I Have Decided To Stop Finding Comfort in My Misery

This is me, building a new home

I had been working all day long. Writing, checking my students’ work, answering emails, editings other people’s posts. It is fair to say I was a bit stressed up. So, I decided to pause for a moment. I needed to relax.

In that spirit, I sat back and closed my eyes, trying to empty my mind from all and any thoughts. However, I soon found myself indulging in sad memories — instances in which people hurt me or let me down. Of course, I also remembered moments when I was the one to make an unskillful choice, thus bringing pain to someone else.

Now, let me be clear here. I was not getting any pleasure from this, and yet, I couldn’t help to realize that when I let my mind do some decompressing, I tend to default to blue memories and bitter visions of the future.

It starts by becoming aware.

How long have I been doing this? Who knows? It has been a while, but I guess it is only now that I have become aware of this. Between the ending of a 20-year relationship, the loss of a cherished friend, the realization that I don’t like my job anymore, and much more, I am in a state of rebuilding Me.

In this process, I have taken an honest look at my decision-making skills, my level of emotional maturity, and how I have let past traumas control the steering wheel of my life.

Now, this is not a self-deprecating post. I have gone through some hard stuff, and certain people were at the other end of it. However, there’s nothing I can do about them. So, instead, I want to focus on myself.

Therefore, I need to be candid about how I have allowed misery to become a safe emotional haven whenever I feel out of balance.

Misery becomes a safe place to live.

Sadness is not fun. It is a horrible place to live, and it will suck the flavor out of anything enjoyable in our lives. However, when you have spent most of your life in pain, when people you trusted, from your parents to your life partner, hurt you while claiming they were doing it out of love…you kind of get used to being miserable.

No, you are not enjoying it. And yet, it becomes a familiar place...a sort of home where you feel safe. You know where the thermostat is and which doors creak when you open them too fast. You know at what time of day the sun will hit the hardest and how, unless you wipe it every day, the kitchen table will collect dust and grime.

You know your way around. You can find anything with your eyes closed. Strangely, despite all of the pain you have endured there, the idea of stepping into the outer world becomes terrifying, even when you claim you are tired of living in a world of agony.

So, even when you have found your way out — at least physically — in your mind, you find ways to stay trapped.

I am done with misery.

When you least expect it, you become an expert at not fully enjoying life. You will only half put your heart into the world since you know giving all of you is dangerous.

This is a tricky situation, for it comes from a place of actual pain. In my case, I have to be careful not to gaslight myself into thinking that nothing ever happened.

Lots happened. People did things to me. And it hurt.

But all of that is in the past. The question, of course, is, how many days, months, or years should a person devote to this healing?

There isn’t a fixed number — it will be different for everybody. After all, we are only human; we cannot readjust our settings just by pressing a button.

I think it depends on our reactions to the opportunities happiness throws our way. Are we resisting them because it would mean detaching from this pain that has become a sort of cozy home that we have gotten to know so well?

Are we passing on opportunities to grow and learn because it means this misery might disappear, and we will have to learn how to handle joy? Are we terrified we’ll get to love this delight, only to see how it is taken away?

I suppose that if our decision-making is coming from a place of fear, then, yes, we need to accept the possibility we are attaching ourselves to misery just because it feels safer than the real world.

It isn’t.

When it comes to my own life, I have decided that whenever I find myself thinking, “I can’t do this because I always ruin everything,” or some other old favorites such as, “Everybody wants to hurt me,” I’ll take a step back. I’ll interrupt that train of thought and ponder what is really going on with me.

I know I have to be careful. In the past, I have shown a tendency to trust too much and too fast. That’s not good. But to go to the other end of the spectrum seems like a sorrowful way to live. And I am done with misery.

Yes, from time to time, I still feel the need to get my “dose” just so the world will stop spinning. But I am learning. I have become aware of it, and I’m discovering more helpful ways to live this, the only life I’ll ever have.

So, this is me, building a new home. And this time, I’ll do it in the land of peace and happiness.