We are in a process. Let the discomfort work on you.
’m writing this after several consecutive nights, weeks, and months of not sleeping well or much. I know I’m not alone, obviously. I also know I will not put these words together as well as I hope to, but writing is how I try and get to the truth, so I’m reminding myself that the process is the point.
The pandemic was already one level of unprecedented (in our lifetime) unrest. Then, the horrific murder of George Floyd and the aftermath has forced a collective reckoning with multiple, long-existing, systemic issues in our society. Institutional and individual racism. Government corruption on all sides. Unchecked violence. Generational trauma. Extreme political polarization.
These are extraordinarily complex issues. Deeply rooted issues. Issues for which there are no easy, quick, or straight-forward solutions, much as we want and need them right now.
On a collective level, we feel, see, and hear a tremendous amount of pain. On a personal level, I am profoundly uncomfortable. Not in a “poor me” way, but in a “what the f*ck should I do and where is the ground?” way. I’ve been dealing with it by listening and connecting in real life, in my community. I’ve not been posting on social media, despite getting criticism for my silence. I’ve been reaching out to friends and family, having difficult conversations, taking action in my home and community, leaning on my teachers, listening, and absorbing best as I can so that I act with integrity.
In the middle of the night last night, when I woke again with a pit in my stomach, I thought, Just let it be uncomfortable. Let the discomfort work on you and change you in the way you need to be changed.
With that in mind, there are two concepts I want to share that are particularly helpful to me right now. Perhaps they will be useful to you too. I’ll continue to share my heart with you here. I will not be posting on social media for the time being. I understand that may be interpreted and misunderstood in various ways. I have to be okay with that. If I'm not okay with that and I act out of fear of losing popularity or capital, I am a puppet. I cannot afford to be a puppet. Being a puppet almost killed me.
Concept 1: Splitting.
In psychological terms, in times of extreme stress and fear, human minds tend to split. Splitting is a psychological defense mechanism that can happen when we feel threatened and our cognitive process is overwhelmed. When this happens, we group or split things into simplified buckets: good vs. bad, right vs. wrong; us vs. them.
This is typically associated with younger people—children, teens, young adults—because they are trying to figure themselves out. But it can also happen to adults as a result of trauma, extraordinary stress, and personality disorders. Splitting also isn't holistic, meaning when we split we don't necessarily do it with everything. It typically happens around cherished beliefs and complex topics like politics and religion.
What’s important to know is that splitting is a normal psychological defense mechanism. When you see it, in yourself and others, it’s helpful to have a name for it. It’s not “wrong," per se, but it can be very dangerous. Because the truth of life and solutions exist in the paradox, in the space of “both, and" not “either, or." There is no room for expansion, growth, or healing in “either, or." When we are in the "either, or" place we cannot see, hear, love each other, or think critically. It is an absolute dead end, 100% of the time. Most of what we see on social media and in the media, especially right now, is broadcasted splitting in an attempt to make you split, too. Know that, watch for it, and observe. Catch yourself when you split, have compassion, and see if you can examine the fear behind it.
Concept 2: Process.
We are in a collective process. We are all in our own individual processes, too.
The collective process right now, when compared to the expanse of human history, has probably happened before. I’m no history scholar, but the literature and teachers tell me we have been here. The specifics are different, but symbolically the story is not new: we are in a burning, spiritually speaking. The burn has to happen. Though it is excruciating, we actually want it to happen so that we can be renewed and restored with fresh eyes and collective wisdom. By burning, I don’t mean violence. I don’t mean war. I mean the dissolution of ideas, systems, and paradigms that do not serve us anymore. I mean the death of our false selves and our separateness.
What does that mean for each of us, individually?
It means, I think, that we let the discomfort work on us. We stay. We don't try to escape it, outrun it, bypass it, or speed through it. We allow. As sober people, this is our superpower and our duty: to let the pain teach us what we need to know. For each of us, the learnings will be different. For each of us, the actions we need to take will be different. The important part is that you tune into your OWN heart, your OWN integrity, your OWN compass, your OWN process. The important part is that you do not rush to take a pre-determined position that isn’t tested against your own experience. Allowing this individual process is, counterintuitively, how you contribute productively to the collective.
Being in process also means that I (try to) give others the dignity of their process. This is not something I came up with on my own, it was taught to me by my sponsor. What does it mean to give people the dignity of their process? It means many things, but at the most basic level, it is simply accepting that they are in one and it's not personal to you.
My process at the moment looks like this: listening, learning, questioning. I've linked up a few resources below that I'm engaged with now. I'm also writing so I can find the truth. I'm speaking when it is called for. I'm doing my best to act with integrity. Above all, I am staying sober.
That's all for today.
I love you and I root for you, always.
Laura
