I suppose it's about the old "what cannot be cured must be endured." So the question becomes, not why, but how? How do we find ways not only to keep going, but to find life and light and joy around those things we cannot change. Or, maybe (maybe!), cannot change yet.
It's that *yet* I need to hang onto. Because "yet" hints at hope, hints at a time when maybe endurance won't be quite so necessary, when we can relax into what is without the heavy burden of what if and if only.
My strengths do not lie in handling changes in routine. Perhaps that comes from a childhood spent moving around so much, but my guess is that I would have been like this even if I'd been born and raised in the same small town. And, who knows? Likely, that would have been worse. We can't know, but, what's more, we can't change what we are, not when it's woven that deeply into the fabric of our being.
But, yes, I (we) can adapt for short periods of time, at least. My problem is that, despite my carefully cultivated discipline, my impulsive nature, matched with my anxiety over the anticipation of change, results in opening my big mouth when, really, all I meant to do was sit quietly through the storm, no matter how long it's meant to last.
Well, what can I say? Best laid plans and all that. Anyway. Where is this going? No idea, except to say this: we cannot help, in large part, who we are. We need not apologize for that, but fear is no excuse for not keeping a civil tongue in our head...
Change your angle! Change your perspective! At least you have/don't have... Gah! I don't mean to be cranky, I don't, but that kind of advice is rife in our circles and, while it is so often meant to help, all it does (much of the time) is frustrate the one already frustrated.
And no one outside of our own suffering can relieve it--not with words or actions, gifts or appeasements. But there is this action--to sit with the sufferer, if they'll let us, and just be with them. Know in your heart you've been there (because goddess knows you have), and if they ask, tell them that.
But otherwise, stay silent and just hold presence. Let that be the picture they come away with--not of you desperately trying to fix a situation impossible for you to fix in the first place.
This is a lesson I have to remind myself (teach myself) almost daily, by the way. I am an inveterate fixer, and I forget that it's no...
We all (more often than we'd like to admit, I'm sure) resort to the unhealthy to balance an upsetting event/day/month/year. And while we may judge that the occasional bout of shopping therapy is nowhere near as damaging as binge drinking/eating/drugging/etc., we'd be mistaken. Or, at least, pretty judgy and playing with the borders of hubris.
See, we don't really know why a person drinks, or eats, or shops. We don't know what demons that person is fighting. We don't know that drinking (or whatever) isn't the lesser of several evils, several more damaging options. Is it healthy? Well, no. But we aren't either, not all the time. While we sit in the judgement seat, sure, we probably feel pretty balanced. But if we're prone to judgement? If we love to look at others and think, "well, at least my coping mechanism only affects me/my bank account/my weight/etc.," well, I hate to say it, but that's probably not balance.
Judgement is its own addiction, and it's just as caustic to you...