“I don’t want to deal with it.”

Some people avoid going to doctors because they “don’t want to deal” with what they might find out. Some people avoid relationships or contacts with people because they “don’t want to deal” with something — drama or conflict. Some people don’t want to go to therapy because they “don’t want to deal” with the pain of their past or the ongoing suffering in their lives.

I think what we’re avoiding is vulnerability. We’d rather keep imperfect facades of wellness, self-control, happiness, or stoicism. We’d rather pretend everything is okay rather than admit to others and ourselves that we are not all okay. We’d rather pretend we are strong and invulnerable than face the reality that we can be hurt. We’d rather avoid conflict or discord rather than face the responsibility of having our own power.

In my opinion, the very thing we “don’t want to deal with” is often what we absolutely need to become whole and connected to life.

Where does “it” go when we don’t deal with “it”? Sometimes time and circumstance conspire to free us of a particular burden, but in the interim, how much does this avoidance keep us suffering from anxiety, anger, or fear, which we keep stuffing back into the closet of Things I Am Not Dealing With? What about those problems that continue to linger in the background, gathering energy, becoming more terrifying or upsetting with every passing day? What about the unpaid parking tickets that become the court summons? What about the little lie that spirals into the big lie? What about the minor hurt that comes to symbolize everything wrong with the relationship?

What is invested in Not Dealing With Things? What do we think would happen if we Dealt? “If I know the truth, I’ll fall apart.” “I’ll never stop crying.” There are circumstances in life where we must abide with our emotional habits to survive. More often, I think, we become persuaded by a part of us that desperately wants to believe it is in control at all times and continues to throw out seemingly-rational excuse after seemingly-rational excuse as to why now is not the time to “deal with it.”

We might become convinced thatf there is no middle ground; either it must be rigidly in control or it is completely collapsed and a mess. This is a narrow view of what is possible. This is how we become stuck. This is how simple problems evolve into complex problems. This can feel like “being strong,” but truly it is powerlessness. We would rather feel overwhelmed or enraged by a huge drama rather than address the problem in the moment, to turn and dare to say, “I feel hurt by what you said.”

We can deal with things a little at a time, taking steps. We don’t have to do it all at once, but we benefit when we do what we can when we can. Notice the fear or anger. Breathe in deeply, filling the belly. Exhale completely. Then act. Set an appointment with the doctor. Pay the parking ticket. Open the letter. Make the phone call. Go to therapy. Open the door to stuckness, pain, or fear, and open it with purpose. Continue breathing.

Avoiding these “its” with which we do not deal means that they shape and run our lives. Choosing to face and address the “it” means that we, our conscious selves, are beginning to set the terms. Those first attempts might be awkward and clumsy. We may feel terrified or overwhelmed. We may find ourselves sitting with all our “stuff.”

If we keep going, we may find that we don’t always fall apart in the face of adversity, that sometimes we do get what we want, that eventually the crying stops, and that we can come through and find something else. We may find freedom.

Articles like “How to Belief in Yourself: 8 steps” offer “steps” with some helpful insight, yet bother me for their simplicity, particularly upon reaching the eighth step that says, “Believe in yourself!” (Creating a circular problem, in which one must be capable of believing in one’s self in order to complete the 8 steps to believe in one’s self.) People struggling with depression can live in this void of feeling eternally defeated, hopeless, and overwhelmed. Being told to believe in one’s self is not going to get the job done. Believe what?

We can start by identifying what we actually believe about ourselves. We might live with core messages like, “I am a failure,” “I am worthless,” “I don’t deserve anything I want,” or “My life sucks but it’s not my fault, it’s all these other people’s.” These shape the way we see life. Everything we encounter seems to confirm these core stories in some way. We might avoid doing something we truly want for fear of taking a risk, failing, and validating the core story. Many of us develop these core stories from real messages we receive during our lives, sometimes explicitly, often implicitly. For example, children from minority cultural, sexual, or ethnic groups might never be told overtly that society doesn’t value them, but the message is clear enough if they never see positive depictions of people like themselves in the media.

Simply being told to believe in yourself can feel like a dismissive, superficial feel-good sort of solution. Believing in one’s self does not seem related to finding affordable childcare so one can get to work and finish a degree, or trying to make a small amount of money work to feed and clothe the family while trying to manage bills and debt. Responding to those problems with “believe in yourself” can seem dismissive of the internal and external difficulties of our lives, or even saying that we are the primary cause of our problems and would not suffer so much if we only believed more.

In times of hardship, however, I think believing in one’s self is not a luxury but a necessity. I believe that human life is not about mere struggle for survival, but creating a life of depth and meaning. As with everything, I think this starts by looking inward.
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Nothing happens in my life until I show up. Much of my life has felt like a rehearsal, a waiting for something to happen, a feeling like somewhere in the world something was happening and it did not include me. I wanted connection and feared the risk of putting myself forward, showing up, being available to experience.

What do I keep cloistered inside, protected from others? What do I secretly hope will be seen and exalted, recognized and brought forward? What does my shame protect me from revealing to the world?

To show up is to be seen. To write a blog post is to be seen. To ask someone on a date is to be seen. To go into therapy is to be seen. If I want success, if I want a relationship, if I want health, then I must show up.

Showing up is a discipline and can feel harsh. When I imagine showing up, resistance comes up to tell me why I shouldn’t. All my fears and self-doubts, insecurities. Even my self-aggrandizing stories give me reasons not to show up. Instead of being vulnerable, I act superior. Sometimes I don’t show up because I think I am punishing someone else, not seeing how much I punish myself. All of these things are okay, they can show up with me.

I can be in a crowd of people and still not showing up. I can be hiding in plain sight. I can feel ignored, belittled, marginalized, and yet terrified of taking the risk to speak up and speak out, to be visible.

What in me wants to connect? What wants to be seen? To what do I keep coming back? Where does shame live? What do I fear will be seen? What do I secretly hope will be seen?

Showing up is always a risk, and there is no guarantee. As Thorn Coyle (who I hope I am not unconsciously plagiarizing) would point out, not showing up is also a risk. I might not be ready for change, might not feel prepared to manage the stress and anxiety of risk, might have a clear understanding of the negative repercussions of showing up. All of it is okay. All of it can be weighed against the part of me that wants change, wants movement, deeply desires an outcome I can only seek by showing up.

Showing up is a step. Often it can feel risky and vulnerable. The desire for safety and comfort is human and understandable, yet the thrill and terror of showing up in a new way will always be felt as a threat until we step toward it purposefully. Then, it becomes the fierce joy of living.

Please show up.

This week, I have felt gratitude for the wisdom I have received from the many teachers who have imparted for me a respect for the fundamental strengths and resilience at the heart of each person. Teachings that emphasize, moreover, that each part of us has value and worth.
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