My unfolding

A few years ago, I found myself with basically everything I had ever wanted. And I was miserable.

At the end of our first session, my therapist said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do in your life, but it seems you’ve been making a lot of decisions out of fear, and I will tell you to stop doing that.”

She was right. I was afraid of so many things, most of them boiling down to control: losing it, having already lost it, and never actually having had it.

Control felt so crucial to me because I thought my happiness depended exclusively on my circumstances. I spent the first decade or so of adulthood focusing all of my efforts on those circumstances, building the things that I thought made up a good life: an education, a fit body, a family, a good job, a nice house, and an extensive travel log. And then I was surprised that I wasn’t happy at the end of it—not just surprised but also afraid of the feeling of misery itself.

I was independent, hard-working, bright, and resourceful, but misery? That was not something I could handle. So I tried to escape it.

Which led to more misery.  A lot more.

Until finally, I embraced misery as a friend. A friend who made me hunger for a clear-eyed look into myself, no matter what ugliness I might find. One who made me thirst for ideas and practices I’d never before valued or made time for. One who changed my focus from what I could accomplish to who I could be.

What I learned, what I am learning, is that life is not about arriving. It is instead a continuous unfolding. Of circumstances, yes, but much more vitally of our internal selves. And the more we uncover, see, and feel, the more we live.