Core recovery concept number four, and I think a fitting way to sign off in the final edition/episode of The Anxious Morning:
You can handle it. You always do.
Virtually every difficulty along the path to recovery can be traced back to the idea that the experiences we have will be too much or that we are unable to handle them. But - and without intending to minimize anyone’s experience - we always do handle our experiences. Sometimes handling things feels good. It makes us feel strong and capable and powerful. Sometimes handling things means just coming out the other side, shaken but still standing. Both experience are part of being human and both experiences count even when one is not one we aspire to.
Maybe you ran to the emergency room because you were so afraid. Maybe you skipped an important family event because you were afraid. Maybe you left school or stopped working. Maybe you’ve been living a highly restricted life because you are afraid. But even as you sat in that emergency room or spent a week feeling disappointed in yourself for skipping that wedding, you were handling it. Even when you’re feeling lost and defeated and and certain that you can’t possibly get better or overcome the bad experiences in your life … you are handling it. You’re trying to wipe out feelings and sensations, or to completely avoid them. Maybe you’re trying to avoid bad memories. Maybe you’re trying to never think about yourself because you see yourself as flawed or broken. But even as you avoid and try to steer clear from those things, they pop up anyway. They pop up unexpectedly or they pop up the minute you get tired of your current life and attempt to make a change.
We run, but we can’t hide. And in the end, even when we run, we are handling things. We feel. We remember. We experience. We come out the other side. We will say that we can not handle things, but we always do. Even ugly crying, screaming in pain, and begging for help is still handling. It’s not the handling you want … but it is handling. Do not lose sight of this.
If I could give people just one thing it would be an increased appreciation for themselves and what they are capable of. We marvel at stories of triumph over adversity. We love tales of resilience. We cheer for those that refuse to give up. But sometimes we fail to see those things in ourselves. We see others as amazing but ourselves as hopeless and damaged, even as we navigate through difficulty after difficulty. We stand up and applaud for strangers as we berate ourselves and weave tales of futility in our own minds.
Why? Why must we do this? I know you can’t just decide to believe in yourself. I know that you can’t just decide to not be afraid. I know you can’t just flip a switch and see things the way I see them. But you can start with the smallest of changes. A change in direction. You can turn, little by little, and wind up looking down a new path. Then maybe you can start to take the first tentative steps down that path. Hell, the other paths haven’t been working out, so what do you have to lose, right?
I will leave you with this. A thing to chew on. Something to consider. When I wrote the first edition of this publication a year ago, I was hoping to give you something to think about every morning. I will try once more do that. Maybe I’ll get it right.
Instead of saying that you can’t handle it, maybe give yourself a break and start to consider that maybe you’re just not handling it in the best way. That’s a very different story, isn’t it?
You’ve never been overcome. You’ve never lost control. You’ve never gone insane. You’ve never died. You’ve had very real, human, impactful experiences. And you came through them. You handled them. So rather than declaring yourself weak or incapable, see yourself as inherently flexible and able to learn.
What can I take from these experiences if I look beyond my usual narrative? What would I say to a friend or loved one if they were making the judgments I’m making? Can I imagine saying those same things to me?
All the tips, tricks, techniques, stories and encouragements in the world can often fall short if we do not start here. With the smallest of shifts. A barely noticeable change of direction. Daring to consider that maybe there is another way and maybe you are capable even when unsure, afraid, rattled, and vulnerable.
I have said, and will continue to say, that my job is not to convince you that you should get better. My job is only to suggest that maybe - just maybe - you can. Maybe that starts with opening yourself up to the possibility of a you that you have either learned or have been told does not exist. I strongly suspect that that unattainable version of you is attainable, and maybe already exists. Maybe you just haven’t looked from the right angle yet.
If you have followed along with me every morning, or most mornings, in 2022, thank you. If you just started following along this morning. Thank you. I find it difficult to get my head around the fact that I sat down and did this thing with you 230 times for an entire year. This was an idea I felt strongly about, that would never have seen the light of day without your interest, your support, and your participation. I appreciate you. All of you.
So … what should we do next? I mean, while we wait for The Anxious Morning to be released as a book.
Or two. ;-)
230. You Can Handle It. You Always Do.