“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” – Viktor Frankl.
I’m at a stage in life that a lot of my peers, family members and friends are going through as well, due to geographic and industry-specific turmoil. Money is tight, work is intermittent or completely non-existent. It’s hard to see mountaintop views when there are so many choking, dark clouds. I’ve been blessed with relatively steady work throughout most of my working life. I held the same occupation in the forest industry for over a decade before I decided to quit and broaden my horizons. Instead of sticking with comfort and familiarity, I needed a clean slate. I wanted to take the knowledge that I had gained from my former occupation and bring it with me into a job that was better suited for my goals, needs, and mental health. So, even though I quit my job, I carried on in the same industry. Since the downturn of the forest industry, for the first time, I’ve been sidelined by thoughts of how to make it through another week. Like thousands of others, I lost my stream of income and have had to make ends meet however possible. Along with those thoughts of survival, come feelings of failure and self-doubt. My inner dialogue is full of questions of where I went wrong or different choices I could have made. And, like a large portion of the population, my brain is wired to worry in stressful situations. In the past, my anxiety ensured that worst case scenario was usually my first thought. And although I’ve strengthened my ability to recognize and deal with negative thought patterns, in times of high anxiety, my capacity to formulate rational thought can still become chaotic. It’s like trying to watch a movie while someone repeatedly changes the channel on the TV. I know there’s a solution to my problems, but I can’t quite grasp enough information to make it useful to me. As my thoughts become more interrupted and clouded, my brain’s efforts start to wane and defeat becomes a nearing reality. We all have weak points within us. It’s times like these that my weaker self speaks the loudest.
As I reach a point of frustration, unknown, and confusion, my weaker self wants to say, “fuck it,” and just give up. The resiliency of the weaker self is paper thin. It’s not something to trust or rely upon. It doesn’t like pain and it avoids discomfort at all costs. Like a spooked trout in a river pool, the weaker self darts for safety and hides out until perceived threats have disappeared. My weaker self has kept me from reaching my potential for far too long. It’s kept me concealed from the failures of trying new things. It’s held me in a comfort zone that’s stunted my growth. Most notably, my weaker self painted me in a portrait of victimhood. It’s trained me to believe that the world has plotted against me, to keep my abilities suppressed.
Is life shitting on you, or are you just not trying hard enough? It’s a serious question to ask yourself. And I say it bluntly, only because it’s how I ask myself that question. Tiptoeing around important life queries is a sure-fire way to get the wrong answers. Brutal honesty is your most successful path. When my depression reached a level that made daily life unsustainable and I hit my turning point to give up for good or get better, I had to take a sobering look at why I was in that state. The gist of it; I disliked who I had become, but even worse, I wasn’t putting in the vital work to be a better version of myself. I made numerous half-assed attempts to get my shit together, and of course, none of them worked. This only added to my wall of failures. You can bring a hundred highly trained soldiers to a battle or a thousand general infantrymen. Chances are, the special forces will have less casualties and better odds at winning that battle. Meaning that, you might think you’re putting in 100% effort, but training your mind, learning about your enemy and unleashing your full strength takes planning, forethought, patience, and time. Your moves must be calculated and surgical. Have I mastered this? Absolutely not. I still catch myself waving the white flag for a chance at comfort. But awareness is half of that battle. I know now that my failures overwhelmingly rest on my shoulders, and if I can try again, even with 5% more effort, I can get better, a little bit at a time. Placing the blame on extraneous entities is always easier than doing something about your situation and bitterness thrives in toxic environments.
Were you put on this earth to make some faceless corporation money, pay your taxes, and die? Probably not. Yes, you have bills to pay and obligations to meet. Your job is a means to an end. You need it to eat and live comfortably. But times of weakness, when your survival is in question, are great opportunities to see your life from a new perspective. When you have nothing, that’s the pivotal moment when you’ll learn what’s most important to you. These are times when community and the act of helping others are best showcased.
In his book, “Dublin Tenement Life,” Kevin C. Kearns shares an oral history of what it was like to live in the slums of Dublin, Ireland throughout the 1800’s and early 1900’s. Accounts of extreme poverty, filth and disease fill his pages. Kearns quotes an essay written by Reverend James Whitelaw in 1805, where Whitelaw records,
“…ten to fifteen persons in a room not fifteen feet square, stretched on a wad of filthy straw, swarming with vermin, and without covering, save the wretched rags that constitute their wearing apparel…a degree of filth and stench inconceivable, except by such as have visited those scenes of wretchedness.”
Fleas, lice, and rats infesting every square inch. Tuberculosis killing children, buildings collapsing and burying families. Rampant alcoholism, no work, no money, and no food. Yet, the oral testimonies are largely made of happy memories. When everyone you know is suffering and ALL you know is suffering, humans tend to share their pain. They come together and help one another out. They make the best of a terrible situation and find ways to survive together. The stories in this book paint a picture of what it means to be part of a community. Years later, survivors of the Dublin Tenements were asked by Kearns if they would go back to that old life. The answers were a resounding “yes.” The residents of the tenements were family. There was always bread to share and blankets to borrow.
Remember that when you are in your darkest times, when outcomes look bleak, you are not alone. You have a community standing behind you. Whether its failing mental health, addiction, or financial pressures, you share your suffering with people who are willing to prop you up and share their bread. Stand boldly and face the fire that threatens your livelihood, awaken your strength, and rise from these desperate times. Conquer your weaker self, or your weaker self will become you.
The generosity that I've witnessed and experienced in recent months is eye-opening. Thoughtful strangers have come out in droves to pad the survival efforts of those in need. It's been a great example of how empathetic and caring humanity can be when we work together towards collective health. Keep up the good work!
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