Blessed are the Assholes

Hi everyone! Thank you for being patient with me over the past two weeks while I went through a major re-write on my book and my book proposal. I attended the Writer’s Digest Annual Conference and had the opportunity to pitch my book to literary agents. Four of them asked me to send them my book proposal and sample chapters, and I was so excited and nervous at the same time that I put in a week of work on re-writing and editing everything to try to look as polished and professional as possible. I sent everything off on Sunday and now I’m trying not to obsessively check my e-mail for responses.

Hopped up on adrenaline, I spent every waking moment for a week trying to get my work to a standard that I felt good about, and somewhere in the middle of all of that work I had an epiphany–none of this would have happened if it weren’t for two of the worst experiences of my life.

The first of those two terrible experiences was my own illness. I focus on healthcare and mental health in my blog and podcast because my book is the true story of my own terrible illness, which was brought on by a whiplash injury. I was in the middle of dancing with a partner, when he forcibly dipped me and seriously injured my neck. For reasons that are only now becoming clear, this injury led to a year and a half of severe migraine symptoms.

That was bad enough, but as I sought help from the medical system, doctors kept telling me that my problem was just anxiety. As a licensed and practicing psychotherapist, I knew that wasn’t true and found a way to heal myself through alternative means. Now I want to share this story in order to provide a road map for others who are struggling through illnesses and can’t get the help that they need.

The second of those two terrible experiences was a breakup that I went through two years ago. I thought I’d finally met the man that I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but after 10 months of the easiest relationship I’d ever had, he suddenly broke up with me. He said that he’d never loved me and wanted to go back to his ex-wife. I was devastated, and I’ve been struggling to move on ever since. But as I struggled through that intensive re-write last week, the thought popped into my mind, “I wouldn’t be on the verge of publishing a book if he hadn’t broken up with me. I would never have gotten this close to my life-long dream of becoming a published author if he hadn’t broken my heart. I’d gotten too comfortable to keep seeking.”

As I shared this thought with my own therapist in our most recent appointment, she nodded and said, “You know, I used to have a framed print of the words ‘Blessed are the Assholes’ over my desk. When people treat you badly, it often leads to the best parts of life.'”

Blessed are the assholes.

Hearing this line brought up so many memories. All of the times that life went sideways and I couldn’t figure out why. All of the times when doors kept slamming in my face and I felt that all of my choices had dried up. The former supervisor who ran me out of the company. The ex-husband who cheated. The friendships that suddenly ended over nothing. So much pain.

And yet, those parts of my life needed to die in order for new parts of my life to be born. I was clinging to things that felt incredibly important to hold on to at the time, but now I’m nothing but happy that they’re gone because better things came to take their places. I didn’t understand at the time that room was being prepared for what was to come next.

Please don’t misunderstand me. This isn’t an “everything happens for a reason” blog post. I hate that platitude so much. Nothing makes me feel more invalidated than, “Well, remember that everything happens for a reason,” when my heart is broken.

When life is messy and cruel, don’t invalidate the pain by anticipating that something wonderful will come out of it. It might. It might not. What’s important at the time is to acknowledge how much it hurts and allow yourself to grieve. It’s only when you come through to the other side of the healing process that you will start to see what came into your life as a result of the loss. Only then will you be able to bless the assholes for wrecking what you thought you wanted in order to show you that you could have more.

If I ran into my former boss who ran me out of the company, I would thank her for being such a jerk to me. If she hadn’t, I would probably still be working as an insurance agent. The idea makes me shudder.

If I ran into my former husband, I might thank him for leaving me, because if he hadn’t I would probably still be married to him (what a horrible thought!), and I would never have become a therapist.

And now I’m realizing that if I ran into my ex-boyfriend, who I thought I was going to marry, I might just thank him for breaking my heart. If he hadn’t I wouldn’t be here on the verge of becoming a published author.

Often it is through pain that we become our best selves. Blessed are the assholes.

Embracing Struggle

One of my all time favorite movies is The Princess Bride. It’s full of excellent quotes, incredible satire, and wonderful acting. In the past I’ve had a few Princess Bride quoting duels with friends that eventually dissolve into giggling to the point of tears. Recently I followed Cary Elwes (who plays Westley/Dread Pirate Roberts in the movie) on Twitter, and he has been posting some of his best lines from Princess Bride. Yesterdays was, “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

After a chuckle where I remembered the scene from the movie where Westley performs this witticism, I started thinking about struggle. Often, it seems that people are living life to minimize struggle and maximize pleasure. Advertising campaigns center around presenting a problem that people might identify with, and then showing how their product can solve it. Overweight? Well, try this pill. Dirty floor? Well, try this cleaning product. Frizzy hair? Buy this hair product and your problem is solved.

When hard times hit, as they definitely have in 2020, people tend to look forward to a time when the struggle ends and life goes back to being easier. When there is illness, people look for cures. When relationships get rocky, people look for ways to smooth them out.

Clearly, avoiding struggle is part of human nature. Often, I hear parents saying that they don’t want to their children to struggle the way that they did, and then they do their utmost to make life as easy as possible for their children.

While I understand the instinct to protect, and to seek ease, I wonder about the wisdom of this philosophy. Having had my share of hard times, I can tell you that struggle has led to the most growth in my life, the most self-reflection, the most fruitful changes.

An abusive marriage and ugly divorce led to my going back to school and becoming a psychotherapist. A terrible illness led to my journey into authorship, blogging and podcasting. A painful breakup led to intense spiritual growth and a desire to invest in learning about music and another language. When the fires of struggle show up, if we can embrace them instead of fight, they can forge us from a raw metal into a weapon of great strength and beauty.

On the other hand, we’ve all encountered people who are the product of too much ease and too little struggle. We joke that they were “born with a silver spoon in their mouths.” These people tend to be arrogant in their own ignorance of what it is to do hard work–what it is to truly struggle. Often they seem to look down on people who don’t have it as easy as they do, and seem to think it’s some kind of moral failing on their part that the world is harder on them. We call these people who haven’t struggled things like “entitled,” “immature,” and “green.”

Deep down we know that people need struggle to become fully-formed human beings, but we still do our best to dodge it at every turn, and to shield our children from it. We look at celebrities and wealthy people, who we imagine live a life of ease (although this is not actually true), and we think how wonderful it would be to live those lives, leading to even more discontent with the struggles of every-day living.

I would like to advocate for a change in attitude. Instead of looking down on people who are struggling and envying those who have a vapid and overly easy existence, I suggest that we embrace struggle as the transformational process that it is. I suggest that instead of thinking, “Aww . . . poor thing. She/He is really struggling right now,” we think “Wow. That person is really in the forge of the fires of struggle. I wonder what the finished product will be.”

It’s OK to be struggling. It’s a part of life. If your kid is having a hard time with distance learning, that’s OK. Working through that struggle, helps your child to learn how to deal with adversity. Most of us are struggling in some way with the pandemic. Perhaps the struggle is isolation, or joblessness, or fear of infection. Maybe it’s all of these together. And, yes, it is hard, but instead of denying or fighting the reality of your circumstances, I suggest that you ask yourself, “What are the lessons that I could learn from this time in my life?”

Now, I’m definitely not advocating for a “Pull yourself up by the bootstraps” mentality. That’s one of my top ten most hated phrases. What are bootstraps, anyway? And how am I supposed to pull myself up with them? No. Instead, treat yourself and others with compassion. Support the people in your life as they support you in return. We need each other, and there is no shame in that.

I’m saying that struggle is not something to hide from or be ashamed of. It is not something to apologize for. Each person’s individual struggle can be like a personal hero’s journey. Every hero starts out naive and untested, and then is strengthened by adversity. Nobody is born heroic.

I think it would be appropriate to end with a quote that was brought to my attention by Brene Brown in her book Daring Greatly. I think it captures this idea of embracing the formative quality of struggle perfectly: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat,” Theodore Roosevelt.