I noticed that I tend to think something along the lines of
Everything will be okay. And even if it’s not, that’s okay too. You’ll get though this my love
The love bit was something I’ve been trying intentionally to instill. I’ve heard that positive self-talk can improve well being.
What do you think or say to yourself during those harder times?
I don’t have anything special really. Just an “It is what it is” and try to get through regardless.
Something along the lines of “it is okay to be anxious, change is scary, but so is stagnation.”
Alternatively, “How do you eat an entire elephant? One bite at a time.”
The elephant one is one of my favorites. Brings some levity to what might otherwise be a serious situation.
I guess I’m just practical-minded. “Shit happens. It’s not going to get better by doing nothing.”
My dad says when you feel depressed the worst thing to do is lie down.
Usually something like, “This too shall pass” or “The only constant is change.” Reminding myself of the impermanence of every situation makes present difficulties bearable.
What also helps me is the prospect of emerging on the other side of the situation as someone with more experience, more self-understanding, and greater resilience. Those traits are high on my list of personal values.
These were the words I used when discussing an upcoming potential termination,
“But the person I’ll be on the other side of [this crisis of maybe termination] will be no more absolutely or permanently diminished than the one I became after any other of the subjectively substantial life-changing crises.”
I’ve lived through some pretty painful shit. I feel quite angry about the misery I consider my life to currently be, but I still choose to live. With these words I was explaining that this “disaster” couldn’t be any more miserable than the sundry other miseries I’ve learned to live with. The consequences of this “crisis” may absolutely be something I will hate deeply and bitterly, but I doubt it’s going to be the straw that gets me to break this camel’s back.
“If I stop moving it will get worse”
As in, pain is literally dampened by dopamine, and dopamine comes when you move, so it hurts less when you move.
Like I’ve encountered some serious monsters in this life, that came as a result of procrastination. I’ve experienced hunger, violence, and disease that all came my way because I froze with fear and uncertainty.
As Confucius says: “It does not matter how slow you go, so long as you do not stop.”
It’s so hard to believe, but I remind myself that there is an almost magical barrier in front of me. It’s like an Indians Jones illusion. It looks like hell in front of me. But if I step into it willingly, it becomes heaven.
Like a door, and through the door is your living room, but you know when you step through it you’ll be in Narnia or something. A magical/hologram projecting doorway, that looks like it leads to Place A but actually leads to Place B, is the best analogy for my mind.
The reality I’m pointing at with the analogy is that leaning into it is the only way to make the pain stop. Because if you run from it, it chases you.
I was lucky to learn this in some long meditation retreats. It’s always about day 3 or 4 that I realize the only way I’m going to stay sane is if I actually meditate. And even though it’s sitting still literally, it’s the willing engagement with the thing I’m trying to avoid that makes it bearable. “The wisdom of no escape” is what Pema Chodron calls that, I think.
Somebody else once called it “Leap like a tiger while sitting”. That tiger’s predator face and posture is about as raw an expression of dopamine as could ever exist. And you get that dopamine rush, that cessation of the suffering, that only go straight ten thousand years try try try direction, when you stop trying to distract yourself with thoughts and accept that you’re there in the meditation hall and nothing is going to happen to relieve you of that.
It isn’t pretty, but it is beautiful: If you stop and cower, everything gets worse.
It sounds ridiculous, but I always tell myself “What can you do when you live in a shoe? Move down the block, live in a sock.”
The absurdity of it helps me deal with the absurdity of the world.
" Fall down 7 times, stand up 8 times."
Yes exists.
Honestly? Something my little brother shared with me from our childhood. Apparently, it was during a hard time in his high school years. He came to me for advice, and what did I say?
“Life is pain. Get a helmet, Princess.”
I have no recollection of this, but he swears by it and says that it’s gotten him through some seriously rough times ever since, so I’ve started saying it to myself as well. Seems to work decently enough, and I like knowing that younger me had a supportive effect on the little bro like that. 🤗🥰
is that second part a reference to something or what is it?
Best guess, I think the whole thing was a riff on the line from The Princess Bride, actually. 🤓
This is a moment. Take it bird by bird.
Life is like a long running tv show. Some previous seasons were awesome. This one sucks but I have to stay around to find out what happens next.
Doesn’t matter how bad it currently is, the curiosity to see which twist it pulls next is stronger.I remind myself of how awful a person I am and that the suffering I’m going through is not anywhere near what I deserve.
I give thanks to God that, for whatever reason, I’m given a better existence than someone like me should ever have.
That’s so dark - doesn’t sound healthy.
But interesting that it works for you. Thank you for sharing
Almost the same, but I give thanks that my conscience is being scoured clean by the pain.
I used to be pretty negative and aggressive until I realised that if I talked to anyone else the way talked to myself I would get hit.
Now I’m simple and encouraging. Generally a nice little “come on” followed by a simple “you’ll get through it”, “not long now”, “you can do it”, “it’ll be alright”. That sort of thing. If I ever had a coach for anything that’s how I’d want to be pushed.
When you’re knee deep in shit, the only way to get out is to keep walking.
