This past week has been a week from hell. Indeed, not an exaggeration.
I do not say that without junction. As psychotherapists, we are often hit with one of two things – “Oh, you can read my mind,” or “you must not get distressed at all. You know exactly what to do.” I wish it were as simple as that.
We definitely need help to read your minds. But here and there, at social gatherings, I will use it as my party trick. But to the second question, just because we provide psychotherapeutic advice that our lives must be perfect is a stretch. We might have the tools and knowledge to make better decisions and calm our emotions. However, we are still humans who interact within intergenerational and cultural traumas with individuals who, just like everyone else, are trying to find their best approach to life.
But, when a day of absolute chaos turns into a week which turns into a month and then a year and so forth … it is easy to question the worth of our lives. Sitting there in absolute emotional disarray and questioning why does life have a personal vendetta against us? Did someone make a deal with the universe to give us the bad chip? Is life always going to be this hard? And I did that this week.
After a long time, I sat there very angry against the world for not paying the dues I worked so hard for. Questioning if I do any good, is it worth the constant pushback? But even though this week of hell (and I stand by it, not an exaggeration), I reminded myself that I get to choose my approach. I get to choose my perspective. I get to decide how I want to handle this.
Life will throw us curve balls. Life will be a rollercoaster. Life may even have more lows than highs. But that’s what resilience is, isn’t it? Standing in the depths of hell, with fires all around you, knowing I have the strength to fight this battle. That I have the capability to maneuver through this emotional turmoil and still not betray myself. That I can take accountability for my mistakes and set boundaries with people who may not respect those. That even in obligation, I do not lose my sense of self. And know that despite feeling alone and isolated, I have people in my corner who will listen when I want to vent, wipe my tears when it is overwhelming, or check in to see if I am okay.
And so, even though my week is not over yet, I am here. I am here for myself. I am here for my family and friends. And I am here for you. Remember, a seed can grow even in the toughest environments as long as the foundation is healthy.
