There are moments and seasons for every human when the pain and uncertainty of life feel too terrible to bear.
An unexpected bill arrives and anxiety lurches your stomach. Too many bills. Sinking into the sea of overwhelm. Too much anxiety. A world informed by “not enough.”
But then… a friend calls, and as you’re talking and allowing yourself to be embraced by the warm blanket of friendship, you notice a bird on the tree outside your window. A different current arrives, one informed by abundance. The circumstances haven’t changed, but your relationship to them have.
You fall into the cesspool of social media, and suddenly everything about your life is wrong: your partner, your work, your house, your body. It’s all wrong wrong wrong. Everyone else seems to know the formula for living well, but you never received that note. Despair seeps in. You eat more than you want to eat. You forget to move your body. The anxiety has a field day. Relationship anxiety takes over: I’m with the wrong person. If I had chosen perfectly, I could avoid pain.
But then… you pick up a book and read words that remind you of the vulnerability of being human. You remember that everyone struggles, and that there is no escape hatch from life.
When you look up, the world feels okay again. One loving action begets another, and you decide to go for a walk. You meet a neighbor and have a lovely chat while petting their dog. More kindness. More okayness. A return to the goodness of the life you have chosen.
Parenting carries its own heartbreaking pain. It could be a small moment that you know is a normal part of life but nevertheless feels like it’s going to shatter your heart: your young child yelling at his sibling, then at the injustice of not having ice cream for breakfast, then at you.
A teenager shutting down, laughing in her room with her friends but refusing to share anything with you.
Your 12-year old’s mean sarcasm making you cry on the car ride to school.
There’s an awful arrangement embedded into the fabric of parenting: at some point every child, to varying degrees of emotional and physical distance, will leave. The sweet 6-year old who snuggled into your body day and night, sharing every last element of heart and mind with you, must individuate, which, by definition, means separating from you. They come back, again to varying degrees, but it will never again be the sweetness of picking peas on a summer day with your 5-year old, then running to the covered porch before the storm hits.
These are things people don’t tell you about parenthood.
But then, through tears… you look up and see a flock of geese honking across a pink winter sky.
And then… just hours after your teenager hurts your feelings, she holds your hand and tells you about her day.
And suddenly… all is right in the world again.
We cannot escape the anxiety, worry, pain, and uncertainty of life. These difficult states can attach onto any topic – money, relationships, health, the world – but it’s not really about any of these things. It’s about learning how to lean into uncertainty, to allow our hearts to feel the broad spectrum of pain that populates our lives, and in the leaning, feeling, and befriending, we walk through a doorway that lands us in a different place, returning to the goodness and abundance of this terrible, beautiful world.
There is pain everywhere.
There’s also beauty everywhere.
Isolation is everywhere, and so is community.
There’s uncertainty everywhere, and trust is the hammock of light that makes the uncertainty bearable.
There’s disconnection and loneliness everywhere, and connection is the medicine.
Scarcity is everywhere, and so is abundance.
Stuckness and flow.
Heartbreak and joy.
Everywhere.
We have to look with eyes that see.
We have to remove the temptations of endless distraction.
When we shift our focus and put effort into being here, fear-and-scarcity eyes can give way to clear-eyes. And life becomes a place we want to inhabit once again.
This comes at just the right time. The longing for a state of ease and steadiness, as if it is a destination I have yet to reach, is draining in its own way. Trusting that things move in the way they need to – ups and downs and turnarounds – helps me to ground myself and feel a sense of steadiness amidst the uncertainty. Thank you for your timely post.
Thank you for your insightful comment. Yes, I think it’s the longing for the impossible – an unblemished state of ease – that, ironically and paradoxically, creates more dis-ease. I’m glad the post arrived at the right time ;).
This is perfectly timed and your words are so truthful, Sheryl. So warming to all of our hearts. Thank you. I am excited to share your insights and quote you in my yoga classes throughout December. I feel this is the medicine the world needs to hear and remember – thank you deeply.
It warms my heart to think about my words being shared in your yoga class, Isabella. Thank you. 🙏🏽
For the first time in my life I feel that I am really learning to be with the discomfort of being human when it is present. I realised recently that I am always inwardly guarding against uncertainty and fear, rather than broadening my capacity to be with what is present. This inward guarding means I am never really able to enjoy the goodness of life.
It’s that moment of noticing when we’re guarding that changes everything. Then can choose a different response to the ever-present uncertainty that underscores so much of life.
Thank you for this post right now, it resonates on so so many levels. Your thoughts on parenthood are beautiful and heart wrenching and so true. I’ve been struggling and feeling stuck on wanting to freeze time with my kids, particularly my almost 6 year old son, savoring the last moments of his innocence while catching glimpses of the early signs of his individuation. This is a welcome reminder to make space for the grief and trust that on the other side of it, simultaneously, a different beautiful relationship exists.
One thing that I’ve been really stuck on, that I’m curious your thoughts about, is the recent trend in lots of people going on ozempic. I have a history of body and eating issues, and naturally struggle with dissatisfaction with body at times after having kids/with age. It really feels like this is the ultimate “escape hatch” or easy solution to the pains of life. It’s very hard for me to let go of the wish to change my body when I see so many people doing it so quickly through this drug. I want to feel good in my own body but this trend has really been triggering lots of anxiety and stuck-ness for me. I suspect a lot of it connects back to my relationship with my mother, who values thinness and youth an enormous amount. Wondering how you would help make sense of this.
I don’t know enough about the ozempic trend to comment, but I can generally say that the crux of my work hinges on self-trust, and trusting that there isn’t a “right” way to do life; there’s only what’s “right enough” for you.
I really understand the desire to freeze time when it comes to kids! We spoke to this in a few of our recent Gathering Gold episodes. 💕
Thank you Sheryl for these beautiful words that I believe so many humans would benefit from right now. I haven’t had children and I find the grief of that can pierce so deep at this time of year when I remember that I’ve never been able to take my little ones to visit Santa or help them decorate our Christmas tree. Then in another breath I’ll watch the news and feel such relief that I’ve not brought children into this world or hear about my friend’s struggle with her teenager. And I know that both are true and that I will always live with the grief and relief. As a HSP I used to wonder – as did my family! – why a soulful Christmas song would reduce me to tears that come from so deep in my soul but your work has validated my responses and feelings and I thank you so much for that. Remembering that life is about heartbreak and joy, and that both are a part of the human experience, is a tonic.
“Grief and relief” – yes, I think that applies to many things in life. When we say no to one thing we say yes to another. Holding both and making space of the all and the everything is, I think, one of our greatest tasks as humans.
A wonderful blog, as ever. My wife and I are currently wrestling with when (and whether) to start a family, given the tumultuous and frankly depressing times we live in. But as my wife wisely says, times have always been turbulent; information is just much more freely available now than it used to be, for better and for worse
Thank you, Joshua. Your wife is very wise :). There are many world economists and health experts who say that we’re living in safer and more prosperous times than ever worldwide. That doesn’t mean there aren’t serious problems, but yes, when the media ONLY reports on the problems we miss how much goodness and beauty there is in the world.
Love this so much!!! I feel the same way—especially with how the world has been lately—but you, Sheryl, put it so beautifully and make everything make sense again. There truly is beauty in all the craziness of this world, and blessings in every situation.
Thank you, Viviana. It’s always a joy to hear from you!
Beautiful article. A line that really resonated with me was, “It’s about learning how to lean into uncertainty, to allow our hearts to feel the broad spectrum of pain that populates our lives”. My question is, how exactly do we do we lean into uncertainty? As someone with a history of trauma, I tend to avoid uncertainty as much as possible.
Most of us tend to avoid uncertainty as much as possible. It’s the nature of being human, and yes, having a history of trauma will augment this resistance/fear of the unknown. I recommend Pema Chodron’s book “Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change”. My course Grace Through Uncertainty also helps people navigate uncertainty.