Falling down, and getting back up

“When in doubt, do without”

Not a quote from my thrift shop calendar this time, but a slogan from the Twelve Step world.

Twelve Step programs and slogans. They go hand in hand. A commonly used slogan in my fellowship is: “When in doubt, do without.” Since the very beginning of my recovery, this has been a very helpful guideline for me: if you're not sure, don't do it.

It's unbelievable how often I think (note the word “think” here...) that something is a good idea, but it turns out not to be. Often, something sounds really good rationally, I can't think of any arguments as to why it wouldn't be a good idea, and then I do it. And by doing it, I feel that it's not good for me. That it was an idea in my head, but that my gut feeling, my soul, God in me, is telling me something completely different.

For example, I have an agreement with myself that I will no longer read self-help books. I know why I set that boundary for myself: self-help books force my process and pull me into the pit, instead of pulling me out. Then I read about psychological concepts, trauma, or whatever, and it pulls me deeper into my pain, awakening things that should not be awakened. Don't get me wrong, sometimes it's very appropriate to look at the past. I don't think it's something that should be kept hidden, on the contrary. The more that comes out, the more healing can take place. If I don't do it, it stays locked up in my body and I remain sick and trapped. But there is a time and a place for everything. That place is in therapy (with someone who has studied how to best guide me through this) and the time is the time that God shows me. Often that is through life itself. For example, I once had an experience where someone accidentally touched my arm on the tram and I had a huge trauma response. That's the kind of situation life throws at you, and then you know there's unprocessed trauma in your body that's begging to be seen and processed. There's nothing you can do about it, and that's just fine. These are situations that are emotionally painful, but necessary and even welcome in the healing process. But reading psychology books is not for me.

Nevertheless, last week I broke my own rule and read such a book. I had prayed about it: is this a good idea? Is it possible? Does it feel right? I had my doubts (when in doubt, do without!), but I told myself that I would just try it and see how I felt about it. And when I read the book, it felt like the answer to all my problems, to life itself. ‘If I understand the problem well enough, I can solve it all and life will be heaven on earth.’

Yeah, right.

As strange as it may sound, to me it felt no different than using mind-altering substances: this is amazing, I want more of it, this is the answer to all my problems, and if I have enough of it, then I will be happy. The feeling afterwards was exactly the same: terrible. Emotionally, I was empty; spiritually, I felt alone and abandoned; and physically, it felt like I had a crazy hangover. Including nausea, headache, insomnia, and neck and shoulder pain. Unbelievable. Just from reading a book.

But it's not about reading a book. It's about going against the natural order of things. That I wanted to use something other than God to make me ‘whole’, to fix me. In this case, it was scientific knowledge, but it could just as easily have been something else. Relationships, buying things, a busy schedule filled with all kinds of activities so I don't have to face myself,...

Distinguishing what I need and when I need it is not always easy. Sometimes reading certain literature, buying things, or doing fun activities is exactly what I need. Sometimes it's not, and then it's an escape. It's not always easy to know what I need and when. Sometimes I make mistakes in my judgment, and I've learned that that's okay. That I can learn from my mistakes without judging myself for them.

A few years ago, I couldn't do that. Back then, I would beat myself up emotionally for days. I was so incredibly hard on myself! I would never be that hard on my own child—or anyone else, for that matter. I would say that it's part of life, that we learn from it, that we fall and then get back up again. I've learned to talk to myself the way I would talk to others. Lovingly, tolerantly, and with compassion. That it's okay to fall—knowing that I learn from it for the future—and that I can then actively take steps to get back up. And that's what I did this time. I deleted the book from my e-reader, attended several online meetings (the effect of which is incredible!), ate well and healthy, and went for a nice walk in the woods. I took good care of myself and felt completely fit again in the evening. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually! The difference was night and day.

Sometimes we fall. That's life, and it's part of it. But we can also get back up again. I do that by surrounding myself with the right people and by practicing self-care and self-love. That way, I can learn from this life lesson and grow from it. And next time, it will be just a little bit different and easier.

Just a small—but important—side note. Today, I am able to get back up, but that has certainly not always been the case. I suffered from depression for years, and even after the worst stage had passed, I was still unable to do the right things. I wanted to do the dishes, but I simply couldn't. I wanted to change my sheets, but I didn't have the mental strength to do so. Getting up was impossible. And so I asked for help. From friends, from family, from an organization that—for a fee—helps sick people to do these kinds of things. I couldn't do it alone, but together we could. I saw it as a kind of crutch that could support me. Over time, I was able to put that crutch aside, and today I no longer need it. I am very grateful for that. But what I want to say is: I get it. Sometimes it's impossible. Ask for help, from whoever or whatever you need. You are never alone.

Nathalie