Accepting My Fate with Dignity

This week I’ve been contemplating the scope of the crisis people across the world and in my neighborhood are enduring, and I keep returning to one idea: the extent of the devastation that has, is and is likely to befall us, at least here in America, is too much to for my brain to digest. I don’t think that this means current events are inherently profoundly traumatizing to everyone who is experiencing them, but rather that the potential shifts and cracks that are forming are too wide and too deep to fully comprehend. Our society may be remade, for better or for worse, and I feel so small in bearing witness to it.

I’m putting some of my energy into staying present and into the practicalities of my own life and I’m also making space to listen to those who are most directly being impacted. These would include those in nursing homes, disabled people and PoC who are being disproportionately affected. I feel intense rage when I hear the “Karens” of the world b*tching about not being able to get their hair cut; being inconvenienced and being oppressed are fundamentally different experiences and I cannot with people who reject any suggestions that humble introspection and community effort might be necessary.

The future feels both bleak and uncertain. This is nothing new to me, but, in this instance, it is a collective outlook rather than an individual one. I’m returning every time my mind reaches a peak of anxiety to the idea that, when I reach the end of myself, acceptance is the only path left to trod. I will not deny my own reality and I will not fight a losing battle. I desire an embracing of grief that I do not know if I have in me, but the idea of remaining proud, dignified and whole no matter what I face or what I lose appeals to the core of who I am. This isn’t an avoidance of emotion but rather a “being with” myself in compassion at any cost.

I always thought autonomy was the most important and highest value I held, but I sense this is part of the shifting that is happening. Some of the events of our lives, our fate if you will, are outside of the scope of what we can predict, make sense of or affect. I do not yet know how to surrender control in situations in which I feel threatened by doing so, but I know acceptance of my fate, whatever it may be, is the most important commodity I can cultivate for these circumstances.

Befriending the Fearful Parts

Today is barrels of fun as I’m dealing with the potential for severe weather as well as the ongoing pandemic. Right after learning about the upcoming weather events, someone posted “tips” for dealing with anxiety on a social media site I visited. What they wrote immediately irritated me as their message was basically “think positive” and “distract yourself.” That approach may work for some people, but, to me, it dishonors the role that parts of myself–the ones with strong emotions–play.

Anxiety is often relegated to the role of a deceptive betrayer, a cowardly enemy or a feminized hysteric in modern culture and modern psychotherapy. I find it unfunny but ironic that many of the exposure and response prevention tasks that people with contamination OCD have had to endure, such as touching a doorknob and not washing one’s hands, fly directly in the face of declarations from the W.H.O. and the C.D.C. in terms of dealing with the pandemic. We have been told to fight our fears, to quell the whispers of obsessive thoughts and to “calm the f*ck” down” when, in reality, the world presents dangers. I find myself deeply questioning the years of training I received in graduate school, wondering how much the “treatment” of anxiety is really a tutelage in social norming in order to not disturb the sheltered peace of the privileged optimists among us.

What relationship can we have, then, with our anxiety that does not trade fighting for subservience and terror? I view it as one of acknowledgment, honorance and the formation of an alliance. If this framing doesn’t work for you, ignore it! I first encountered in during Buddhist practice and immediately knew it was for me, but it may not be the story you need to tell.

To me, getting to know the scared parts of myself is first a practice in realizing there have been and continue to be things that are frightening in the world. I’m not “stupid” or “over-reacting” when I worry. I concentrate on the process of how I worry and thank the parts of self that bring worries to my mind for their care for me. There is a way to worry well or at least to negotiate with worry. I take action based on my fears, action aimed at reducing the likelihood that they will come true as well as methods of building resources if they do. Sometimes, my fears fuel panic-buying, but I’ve grown to trust myself more deeply than I did in the past, so this happens here and there, not with consistency. In short, I prepare for danger, and, in doing so, often fear it less.

I also check in with myself and with my fear to watch the extent to which it is based on concrete reality and the extent to which it is a physical reaction to stress. I find that I actually have the most difficulty with anxiety after a stressor has occurred, when I’ve taken all the practical steps possible and simply am in a state of waiting for resolution. For me, behaviors such as not sleeping or eating poorly can create their own spin-offs of fear that have to be managed by self-care.

Perhaps because I’ve been invalidated for my fears on a non-stop basis, told not to worry, that my worries are unreasonable or that they don’t deserve attention, I’m not good at remembering that, even if the worst happens, I’m not alone. There may or may not be people willing to help or sufficient resources to recover, but, even if safeguards fail me, we are interconnected and each of our lives, in my worldview, are more than a beginning and an end. What would it mean to tell the next person you hear panicking that you will be there for them in whatever way you can if their worries come to fruition, rather than telling them not worry? To have that said to you? I try to do this for my anxious parts, to let them know they aren’t going to be abandoned to fear, that the rest of me will consolidate and bring the resources I have to bear to manage the situation.

Anxiety, even at the “pathological” level I possess of it, isn’t my enemy. It does not deceive me. It isn’t hysterical. It is a biological response that has been preserved in pretty much all animals by the process of evolution to warn us of danger. Humans have the gift of foresight, of anticipating threats before they occur. We can rage against this capacity, deny its presence, numb it or attempt to silence it through invented worlds of positivity, or we can come to know the inner monsters we hold and realize they are frightened children who need love. We can come to know it as a part of us, steady in its reliable angst, and, like all parts, only made whole when it is welcomed into the family of our being.

At the Edge, With Helplessness and Hopelessness (Today’s Daily Remembrance)

It is not a good day for my capacity to feel optimistic and bright. My attempt to get accommodations at my job is beginning to look like I am going to be retaliated against or, at the minimum, discounted. I could not sleep last night and now have no appetite. In the face of this situation, I need to take some time to access my inner world.

I feel helpless and hopeless. I gotten to this place many times before in my life, but have often failed to label what I was feeling in the moment. I would get stuck on the external threat, perseverating on how to mitigate it, and would ignore all of my internal processes. After several hours of frantically searching the web exploring my next steps, I saw into my inner world and noticed how much each part of me was scattering in every direction at once. I could not calm or come back to myself at all until I acknowledged the state I was in. I’m feeling trapped, alone without anyone to help me bear the burden and worried that even more devastation lies–unpredictably and uncontrollably–ahead.

I fear that I’m at the edge of the crevasse I’ve done everything in my power to avoid, the place where I lose my job, my home, my healthcare and anything else that provides a semblance of normal life. I’ve never asked for accommodations because I feared doing so would lead to this outcome. Logically I know I’m many, many steps from this dire fate, but the landscape feels tilted towards my inevitable demise. That is what helplessness and hopelessness look like to me–drifting from “functional human” into an animalistic state where moment-to-moment physical survival is my only focus. Openly acknowledging the effects of my trauma feels like a direct portal into reliving it writ large.

The few responses available to me when I feel helpless and hopeless center primarily on either engaging in a fight for control or on surrendering in acceptance of my fate. The “be louder” side won last night as I spent hour after hour complying a list of questions and additional documentation for my employer. I won’t get any clarity for a few days at the minimum, and my energy is flagging quickly, collapsing into “come what may.”

The ledge I perceive to be closing quickly has never left me ever since I came to terms with my childhood trauma and ended contact with my parents. I knew living my truth meant I could lose at winning or fail at succeeding at life; I knew I had to take that risk over denying what they’d done to me in hopes of having a “backup” plan. I’ve sworn up and down I’d die on the streets before I’d let them back in my life and I mean it as much today as I did the first day I said it.

Rage starts overtaking me when I sit too long in this place. They (my parents) irreparably broke my mind and the thin lines of glue with which I’ve managed to cobble together a person are yielding to the pressures of my life. I’ve come to a razor’s edge but I’ve never been hospitalized or taken off any significant amount of time because of my disability. I’ve walked and ran and scampered to stay back from the ledge and I’m so, so tired of fighting for a foothold. I feel like I literally asked my job for one g-d extra rope to help me stay secured, and all that’s happened is I’ve slipped further towards the breach. I’m sure if I fall in, people will suddenly, magically gain an ability to see my struggles, all while totally and utterly failing to account for the shoves downward they gave me and the shrugs they offered when I extended my hand in desperation.

Let me, come hell or high water, not be a bystander to someone else’s helpless and hopeless moments, even if all I can do is point them towards available resources. That’s all my suffering ever teaches me, how to not add to other peoples’ struggles. I have no greater insight into when to fight and when to yield, or how to avoid my personal pit. How do you handle feeling helpless and hopeless? What feels like your personal “worse case scenario” in life, and how do you cope with its existence? What are some resources you use to keep from going over the edge into despair?

Lessons Learned (Today’s Daily Remembrance)

Today’s card invited me to consider what I have learned from a mistake I’ve made. What sprung to my mind, based on current issues I’m facing, is that I’ve lived “as-if” at times in my life to my own detriment. Specifically, I’ve muddled my way through life as if I do not have a disability, when in fact I do.

I am in the process of applying for accommodations at my job due to my PTSD. I do not know if they will be granted or not, but I recognize in coming to the point where I need to request them that I have finally accepted that I am significantly affected by my mental health condition. I am not doing “fine.”

For over a decade, I’ve lived in a shadowland of feeling completely overwhelmed emotionally but also terrified that the shaky progress I’d made towards autonomy would instantly collapse if I asked for mercy for any reason. I’ve been driven further into the fog by experience after experience where I’ve conveyed my limitations in personal relationships, only to have them be completely ignored or used to harm me. I’ve little faith that institutional mechanisms will prove more reliable, but I have to at least try to seek them.

I feel weak and pathetic for not being able to muster the resolve to defeat my demons, as if where I’m at in terms of functioning is a choice I get to make. It’s as if I’ve run non-stop for almost 15 years and yet continue to question why my knees are bone-on-bone. As though I’d chose this life if presented alternatives without PTSD.

My mistake has been not only in living without accepting my limitations, it has also been in believing my situation to be feast or famine. I kid you not, my conception of my world is one where I work as a professional and make a solid income or one where I’m homeless, with no room for possibility in between. Prior to the last few weeks, I honestly never considered attempting to get accommodations, as I figured my only alternative, if I could not manage anymore, was to quit my job. I question which other areas of my life I hold in the same untenable perfect-ruined dichotomy.

Are there any areas of your life where you live “as-if” and struggle to accept the true nature of your situation? What would it look like to face reality? Are there any gradients available between “all is well” and “it’s gone to hell” in the issue with which you are dealing?

Clearing Sky (In the Cards)

Today’s In an Open Hand card draw focuses on releasing in order to make space for self-growth and development. Sometimes, letting go requires physically discarding, donating or re-purposing items. At other times, expectations, assumptions and regrets may benefit from being mentally discharged. For today, I decided to focus on my thoughts rather than my clutter.

If I could experience my life differently, one of the main changes I would make would be in my perspective-taking. The sky of my mind zooms in to a tiny storm-cloud, ignoring the beautiful vista the rest of the view provides. When I face a stressor, I have tremendous difficulty in maintaining a stance of gratitude and acceptance. I want the threatening weather gone now, and I cannot rest until I do everything within my power to make it so. I often have the thought “what would happen if I just did nothing,” but, even for the two-raindrop clouds, I burst out the umbrella and flip the fan switch in an attempt to blow it away.

My excessive reaction is caused not because I think I’ll drown in the minuscule amount of rain, but rather because I have an incredibly hard time feeling safe and secure if there are any clouds, no matter how insignificant. The next time something bothers me, I am going to attempt to see if I can visualize it in my sky metaphor, and if perhaps that image will help me to adjust my response. What would you like to release today? How much mental energy do you waste chasing storm clouds?

People Who Inspire (Today’s Daily Remembrance)

My Daily Remembrance cards are designed to get me thinking about the past in a way that promotes healing and acceptance. For today’s prompt, I focused on someone who had a positive influence on my life. The individual, let’s call her Susan, was a middle-aged single neighbor of mine growing up. She lived by herself in a nearby apartment and allowed me to come over on occasion to chat.

What endeared Susan to me was that on one of my birthdays, she gave me a gift a day for every year of my age. I was a child most people overlooked because I was extremely quiet and shy. I was painfully self-conscious and lacked the social skills needed to make good conversation. To have someone not only see me, but see me enough to care and to go out of her way for me, meant the world to me.

I kept each of her gifts and felt a sense of connection whenever I saw them. One of my favorites was a series of piggy-banks in bright colors and shapes. (I loved anything rainbow as a child, so discovering I was part of the queer community felt only natural!). I unfortunately lost the physical objects when I had to cut ties with my family of origin, but the memory of those excited moments of wondering what treasure I would get the next day has stuck with me.

I tried to pass on the good feelings with a similar process of gift-giving to a friend of mine after a loss, but it wasn’t well-received (complicated story). I think it isn’t the exact specifications of gift-giving that matter so much, but rather the spirit of generosity and thoughtfulness from which I want to learn. Who gave you a gift that really meant something to you? Who have you known personally who has inspired you?

Accepting My Situation (Today’s Simple Pleasure)

For today’s simple pleasure, I decided to contemplate and post about ways in which I’m coming to accept both myself and others (in different ways) as I grow into who I am as a trans and non-binary person. This involves both how I perceive myself and how I make sense of others’ (inaccurate) perceptions of me. It is encompasses my role within the queer community.

In terms of my self-perception, I find myself toggling back and forth between wanting the physical changes that come with taking T to happen more quickly, and being terrified that something will occur (mostly hair loss) over which I’ll have regrets. Again and again, I have to come back to trying to find solace rather than fear in the unknown. The mental effects of T have been amazing and have led me to want to stay on it for as long as I can.

Misgenderings abound. Whenever I try to talk about being on T with cis people, I am asking if I want to “go all the way” or “pass.” I try to explain that, no matter what my body looks like, it is very unlikely that I will be correctly gendered because of other people’s ignorance or willful denial of non-binary people’s validity and existence. I have felt drained and angered at times by the non-stop misgendering I encounter every day.

Yesterday, however, I felt a slight gentleness come over me when someone mislabeled me as my pet’s “mother,” as I realized that, with strangers, I’m finding little utility in fighting to be seen for who I am. My response is acceptance not in a “it’s okay for this to happen, nbd” kind of way but rather in a “this person’s misconception doesn’t define me in any way” sort of response. Cis people often show a reliance on childhood understandings of gender and an inattention to cis privilege that is pitiful to me; some people and situations are not worth investing in to try to persuade or educate.

I think what I am coming to understand is that I do not have to fight the gender revolution alone and I do not need to see myself as the sole bearer of responsibility for creating a safer environment for any trans and non-binary people who may come after me. I can be who I am and allow my understanding of myself to continue to evolve, and I can be selective in terms of who I engage with on topics related to gender. Accepting the realities of my current experience allows me to do. What in your life are you working to accept? What would be different in your life if you were able to take in what is actually going on?