The Cost of Authenticity
(Trigger warning: grief, world events, things we can’t control.)
I talk a lot about joy and creativity, and how we can access these states.
I talk about being present enough to NOTICE our experience in the moment. How much resistance we feel to doing it. Yet how much relief comes from it.
I talk about how this slowing down and noticing allows us to be more authentic, and to act in alignment with our core values.
I talk about how good it feels to show up in the world as we really are, to be able to say what we mean, to do what we intend, and to forgive ourselves for the bumbling mess we are the rest of the time.
Today I want to talk about the other side of the coin.
Listening to the news this past week has been hard (even harder than usual).
It used to be easier for me to compartmentalize whenever horrific world events were announced. Today I can’t ignore the reality of so many families living in terror and desperation because of willful actions by other human beings, while the rest of the world watches and picks sides.
I can’t and I don’t want to.
Even though I find myself saying, This isn’t the kind of world I want to live in.
Even though I feel powerless and demoralized.
Some things in this life we don’t choose. We can’t change. And they’re painful. So why look at them at all? Why allow the pain in?
Compartmentalizing is an adaptive response, right? It’s there to protect us. If we allowed ourselves to feel all the pain all the time we wouldn’t be able to function.
And yet. I advocate for looking. Allowing. Feeling. Not all of it at once. But small doses here and there.
Doing this means going against powerful survival mechanisms that urge us to look away.
I’ve said this before: Looking inside and feeling is a radical thing to do.
It’s not easy under the best of circumstances. When we’re upset or anxious or frustrated everything in us screams NO.
So why look at the painful stuff?
Because grief is part of life. And if we exclude part of our reality we end up feeling removed from all of it. And then none of it makes sense.
If we’re not willing to be fully present some of the time, we lose touch with who we are. We lose our sense of being alive. And with it, our eagerness to explore and create.
Pretty soon we’re on autopilot and everything starts to feel the same. Tolerable, but uninspiring.
What feels aligned for me right now is to cry. What feels aligned is to slow down, and to acknowledge the pain that is going on in the world. To know I am just as human as all the people who are suffering right now. There is no reason why I should have it so much better. Yet I do. I send solidarity to all those who are suffering. I try to hold space for them. In small doses.
Being authentic means being willing to look at the things we wish were different in ourselves, in those around us, and in the world. And to allow the pain associated with it. Even if this means we can’t function for a while.
The cost of authenticity is that we feel our grief more keenly.
How do you make room to feel your grief in doses? Drop me a line to let me know. It truly makes my day to hear back from you. So please, keep it coming. Also, if you know anyone who could benefit from receiving these messages, please forward this email on to them. I want to inspire more people to live a more joyful, creative life.
With love and support,
Mary B.
P.S. New! Work with me 1:1. If you want to turn your anxiety, grief, and overwhelm into powerful art or a creative project, I’m here to guide you through. Read more here.
P.P.S. I’m in my new office. Next week I will send out a poll about the in-person group I’m planning called Journal Doodle Circle, an intentional space for practicing the life-giving skill of noticing and meeting ourselves and others where we are.
