We live in a time where self-help books, gurus, influencers, and experts expound, “If you follow these step-by-step methods, mindsets, behaviors, and beliefs things will get better.” Well, things were better this morning till a young man turned in front of me, forcing me to lock my brakes, sending a steamy stream of un-lidded hot chocolate into my half-ass effective phone charger, positioned right behind the cup holder. Well, if this is the worst thing that happens to me between nine and noon, I’m lucky.
As a psychotherapist for the past 40 years, I’m beginning to accept that everything can’t be brought under my control. And that letting go takes a lot of practice. Loosening our clench is so important cognitively, emotionally, and physically because our body truly does present its bill. In moments of resolute clarity, I ask myself how I should live between nine and noon. I find it best not to extrapolate questions too far into the future.
For me, the questions are often more useful than the answers. Most answers/justice we seek will never be solved or resolved. Because that was then, and this is now. Sorry, Chat GPT. At least Siri admits when she/he or they don’t know something. We humans are solution-oriented. Acceptance might just have to replace solutions. And if answers do surface, we often don’t like them.
So, we’re instructed to “Just let it go.”… “Pray it away.” Unfortunately, this hasn’t panned out too well for the Ukrainians. I’ve recently accepted the fact that no cologne could have kept Mary Brooks from dumping me in fourth grade for this troll named Fred. Son-of-a- bitch held her hand on the playground. I’m sure she’s still regretting her relational misstep to this day.
Sometimes we need to learn how to play in the rubble. I can never undo my fourth-grade devastation, but I can accept it and adjust. We suffer when we are constantly searching for a way out. I’ve learned that moving forward is the only way for me. Much good still lies ahead.
