Rain but no rainbow

There is a pretty good chance this post may make some people uncomfortable because it's real and raw and doesn't really have a happy ending or a moral, and stories like that aren't everyone's cup of tea. There is also a chance that some people will be comforted by an untidy story that they might be able to relate to. And some people, coming upon this blog by chance, may see that it's called "Chasing Rainbows" and think it is all about positive experiences. It isn't, though I certainly do try to find the rainbows in the midst of life's storms most of the time. To see a rainbow, the sun will be behind you and the rain will be in front of you. You will not see the rainbow while looking toward the sunny part of the sky. In fact, the best rainbows will be seen when you face the darkest part of the sky. And that's what this blog is about: facing the darkness and finding the light and encouraging others to do the same. But not this particular post. 

I'm not going to candy coat it: Life has been hitting extra hard the last few months. It's not one thing, but it is one thing after another, and the pile feels pretty crushing at the moment. I have been swinging daily between anxiety, which says, "Everything matters a lot," and depression, which says, "Nothing matters at all," and PTSD, which says, "The things that used to matter most, still matter most." I'm not writing this from the other side of it like I often do, when I've discovered the lesson and am ready to implement the growth. I'm just in it. Right now, I don't see the rainbow or the sun or anything other than dark thunderclouds. The storm is too all-consuming, and new storms keep rolling in. There is not yet any light in the sky with which to make a rainbow. Today is better than yesterday--which is why I have even found the motivation to open my computer to try to string words together with the hope of unraveling some of the tangles of my mind--but the skies are still very gray. I am staring at the darkest place in the sky, wishing I could see the rainbow, and all it is doing is staring right back at me and continuing to spit in my face.

I feel a bit like Lt. Dan in "Forrest Gump" when he shakes his fist at the sky and challenges the storm to a showdown. I'm more of a tears person than a fist person, though. I tend to experience my emotions (all of them) with tears, and the tears have been pretty free flowing in the last few months, despite whatever happy images you may have seen of me on social media. (And, of course, life is not ever all bad, so those images are real, but they don't feel like the complete story of me.) I have experienced tears of sadness, hurt, anxiety, frustration, anger, fear, stress, regret, shame, guilt, resentment, helplessness, hopelessness, self-pity, compassion, concern, and uncertainty. And there have also been tears of pseudo-resignation as my higher self works to just accept things as they are. But, honestly, these have not been tears of genuine resignation, because in my heart I don't really want to quit fighting and raging at the things Life is handing out at the moment. So much of it feels unfair. So much of it feels like it is out of my control. So much of it feels unfixable. And I'm not yet ready to look for the silver lining or even to pretend like one exists. 

So here I am raging at the storm, hoping I might come out of it at some point in a peaceful state like Lt. Dan did, but not fully ready to accept the lessons (and losses) it has for me, because what I really want is for things to be the way they were before the storms hit. I want a season with calm water, with sunny skies, with time to just float and not feel like I am having to constantly bail water or exhaust myself with trying to keep the boat from capsizing. But that is definitely not the season I'm in, and it seems like a lie to pretend otherwise. 

So, yeah, no happy ending. But you can't say I didn't warn you. As much as I wish it was otherwise, not every storm comes with a rainbow. And sometimes another storm hits before you can recover from the last one. That's reality. And that's where I am. 

(I do believe the sun will come out again eventually and that rainbows are still possible. But that magic is clearly for a different time, which I could have waited for and written about, but the need to be authentically me in this moment got the best of me.)

Big emotions during family game night

I am embarrassed to say that last night during family game night I became unreasonably annoyed at how the games were going for me, and I decided I needed to take myself out of the last game (and out of the room) in order to preserve my peace and in order not to be tempted to say or do things that would be hurtful to my family. I think this was the right move, even though I felt pretty horrible because that is not the person I want to be...and not the person I usually am. I don't want to be a quitter. I don't want to give that kind of example to my kids of how to handle uncomfortable/unpleasant situations. I don't want to sacrifice my peace FOR A GAME. It felt like a truly ugly version of me that I wish didn't exist. I am pursuing peace like its my full time job, but, alas, I am a human, and no matter how much work I've done on myself, there are still triggers that can make the process feel like one step forward, two steps back. 

After beating myself up for a while, I decided to dig deeper and see what was actually going on. It didn't seem fathomable that I would be that upset over games of chance that I have played without incident thousands of times. And that's when I began to realize that there are some things going in my life that truly do have a significant emotional impact that I have been feeling like I need to push aside, that I need to become (or give the impression of becoming) indifferent about since there doesn't seem to be a clear resolution for them. I feel like my expression of those emotions needs to be stifled for a variety of reasons. Earlier in the evening, my sweet husband had asked me if I was doing okay with regard to something that he knew was having a big emotional impact on me, and I even said to him, "I'm just trying to ignore that."

But here's the deal about things that have a big emotional impact: they don't go away just because we don't want to face them. The emotions will find their outlet. Maybe while you sit in traffic. Maybe in the slow checkout line at the grocery store. Or maybe on family game night. And then the outsized reaction will seem ridiculous (but maybe safer to express). But those reactions are begging us to take a closer look and see what's really going on. For me, the breaking point was playing games where I was doing everything right and trying to move forward only to have the game itself and the other players block my progress. And that happens in life as well. I have often felt like I'm doing all the "right" things and still not being able to make the progress I want to make, still not being able to "win." And the way the games made me feel tapped in to how life makes me feel sometimes. It can feel so unfair and demotivating. It can feel like there are too many things I can't control, even though I am truly doing the best I can. It can feel like there is no way to win. 

My big emotions weren't really tied to the games at all. They were related to other things going on in my life and they came out in the games because I haven't been giving them proper expression elsewhere. Instead of trying to see them and understand them and heal them, I've just been trying to ignore them, trying to wish them away, and trying to convince myself that I'm okay when I really am not. Anger is a guide. It shows us what really matters to us. Our work is to figure out what the anger is telling us and to find the proper way to approach the other big emotions it is escorting. I'm thankful my family had grace for me last night. And I'm thankful family game night has given me a new level of motivation to sit with and try to resolve the underlying issues. 

If you are also experiencing seemingly unreasonable instances of anger and frustration in the "small" areas of your life,  I encourage you to ask yourself what is really behind it and then do the work to address the underlying issue, even if it is something you would rather ignore. The emotions won't be silenced. They will just find different outlets for expression.