Beyond Hope: Finding Peace in Acceptance

I've been asked more than once, how I've kept going. "How are you still here?" It's a question I ask myself sometimes too. I've wanted to give in to the feelings of despair, more times than I can count. It's not that I didn't want to exist, its more that the suffering I was experiencing was unbearable and I wanted that to end.

I don't know all the reasons I've experienced what I have. Some hard things were caused by my own life choices - often choices I made in desperation or under duress because of the even harder things happening to me. But can the "why me" question - the one I know that many of us ask ourselves over and over, ever really be answered?

Like cascading dominoes, choices and actions that impact us began long before we were even a possibility. Generational trauma passed down through our family tree, collective trauma caused by the larger systems at play, the very nature of being flawed humans -all of these are part of the larger answer that make up the "why"- and it's important to learn about those things, but sadly, it doesn't make life any easier.

"How are you still here?" - my answer for a long time was hope. Hope that there would be something better waiting for me when I "healed". Hope, that if I just fixed myself- figured out what was wrong with me, worked hard to make myself better, more likable, lovable, smarter, prettier, "perfect"- I'd find myself on the other side of things finally greeted by happiness, and love and belonging.

I read once that HOPE is an acronym for Hang On Pain Ends. That hasn't been my experience. There isn't a final destination where you reach happiness and there's no more pain- to be alive is to feel pain, to feel loss, and sadness, just as it's also to feel joy, to love, and be loved. I don't think they can exist without each other.

When hope wasn't strong enough to sustain me in my darkest moments, the thought of leaving my kiddo behind took its place. The thought of how that kind of loss would impact them tethered me to living. I'm very lucky, because not everyone has a tether (and sometimes even the strongest tether isn't enough to hold).

As I've grown..err aged? And after many many years of therapy, reading books, going to workshops, and trying to find the answer to fix myself what I've discovered is --

I can't.

There is nothing to fix.

As much as I want to, I can not erase what was done to me. I can not erase the choices I made because of it. There is no factory reset button I can push or magic wand I can wave.

I've had different therapists say to me - "your past experiences have made you who you are, and you're a really wonderful person" and "you're resilient and strong because of what you've endured"- blech! is my response to that. Comments like that make me cringe, it feels like toxic positivity, it also feels like they're giving credit to the trauma I've experienced. I happen to know wonderful, resilient and strong people who haven't gone through what I've gone through.

Pain is a powerful teacher and catalyst for growth though, and I've learned what feels like a thousands lessons. I keep telling the universe- I'm good- I know enough thanks! No more struggle needed (not that I believe the universe or "God" is causing me trials and tribulations). Regardless, I don't expect it to be smooth sailing from here on out. Humans are going to be humans and hurt others in these broken systems designed to hurt us. I'm not suggesting that people should give up or resign themselves to suffering indefinitely. But I believe there is power in acceptance—in learning to live with the complexities of life. I'm still going to love and fear loss, I'm going to feel hurt, grief, shame and guilt. I'll also feel joy. Like the ebb and flow of the tides, hard times and happy times will come and go. It's the very nature of living.

Hope is what kept me here. But now?

Acceptance is what keeps me going.