“Everything worthwhile in life is won through surmounting the associated negative experience. Any attempt to escape the negative, to avoid it or quash it or silence it, only backfires. The avoidance of suffering is a form of suffering. The avoidance of struggle is a struggle. The denial of failure is failure. Hiding what is shameful is itself a form of shame.” (Mark Manson)
Ouch, I penned into the margin of the above paragraph, truth-hammered.
Oddly, the “ouch” came with a sense of pressure-releasing-relief.
Truth sets free, after all....
I don’t know if it’s being close to 40 or what, but I’m tired of approaching every situation like it’s a battle to be fought-and-won.
I’m tired of pretending my life is better, somehow, than it really is.
I’m tired of fighting things I cannot change, about myself, about my family, or my husband.
I’m so fucking tired of trying to avoid suffering. Suffering, after all, has a mind and will of its own.
It will catch up to every single person eventually, if it hasn’t already.
You know what?
Trying to avoid suffering, to escape the negativity and avoid struggle, pretending and Instagramming your life perfect?
It’s weird, but in the end, it’ll isolate you.
Because no one, no one, has a perfect life.
And if that is true, if imperfection is universal, than it is something that connects us all, isn’t it?
“Suffering of some sort seems to be the only one thing strong enough to both destabilize and reveal our arrogance, our separateness, and our lack of compassion,” writes Richard Rohr.
When my son was being treated for cancer, I bumped into so many other ordinary moms and dads helplessly bed-sitting their horrifically suffering children.
I felt as though, before cancer, I’d been living in an artificial Matrix where everyone had healthy kids.
But the reality was, there were so many folks suffering, unnoticed by society at large, and I had suddenly been given the gift of sight, Seeing Them and also, simultaneously, Not Being Alone.
And so here it is:
My children love each other, but they sure can fight.
I love homeschooling, but sometimes I feel disillusioned and discouraged and wonder if I’m screwing everyone up.
I wonder, constantly, if I’m making the right choices in life.
I worry my independent, freedom-loving nature is keeping my children from finding friendships outside of our family; I can’t seem to stick with just one thing for long enough for them to find long-term friends.
When one of my little ones struggles with anything, I blame myself.
My own mind is always on, on, on, learning, absorbing, thinking, and it wears me out.
My husband and I love each other fiercely. But opposites attract, right? We fight. We argue. We disagree.
Questioning my faith has been equally freeing and isolating. I can’t “buy into” one side or another fully, and it all leaves me wondering where I fit.
I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted and stay thin. One day, I lost my appetite and gained so much weight. I then spent years hating both myself and my new body.
I am friendly yet I struggle with vulnerability. I encompass the paradox of being everyone’s friend and no one’s.
Every “perfect” Instagram picture I’ve ever posted, I swear, came before either a major fight or a minor disaster.
I am horribly disorganized. Recently, I found a recipe for pineapple salsa in a file-folder labeled “Ryan- Career”.
And yet, I must have a tidy-looking house before company comes over.
I say yes to everything because I really think I can do everything and then when it becomes very apparent that I (and my family) cannot handle all the yes’s, I hibernate, sometimes for months.
No matter how many times they shatter, I continually find new rose-colored glasses and put them on.
There, my friends, is some I’m-tired-of-giving-a-fuck-about-perfection truth-telling.
I can’t wait to share more, but this is a start.
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I'm a busy mom of three asking hard questions about my faith.