It’s
a new year! While 2014 has been mighty
chilly here in Ottawa, the end of 2013 and the very beginning of this year gave
me the warmth and good fortune of getting to spend time with many of my
favourite people of all time, who don’t live here in O-town. When I lived in Nova Scotia, I had a large
community in a small town, and the friendships I made while there have been important
ones that have endured beyond my move back to Ontario. Over
Thanksgiving, and again more recently when she was visiting me in Ottawa, a
dear friend said to me, “Doesn’t it make you bananas to see all of us and know
that you don’t live in Nova Scotia anymore?
I couldn’t do it.” To be honest,
I hadn’t thought about it much, but upon reflection, it got me to thinking
about ways through which we try to care for ourselves. It
makes sense—if saying goodbye to dear ones is painful, why put yourself through
it when you don’t have to? It’s kind of
like knowing that the stove is hot and then choosing to put your hand directly
on the burner. We have a natural
tendency to want to avoid pain, both physical and emotional. Feeling bad feels bad. However,
it also got me to thinking about the lengths we go to in order to avoid feeling
pain; how much we are willing to
deprive ourselves in order to avoid the pain of loss. While it may hurt to say goodbye at the end
of a wonderful visit with friends in another place, how much is gained during
the visiting? It becomes difficult to
weigh out the rewarding nature of connecting with others against the cost of
separation.  This
way of protecting ourselves—avoiding pleasure to avoid the loss of it out of a
fear that the loss might be crushing—is not an uncommon practice. We try not to get our hopes up, because we
could get disappointed. We try not to
dream big, because we could fail. We’re
trying to minimize the pain we might
experience if things don’t go as planned.
In
the end, however, I’ve often found that this kind of self-protection rarely
works. We still miss dear ones who are
far away. We still get disappointed when
we don’t get the job we applied for, or we don’t get to be with the person we
wanted to be with. The self-protection
may reduce the pain from a 9 to an 8 on a 10 point scale, but pretty much
everything above a 7 is more pain than we’d like to feel. And for such a small reduction in the pain,
we’re willing to give up SO MUCH. We’re
willing to sacrifice the good times, or the hopeful moments in which we really
think we can do anything. How much is
that feeling worth? Perhaps
I am a compulsive hedonist who gets wrapped up in the moment, but I encourage
the vulnerability required to be able to take that risk and connect—connect
with others, connect with your own dreams and connect with hope. Yes, feeling bad feels bad, but conversely,
feeling good feels good. A tearful
goodbye doesn’t erase the lovely weekend of reconnecting. Feeling a sense of hope that you’ll land your
dream job feels great and doesn’t erase all the work you put in to try to get
the job, even if you weren’t the successful candidate. In fact, feeling connected to others and
having hope is what gets us through the hard times. It
seems to all come down to risk—the risk of making yourself vulnerable and
putting yourself out there in the hope that the joy outweighs the pain vs. the
risk of keeping yourself protected not only from harm, but also from pleasure. But make no mistake, there are risks on both
sides. The question is, what prize are
you going to aim for? Fulfillment or
security? Both have their place and in
various circumstances, it may be wise to choose one over the other. But when it comes down to connection and
hope, there’s no amount of self-protection that will take the sting out of the
loss. I bet on hope. I bet on connection. |
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CategoriesAbuseAcceptance addiction Alcohol Being Healthy Connection depression Forgiveness Holidays Hope Loneliness mental illness Mindfulness Perspective Public Health Self-Care Shame Stigma Suicide Treatment TV Vulnerability Work-Life Balance |
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