG. Closing myself off would serve no one, least of all me. Could I get hurt again? Sure. But something tells me it's a risk worth taking.

Disclaimer: this is not a consistent desire right now. Most of the time I still prefer the idea of closing myself off so I never have to feel anything this terrible ever again. But I'm working on it. I don't want to live scared. I don't want to operate primarily out of fear. What's the point of a life lived carefully? I want to heal and I want every good thing life has to offer me. I want the joy that matches this deep despair. And I'll get there.

I'm already on my way.

Feeling Deeply

I am a feeler. I feel a lot of things and I feel them deeply. You could call me emotional, but I'm not sure that's entirely fair in this particular context. I am, in fact, emotional. I always have been. It might even be the truest thing about me. But I believe that I am emotional as a result of my feeling deeply. Labeling someone as "emotional" almost always has a negative connotation attached, hence the unfair part. What's wrong with feeling deeply? Can't "emotional" be a symptom of having a big heart instead of a dismissal?

I'm learning that there are a lot of different ways to carry emotion. It's not something to hide behind. For a long time I let the fact that I am "emotional" be my banner, but feeling deeply is not and cannot be an excuse for inappropriate or manipulative behavior. Emotions can be completely valid and also completely subjective. I tend to be about 80/20 when it comes to emotions and logic. I think that can be okay as long as I learn to tread wisely.

I'm currently reading Rising Strong by Brené Brown. Early on in the book, she uses the phrase "the stories we make up" pretty cavalierly, and as soon I read it, all the lights went on. It was one of my biggest ah ha! moments in a long time:

Other people do it too.

I've always referred to it as "filling in the blanks." When I'm anxious or afraid or worried, or if I don't have all the details about something, or if something's making me feel uneasy, I fill in the blanks. I make up stories with the information I don't have. This is something that has always come so easily to me. I make up stories and I believe them. I react emotionally, even physically to them. A lot of the time, once the story starts to take shape, I almost instantly accept it as truth. I behave as though it's the truth. And in my head, it makes sense (of course it does, I'm the one who made it up). But once the story is there, it's as if nothing else could possibly be true instead. There is no alternative.

This is a very dangerous and painful habit.

I've known for a while that I do this, and I've slowly been working on unlearning some bad habits. In Rising Strong, Brené talks about meetings she has with her colleagues, and how they all routinely use the phrase "this story I'm making up is..." in order to be transparent and honest with one another. She raves about how much stronger this tactic makes her team and how much respect they all have for each other's honesty. Not to mention the fact that it often helps to clear up simple misunderstandings. I'm slowly learning to do that. I'm learning to ask direct questions instead of make assumptions, and I'm learning to be honest (and sometimes blunt) about what I'm feeling or afraid of in order to be understood. It's weird and it's hard and it really goes against the grain for me. It's uncomfortably vulnerable. But the peace that follows clarifying things I don't understand and knowing what's true is infinitely better than the downward spiral that is believing the stories I make up. I'm always telling the patients I discharge, "If you're unsure about something or you have a question, don't hesitate to call your doctor. Even if it feels small or silly or it's the middle of the night, it's better to know than to wonder and worry." I'm realizing as I type this that I need to do a better job of taking my own advice. It's better to know than to wonder and worry.

Although maybe on varying levels, making up stories is something we all do. Knowing that feels so unbelievably validating. Acknowledging and understanding it for what it is is huge, and it feels like a big step forward for me. It feels like getting better.

The thing about feeling deeply is that while I feel things for valid reasons, I also feel deeply as a result of the stories I make up. It's emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting, and at times it has caused me hurt the people I love. To feel deeply, whether a blessing or a curse, inevitably results in feeling deep pain. I often scrape the bottom of the barrel, so to speak. But I want to believe that that means that my emotional range goes both ways, that I am also capable of feeling joy unspeakable.

I'm learning, and it's helping me hope.