Imagination is the seed of dreams. Allowing yourself to imagine can feel vulnerable, dangerous, risky. You put your desires out there and hope that when you blow, seeds will spread for the good of your heart, dreams will come true, and grow to protect you, keep you safe.
They don’t always, though, and that truth stings.
The thing is, sometimes we get disappointed. In others. In ourselves. Expectations don’t get met. We imagine how a plan will turn out … only for it not to.
Disappointment slices the bone. It hurts. Sometimes “I’m disappointed” is a gentle, diplomatic way of saying I’m angry, sad, feeling rawly exposed, and now pulling away in distrust. Disappointment brings with it a kick of betrayal. Your expectations betrayed you, right?
You’ll wish you had a protective heart-shell where you could safely find respite whenever a hint of pain snaps at you. And that’s OK. It’s OK to feel let down and frustrated when things aren’t the way you envisioned. That’s called loss.
You’re left with three options: pretend you’re not hurt and get on with it; go into dark retreat; or shimmy your way into understanding and compassion. I don’t pretend and snap out of things, so won’t be talking about that one. But maybe (just maybe) when disappointment cuts deep, you actually need to go into the thick of it – where it’s dirty – so you can reach through and see the truth, the root of what’s really hurting. Once that scary process is done, you get a little clarity, and end up with compassion and understanding.
Look, examining the dark places within isn’t a joyride, but it can be useful … if you limit your visiting hours. In fact, going there can be an act of self-care.
So, with the intention of shining light on truth, you go covert and hunker down. Shut out what’s not necessary. Others may feel uncomfortable when we go deep in our shit because, frankly, most people will do whatever it takes to not face their hurt, so won’t understand why youwould. They want to give you a quick fix – a bottle of wine and a night out – to make it all better. It doesn’t matter. Do it your way. It’s not their story. They don’t have to understand.
Those of us who have braved our lurky moments know it’s never completely dark, even though it may sometimes feel that way. We can’t go it all alone, though. It helps to have a person you trust enough to show the ugliness to. Someone who will listen to you through the snot and belly tears, someone you can speak your monster voices (self-doubt) to, someone that reminds you who you really are — and when theyspeak, you hear them above those inner roars.
It’s scary facing those ugly, monster voices that speak lies about you. They shake you up; part of us believesthose voices. You know: “I’m not good enough.” “I’m a failure.” “I’m a loser.” “I mess everything up.” “I hurt everyone.”
Those voices speak in absolutes. Extremes. They push you up against a wall with blunt hammer lies, threatening you not to question them. They bully. And bullies don’t tell the whole truth. When you’re smacked over the head with extremes and absolutes, there’s no room for truth — and that’s where you find love, compassion, and understanding. For others and for yourself.
Acknowledging the bullying voices acknowledges their power, while at the same time, diffuses it. The trick is to courageously wade through the sludge without getting stuck and look honestly at your part – the part you’re responsible for – in your pain. Not exactly fun.
A friend recently called me on my shit and said that my negative self-talk was not true, but that I may need to look at some of the choices I’ve made. Look for patterns. Then stop repeating them. Gulp. This is the responsibility I’m talking about: looking at the bare truth.
This isn’t mean-spirited responsibility. It’s a mirror that reaches behind the monster voices. One that reflects all the beauty and goodness about you, while exposing the frayed edges. We’re not damaged goods, nor are we perfect. You see your role and observe the whole picture … wrapped in clarity and kindness. This is when you ask yourself some hard questions, like what it is you reallywant and need. Then make choices.
When you get hurt – especially enough to make all your self-doubts rise – there’s a reason. Life is telling you something. Waking you up. I go to the mud intentionally, knowing that though it’s a little self-indulgent, it’s ultimately for my own good. I let myself wallow (we all do), but limit my time there and then start seeking the purpose, the lesson I need to learn. That gives me a guiding light, a rope, to pull myself out.
The reward for going through the dark? The light: compassion for yourself and others. A big reminder that we’re doing the best we can, even if expectations aren’t met. It’s not easy to adjust our expectations of self or others, but it’s necessary or disappointment will keep circling us like a hungry vulture. We have to look at what we are capable of, what others are capable of … without rose-tinted glasses: then love others exactly in their imperfection; but be sure to practice that love on yourself, too, and make the changes you need to reach what it is you want.
Usually the message is similar: love and trust yourself like you love others. Then go imagine something different, and let it grow.
Beautiful powerful post Becky. Learning to sit alone in the dark is a life skill that one can usually see in others when you meet them. It's a great skill to have, makes that room familiar and one safe to visit, for like any nightmare or dream there is much to be learnt from the inner recesses of our mind and of course the light is always much much brighter when we choose to emerge from the dark. Thank you for sharing.
Loved your post Becky, beautifully expressed. I have been navigating in/out often in this last year what you shared about here. And I also have a friend who's very good to call me on my shit and to tell me how it is exactly… that's what I call a true friend, one that cares enough to help me see what I can't always or don't always choose to admit to myself. Thank you for your lovely wisdom on this subject that we all navigate in our life at one time or another. xo
Hi Becky,
I actually read this well-timed post on the morning that I saw a dream on Friday morning-someone whispered to me this: 'the darkest moments are your safest moments. Something like that and conveying that exact message. As you know I'm going through a period and I think a divine stopped by 🙂 . Lovely and comforting post indeed. Thank you for writing. I check nearly every other day. I was wandering if alerts were possible? All the best, Chi xx
Thank you, Suzi. 🙂
It feels to me that the more I give myself permission to go in the dark, the shorter period of time I'm there. It's kinda good. 🙂
Suzanne – so great that you have a close friend who will call you on your shit. It makes all the difference!
<3
That's beautiful, Chi. You're def being loved after, aren't you? 🙂
In terms of alerts – you can look on the top(ish) right hand column and select "follow by email." You ought to get an email notification each time I post here. 🙂