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(This is the seventh post in the Serenity Prayer Series)
Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts. -Arnold Bennett
There is a pattern I’ve observed within my life, over the years, that I think speaks to the issue of resistance when it comes to making changes in one’s life. And the pattern I’ve noticed is this: when you feel uncomfortable most of the time—when you regularly experience persistent pain, fatigue, anxiety, intestinal distress, depression, brain fog, etc.—the thought of making oneself FURTHER uncomfortable is NOT APPEALING.
And I’m not gonna lie—the older I get, the less I want to take the risk of inviting pain on top of pain. The less I want to be uncomfortable. The less I want to push through the daily drawbacks in order to reach a higher level difficulty. The less I want to pursue discomfort or purposefully live in it.
I understand change inevitably brings a certain level of difficulty or discomfort. I really do. I’ve experienced it as truth, not just as theory. I have, many times in my life, made hard changes for the better that have been extremely uncomfortable.
I just don’t want to do it anymore.
But I know, of course, this is impossible.
The issue, of course, when you live with a chronic issue, is that you spend so much of your time uncomfortable that it feels as if you are constantly banging right up against your threshold for tolerance. Tonight, for instance, as I sit writing this, I am struggling to pay attention and compose sentences because our weather has shifted by 40 degrees within the past few days and my hips and lower back are quite vocally registering their complaints about the situation with the rest of my body. This would be fine, were it not for the normal level of pain I experience daily—and the additional level of “oomph” the barometer has given my perpetual headache.
Usually, I can write through the pain. Sometimes, I may not even notice it. But there are other times when pain on top of pain on top of pain on top of endlessly draining fatigue becomes, shall I say, DISTRACTING. To say the least.
It is at these times that trying to push through the pain becomes an exercise very similar to the willpower threshold you hear psychologists talk about. I hit that same wall of ego depletion—the point at which self-control poops out—just getting through day to day life sometimes.
Because much of the time I’m doing all I can to remain functional and keep my crap together, the thought of adding to my stress load by introducing changes to my life, my routine, my diet, my habits feels like it will break the load limit. It feels as if I were to become even further uncomfortable, I will very likely lose it. And some days that’s probably not far from the truth. But what it creates is a constant anxiety that I should be doing more (and often WANT to be doing more) that crashes repeatedly up against the desire to not have everything in my life be uncomfortable or difficult.
I used to think, as have some of the key people in my life, that this hesitance or tension within me was an issue of laziness or an inability to do hard things. But I know now, in this season of life, that this is not true, nor has it ever been. Whether others believe this, I cannot control. But I have gotten two master’s degrees, written a manuscript, run a half marathon, lost 100 pounds, raised two children, gone on two mission trips, received several promotions, spoken about twice a month for the last two-three years, and much more. I CAN do hard and uncomfortable things.
I just can’t do them ALL THE TIME. I have a limit.
And I both hate and must learn to embrace that.
So, when it comes to change, there is a hesitancy to invite further discomfort into my life that I must be aware of and learn how to manage.
Another area I struggle with resistance—as I’m sure some of you do, as well—is when many of the things I need to change feel downright unchangeable. Losing weight, for instance, has always been one of those struggles for me. There have been many, many times when I’ve done “all the right things” only to have my body not respond to those things. Weight is but one of these issues. My health is another—the headaches, the infections, the fatigue, the insomnia, the hormones—you name it. When changed behavior does not equal bodily results, my frustration level overrides my level of willpower and often I give up.
For instance, I need to rework my eating choices in order to reduce inflammation and I need to establish a yoga routine. If you know me at all, diet and exercise are the bane of my existence. FOR. REAL. I often feel I have no more power over my own body and appetites than I have over the weather. The thought of needing or wanting to lose 50 pounds and entirely rework my diet and get my body regularly moving again is completely overwhelming.
I can control what I do or do not put in my body, but I cannot control how my body responds to those things. I can control when I lay down in bed and turn the light off, but I cannot control whether my body will actually fall asleep. I can control the number of steps I take in a day, but I cannot control whether or not my metabolism actually wakes up and does its job.
But one of the things this prayer is helping me to do, when things FEEL unchangeable, is to begin to break something down and look at which portion of the thing IS changeable.
So, what CAN I actually change?
I can’t control my weight, but I can stop using caffeine. I can take sugar out of my diet. I can commit to walking on the elliptical or outside for 15 mins every day WHEN I CAN. I can work more restorative yoga into my routine. I can try a cleanse.
Not all of them at once, of course, but at least a few of them at a time. Or maybe just one. And if it’s just ONE, that’s okay.
Because focusing on the WHY, not the OUTCOME is key. I’ve focused for years on the outcome. Who doesn’t? If I’m going to become further uncomfortable for a season, or even indefinitely, I want there to be an outcome. RESULTS. I want to see it’s making a difference. I don’t think I’m alone in this.
So where, then, does courage come in? Courage means looking at the situation differently. Courage means doing the right things for the right reasons. Courage means not focusing on the outcome but on the benefits and on the process. Courage means eating healthy even if I never lose weight. Even if my pain never goes away. Even if I never gain back an ounce of energy. Even if I never notice a single improvement.
And courage means identifying and overcoming the resistance itself.
Because that is, of course, where the problem really lies: our resistance. Which is almost always rooted in FEAR: The fear it will not be worth it. The fear there will only ever be discomfort. The fear that I will fail and not be able to maintain change. The fear that I am beyond fixing. The fear that this is all there is. The fear the only trajectory from here is down. SO. MUCH. FEAR.
And that fear requires from us not just courage, but COMPASSION, as well.
Because only compassion can breed the type of courage we need to change the things we can.
So this, then, is our charge:
- Recognize one thing right now that we CAN change;
- Identify what creates resistance within us to that change;
- Offer ourselves compassion toward that fear; and
- Exercise the courage to do the one thing. Right now.
Not because we are chasing an outcome. Not because we are afraid of what others will think if we don’t. Not because we’ve been guilted or shamed into it. Not because we think we “SHOULD.” Not because we have to prove anything to anyone. Not because we have to prove anything to OURSELVES.
But simply because we’re worth it.
BECAUSE WE’RE WORTH IT.
The discomfort is real.
May your courage be greater.