Enjoy the misery

Can our worst enemy become a welcomed friend?

If only I could be as happy as my dog Koko

It’s the middle of July and I’m about to go on a canoeing trip in Algonquin Park. So far this summer I’ve spent many days at our family cottage, spent time with friends and family, played tennis and rediscovered my love of puzzles. But in the midst of my own personal paradise of sun, swimming, and freedom, I am not alone. I am frequently visited by my longtime nemesis misery, who shows up in all seasons but whose appearance in the wonderful days of summer, my favourite time of year, is all the more galling because it seems so unjustified.

We each have our own experience with a lack of peace, whether it’s fleeting and situational or chronic for no apparent reason. For the first couple of decades of my life I thought any unhappiness I felt was mostly externally generated. I believed I just needed to learn to do the right thing so the world would behave the way I wanted it for my upsets to be gone. But as I grew out of my twenties I came to realize that my emotions weren’t actually anyone else’s fault. That the internal landscape where joy and despair lived was only affected by the outside world due to my conditioned reactions to it.

What didn’t change was my childhood belief, reinforced by the world I grew up in, that I needed to make bad feelings go away. And I’m grateful for that belief since my quest for happiness and peace has taught me incredible things that certainly have made my life journey both more full and more joyous. I’ve learned the benefits of releasing others from the obligation of making me happy, to stop blaming the world for what I feel is wrong and instead tackle my inner demons through everything from spiritual pursuits to music to running as long a distance as my legs will let me. I’ve read wonderful books, listened to inspiring and comforting speakers, and had transformative sessions with my own personal counsellors. I’ve dipped my toes into the teachings of a variety of religions and have revisited my Christian roots, finding wise words about life and love in the pulpit and sacred writings.

Yet there is something in my quest that I’ve turned into pressure. In pursuing the idea that there is infinite peace and joy, that it’s here within our grasp, and that we need only to open our eyes, breathe or have faith, and we will be able to access it, I’ve set a bar so high that I feel as if anything but joy is a failure. And that a moment lived without peace is both a personal shortcoming on my part and a gravely missed opportunity to live as I am meant to.

But the reality is that so far, in my experience of life, it’s been easy for me to feel unhappiness. It can start in the morning, when I open my eyes and don’t feel quite right. Thoughts rush in to explain my dis-ease - that I haven’t found the right purpose, that I should have a different job, that I should be doing something to help the world, that I don’t have the right attitude to life. I’ll cast about for something to lift me up, and sometimes my efforts will work - the fresh air of a walk will invigorate me, the satisfaction of cleaning up a mess in the kitchen makes me feel useful, a journal entry helps dispel my fears or cares, or an examination of painful belief shows me a lighter way. But sometimes my efforts don’t work. The day can go by and things will just get heavier and heavier until it seems like my failure as a person is complete.

So there’s a limit to the success of my make “bad” feelings go away approach whether its through eating or enlightenment. Plus that strategy has the huge downside of making it incredibly difficult to cope with bad feelings when they won’t go away.

I think I am finally realizing that my painful emotions of sadness, anger, disappointment show up, and leave, on their own schedule. My job when I feel them is simply to keep going with my day, however I can. If I can power through them with work or play, great. If I can use one of my spiritual tools to learn from them, great. But if I have to surrender to just plain misery, what if I simply welcomed it as a friend? When my children were babies and cried inconsolably, I just held them until it passed (at least that’s what I did in my good parenting moments). Perhaps that’s all we need to do for ourselves. Just be there with the misery, and when the inevitable self judgement of misery comes, recognize it as part of the misery package.

I’m fortunate that my anguish does pass on its own - today is one example where two hours ago I felt unable to move, and now I’m filled with energy again - to connect with all of you, to pack for my camping trip, to have dinner with my family. I don’t know why misery shows up in my life the way it does, but after 51 years of trying unsuccessfully to fight it, I think it’s time to give up the battle and live in peace.

I hope you are having an amazing summer full of joy. But if you find yourself overtaken by painful feelings at any point, please know that this essay is not to tell you to look for the bright side. It’s to tell you that I’m with you in the darkness too, and you’re just as lovable there as when the sun comes out to shine.