On the first day of program last Monday, my group leader read an excerpt to us from a book called Atlas of the Heart, by Brené Brown. I was so taken with the excerpt he read, as well as the design of the book (it’s beautiful, and I’m a sucker for beautiful books), that I ordered it immediately. I spent much of the weekend reading through it, and there were quite a few portions that gave me food for thought, and I thought I’d share some, in case someone else could benefit from Brown’s wisdom, or perhaps is interested in my extrapolations. I’ll group them by topic below and list them, then share my thoughts on each:
1. On daring to remain connected to pain and vulnerability: “Trying to outrun and outsmart vulnerability and pain is choosing a life defined by suffering and exhaustion… The more I pay attention to my life and the messages from the edges, the more I’m able to choose a way of life that doesn’t demand constant vigilance and preparedness.” – pg. xix | “… in the midst of struggle, the center will hold if, and only if, we can feel the edges.”
2. On disappointment: “There are too many people in the world today who decide to live disappointed rather than risk feeling disappointment.” (emphasis in original) – pg. 50
My thoughts on the first two points are related. In the last year or so, I’ve realized that I’ve spent much of my life living in fear of pain. I’ve spent so much of my life in pain, and I think it’s natural that my instinctive reaction has been to shy away and fight feeling pain as a result. However, as I read Brown’s point that trying to outrun pain results in a life that is characterized by suffering and exhaustion due to the constant need for vigilance and preparedness, I realized that perhaps this is one of the factors contributing to my depression. I am so afraid of being in pain, so desperate to avoid feeling pain, that I actually end up extending my suffering of that pain and exhaust myself in my efforts to remain constantly prepared to avoid it. One of the central Buddhist teachings is that we can’t control whether we feel pain, but we can control our suffering related to that pain. The idea is that feeling pain is natural and a part of life. But if we try to fight feeling it, if we try to outrun it and outsmart it, as Brown describes it, then we actually end up extending our suffering from that pain. Rather, if we embrace the pain (which I realize sounds so extremely counterintuitive), if we accept it and allow ourselves to feel it rather than run from it, then we actually shorten the amount of time that we suffer from it. Brown continues in that section by quoting a common aphorism – “The center will hold.” However, she qualifies it by saying that the center will hold if and only if we are able to maintain our connection to the edges. So what is the center, and what are the edges? What does it mean that the center will hold if and only if we feel the edges? The center is us at our core, our very life, our soul. “The center will hold” means that we will make it through, we will remain strong and unbroken. But as Brown says, this is only the case if we allow ourselves to feel the edges – the edges of our ability to withstand and tolerate pain, vulnerability, disappointment, shame, all those negative emotions that we naturally run from and try to avoid. If we stick with our natural instinct to run away from the pain, to avoid feeling it, we will not be able to maintain our center. If, however, we allow ourselves to feel those parts, to stay grounded and open the doors to all those feelings, then our center will hold, and we will be stronger and more connected to ourselves and to those around us. For me, it’s so incredibly hard to stick with the pain. But that is the center of DBT – to learn how to breathe through that pain, to allow it to wash over you and even overwhelm you – because pain can absolutely be overwhelming (it often is for me) – and to realize that you will make it through these painful moments. And I think that as I slowly learn to stop fighting the pain, but to embrace it and allow it a place in my life, then my overall suffering will decrease.
I think that’s the central thought, too, behind that second point on disappointment. So many of us allow ourselves to live in disappointment because we are so afraid of actually having to feel disappointed. What does that mean? For example, maybe we don’t apply for that promotion, or ask that girl out on a date, or ask our friend to hang out, because we are afraid to be rejected and feel that sense of rejection and disappointment. But if we do that, we are essentially living in a state of disappointment, because there is no way for us to experience the joy of acceptance without the risk of rejection and disappointment. This brings to mind a quote that I saw from Tumblr, which goes along the lines of, “You cannot feel connection without showing up. The euphoria of knowing you requires the terrifying potential humiliation of being known.” Or, more commonly, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” I’m so very guilty of this. I don’t reach out to my friends, I don’t share my burdens, I don’t ask for help, I don’t allow people in, because I am so afraid of feeling the pain of disappointment, rejection, and abandonment. But the truth is, the higher the reward, the higher the risk. If we want to live the beautiful lives of connection and joy that we dream about, then we must embrace not only the risk of pain, but also the pain that will inevitably come, because not every risk will reward us.
3. On regret: “‘What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness. Those moments when another human being was there in front of me, suffering, and I responded… sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.'” – quoting George Saunders’ 2013 Commencement Speech at Syracuse University, pg. 52 | “To live without regret is to believe we have nothing to learn, no amends to make, and no opportunity to be braver with our lives… Sometimes the most uncomfortable learning is the most powerful.” – pg. 53 | “What we regret most are our failures of courage.” – pg. 53
I was just very moved by this idea that our regrets come primarily from when we fail to be courageous. Courage and bravery have always been an important value for me (I’m a Gryffindor for sure!), and I have a deep belief in not allowing fear to be the deciding factor in any decision. Brown says that we can regret a lot of things, and sometimes we do regret certain actions or decisions we make, but the regrets we feel most deeply are the regrets that we have for things we didn’t do. Times we didn’t take action, times that we didn’t do that thing that was risky or scary. And I was especially moved by this statement by George Saunders that his greatest regrets are his failures of kindness. I think it resonated with me because I feel the same. What I regret most are when I could have stood up for someone but didn’t, when I could’ve responded with kindness but instead responded with judgment, when I could’ve reached out to someone who was struggling but instead allowed myself to give in to the fear of looking foolish. I think the word “sensibly” is especially striking. So often we decide not to stand up for someone because we think it’s the “sensible” thing to do. We think about the pros and cons and judge that it makes more sense, that it is more rational, to shrink back, to not speak up, to not defend them, because then it might lead to issues for us. Or maybe we do say something, but we don’t say it loudly, boldly, with conviction. And when the perpetrator pushes back, we quiet down. It seems “sensible”, but then we look back, maybe hours or days or weeks or even months or years later, and we regret our lack of kindness, our lack of courage, because that decision, it turns out, doesn’t align with our values. Brown talks about values a lot in this section, about how regret often occurs when our behaviors and actions don’t align with our values, and I think it takes courage to stick to your values, even when it comes with risk.
I think overall, what I took away from these portions was the fact that I would like to dig more deeply into bravery and courage, particularly in the way that I engage with pain. I have done a lot of things to avoid pain, to avoid vulnerability, and it has both extended my suffering and frequently subjected others to pain as well when I lash out to avoid that pain. If instead I allow myself to engage with the pain, to embrace it and explore it and accept it, to be curious about it, perhaps I will be on my way to a fuller life, where I don’t avoid things that could be rewarding because I fear being disappointed or let down. After all, it is true, no matter how much I may wish it were not, that a fulfilling and vibrant life involves both beauty and joy as well as pain and suffering. But maybe I can lessen the suffering by approaching my trauma and my shame and the deep pain that I hold with courage, rather than fear.