I’ve written other posts about happiness – mainly dealing with the
idea that I wasn’t sure I deserved it. After all, happiness isn’t owed to any of us. The older I get the
more I realize that happiness many times requires a conscious effort on our
part.
But it never occurred to me that happiness and joy were something
to be feared. I mean, really? Isn’t
that what we all want? What is there
about joy to be scared of?
Well…it turns out…a lot.
Dress-Rehearsing Tragedy
I was listening to Oprah’s interview with BrenĂ© Brown on SuperSoul
Sunday when she talked about how joy is the most terrifying feeling we could
possibly have.
I used to stand over my two kids while they slept, and just
as a profound sense of love and joy washed over me, I'd imagine horrible things
happening to them: car crashes, tsunamis. "Do other mothers do this,"
I'd wonder, "or am I unhinged?" I now know from my research that 95
percent of parents can relate to my constant disaster planning. When we're
overwhelmed by love, we feel vulnerable—so we dress-rehearse tragedy.
I sat in my car completely stunned. That was me. Time spent with my parents has always been clouded in my mind with, “What if I lose one of them?” A new client acquired is immediately followed by, “But what if I mess up?” or “What if ALL of my clients suddenly abandon me at once and I have no income?”
I sat in my car completely stunned. That was me. Time spent with my parents has always been clouded in my mind with, “What if I lose one of them?” A new client acquired is immediately followed by, “But what if I mess up?” or “What if ALL of my clients suddenly abandon me at once and I have no income?”
Don’t even get me started about the fear I feel surrounding my
kids, who are happy, healthy, and do their own laundry.
I’ve been “dress-rehearsing tragedy” my entire life.
Yeah, but...
Of course, this would be a lot less complicated if I’d never
actually experienced tragedy. One might say that I’m justified in worrying
about that mythical shoe dropping because it actually has before. And, if I’m
being perfectly honest, there were times during my marriage when I fearfully
thought, “What if something should happen to him?”
And then it did.
Here’s the problem. All of that worrying about what I would do,
how I would feel, should something happen to my husband didn’t actually help or
prepare me for when it really happened. I mean, it’s not like I left the hospital
thinking, “Thank GOD I spent all that time worrying about this moment. It’s
really going to cut back on my grieving time!”
The only thing all of that worrying did was take me out of moments that I should have been
fully feeling. I should have been enjoying holding his hand as we took our kids
for a walk instead of worrying about losing him. I should have loved creating a
home with him rather than spending time worrying about what I would do if he
died. I even should have stayed in the moment when he told me he’d never liked
my chicken parmesan, rather than thinking, “REALLY? Then why don’t you just go?”
Okay, that last point was reaching a little. And I do make a good
chicken parmesan, no matter what he said.
Loss and Joy
I think people who have experienced loss either really get this or
they really don’t. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard from other widows
about how they’ve possibly found a new love but are fearful of really investing
in the relationship because they’re terrified of losing that person.
Dress-rehearsing tragedy.
I get it. When you’ve been brought to your knees by grief it’s
hard to imagine risking your sanity again. It’s hard not to be scared, therefore,
it’s hard to experience true moments of joy without fear. And we can’t help but
visit that place in our minds sometimes – that’s a very real thing.
It’s just no place to live.
Okay. So now what?
BrenĂ© Brown’s recommendation is this:
The next time you're traumatized by "What ifs," say
aloud, "I am feeling vulnerable." This sentence changed my life. It
takes me out of my fear brain—i.e., off the crazy train—and puts me back on the
platform, where I can make a conscious choice not to reboard.
She also recommends finding a moment of gratitude in the midst of
your panic. And that’s a good suggestion. Who am I to question a PhD who lands
on an Oprah show?
But here’s my thought: As with so many things, I’ve realized that
the root of my issues comes from not being in the moment. Fear, in many cases,
is thinking about what might happen
which means that I’m living in a future I can’t predict anyway. Recognizing
that I’m having a moment of fearful joy means that I need to stop, shift gears,
and completely focus on what’s happening right
now.
After all, I now know that being fearful in a moment of joy doesn’t
buy you any more time or peace of mind than just being present and enjoying it.
It just robs you of the moment.