Seth Godin published an insightful post last week entitled “Trading in your pain,” in which he outlines two common problems we can have due to our relationship with pain.
The first is the “if only” syndrome. We think if only something (fill in the blank) happens, then everything will be great and we won’t feel pain/discomfort/ uncertainty anymore. If only I meet the right person. If only I buy the right house. If only I remodel. If only I get an agent. If only I sell my first novel. If only my sales figures exceed a certain golden number. If only I win this award or make that bestseller list. If only I get this promotion. If only I was better or had more or …
That’s not generally the way things work, though. Whatever “if only” you’re hoping for (and I’m holding out for several myself), even if it happens, it will open the way to new challenges, new problems, new if only’s, and new pain as you strive. That’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not doing well. It doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It’s just life.
The second is the “fear of change” syndrome. We sometimes become comfortable with a certain flavor of pain or discomfort, and we hold onto it really tightly so we won’t have to deal with another, unknown flavor instead. We become frozen. Stagnant. Afraid of success and the new problems success will bring us. Afraid of a different failure mode and how that will make us feel.
Writers who don’t write are having this second problem. They are used to dealing with the failure mode of “I suck because I’m not writing” and don’t want to address whatever issues might come up if they actually did write: “I suck because I’m not selling” or “I suck because I’m not selling enough” or “I suck because now I have to make business decisions” or whatever.
But I see this problem everywhere, not just in writers. We make ourselves at home with a certain problem, and settle in for keeps. And in the process, we get stuck. We can’t move on; we can’t grow.
Our identity and our personal narrative become entwined with our pain. I’m the girl whose mother died when I was only nineteen. That’s not who I am anymore. It is, however, who I could have been. It is who I was for a period of years. And then I let go and moved on. Instead I’m the girl who loved her mother very much.
Pain can be your friend. It will be lurking nearby for your entire life, and that’s okay. It means you’re alive, and it reminds you that you care what happens. It can push you forward instead of holding you still. It can give you focus instead of causing you to scatter. It can make our priorities clear to us.
If you could shed one “if only” or do one thing that makes you frightened, what would it be?
“If only I was [insert name of brilliant author here] instead of little old invisible me.”
Yep. That just about sums it up.
Thanks for this post and making me take a look at myself, Amy. Painful, but for good.
Ah yes, wouldn’t that be lovely? I notice that I can always come up with writing-related “if only’s”–if I achieve one them, it is instantly replaced by something else.
If only I was less broken, if my health was the same now as it was when I was 30 or even 35 (I’m 45 now, and disabled). But since that’s not possible, if only I would win the lottery – even a smaller one – so I could afford health insurance, meds, doctors, a home and all the stuff people need to live.
Only that’s not realistic either, so if only SSDI would start paying me instead of asking me to jump through endless hoops. Because stress over the paperwork, worry about whether I can buy meds or groceries makes my health worse, and that’s not a situation I need or want.
Wow I sound angry – oh wait, I am angry. If this is inappropriate, feel free to delete it.
But your post is a good one, and the old me would much rather have the if only(s) that I did back then. I miss caring about things like creativity and having fun.
No, your perspective is important. Everyone has their own individual sufferings, and for some, thinking about “if only’s” is really not going to be relevant. The fact is, so much pain has no easy answers, and sometimes no answers at all.
But I do think some people make it worse than it has to be for themselves with this sort of “if only” thinking.
Oh how I agree with that! All “if only” and no action is a bad, bad thing.
I think If Only is both true and false.
If you’re living paycheck to paycheck, if only you got a raise/inheritance/lottery that no longer left you living with the perpetual stress/fear associated with that. Removing that burden was that greatest relief I ever felt in my life. But when an If Only comes true it doesn’t change things like a snap and new challenges always lie ahead. You will still have pain/stress/fear, but sometimes If Only coming true does make a marked difference.
On the other hand, as much as I’d love to get a million dollars and retire tomorrow, there are difficulties that come with that. I’m a very ordered and structured person; I feel days when I work or have a specific goal are far more productive than when there’s nothing I absolutely have to do today yet a long To Do list to get done soon/eventually. My life would be amazing If Only I could retire young to do all the things I want to do…but it would bring new challenges of motivation and creating structure in my day-to-day life almost every day.
The grass is always greener… sorry. Couldn’t resist the cliche. 🙂
I think goals are good. And dreams and wishes and all that jazz that keeps us motivated and interested. And there is nothing wrong with wanting to improve one’s life.
But, I do wonder if focusing on “if only’s” that we cannot control can become a barrier to happiness, or at least a certain peace of mind. On the other hand, if thinking of “if only’s” motivates you to do something to improve, more power to you!