Sometimes my work as a therapist and my experiences in the outside world clash resoundingly. I have to be careful to discern if my annoyance is a false note. A feeling of envy, insomnia, or a loose end? But no. There is something in the air that rings false to me.
The phrase that currently bothers me is:
“It’s all good.” This phrase feels like the spiritual equivalent of telling each other we are “fine”—a meaningless word. I don’t know who invented this but it definitely comes from the same sea where we fished out “God never gives us more than we can handle.” I haven’t seen this to be the case. In fact aren’t the most gracious wonderful people seem plagued by random hardship? This year I have seen the strongest marriages break apart and one friend try to kill herself.
Please don’t tell me this was “for a purpose.” If so, I don’t have the hubris to believe I know what the purpose might be. I have stopped delivering those karma-telegrams to myself.
Freud wrote of “necessary suffering.” He was right. Life has pain. When we don’t believe this, we feel we are wronged. Then, suffering and sadness become misery. Many of us are still wondering what is “fair” or how to “get happy.” As I recall “happily ever after” turns out to be just the beginning.
Perhaps if we were taught this earlier, we would grow up more resilient, more in charge, and not so sucker-punched when bad things continue to happen.
Turning older is terrifying. What surprises me is that, to a fault, everyone with whom I share this fear tells me how good I look.
Mortality is what I talking about—or immortality.
I want a re-do of many important choices I’ve made.
I want to embed a chip with everything I know and love into my daughter’s head.
I want to put my heart into hers.
I want life never to stop, not ever, even if it has been dazzingly good enough for a long time.