I Didn't Die.

And I am certain that discomfort won't be the thing that kills me.

As many of you know, before I became a psychotherapist, I worked in the corporate world, and seemingly had a “great life,” based on what the externals looked like.

Yet, I didn’t feel“happy” where it really counted: those moments when I had nothing to do, no one to hang out with, nothing to distract myself from ME. When the quiet set in, I felt empty, I felt alone, I felt disconnected.

AND the discomfort of these feelings sometimes was so intense, my Ego convinced me that I had to find something to do to avoid that pain at all costs.

So, I would desperately turn on the TV, eat something, call someone, use alcohol or drugs, anything to rescue me from the intensity of my distress.

What I did not understand is that the pain I was feeling wasn’t life-threatening (even though my Ego was screaming at me to “DO SOMETHING, because it feels like I am going to die”

Of course, the amygdala, or the primitive part of the brain (where the Ego hangs out) can’t tell the difference between real danger and perceived danger.

If we are in a situation that prompts a thought like “I am vulnerable,” that will trigger a feeling of fear.

This feeling activates the amygdala, which stimulates the release of our stress hormones, namely adrenaline, cortisol and norepinephrine.

Our body literally prepares itself for survival with reactions to fight, flee or freeze. Once this happens, if we don’t already have a pre-determined way to override this physical and very primal process, we are stuck in it until it runs its course.

During this time, our pupils dilate, our heart rate increases, our breathing quickens. We may have a panic attack, we may lash out at the people we love, we may withdraw in to silence, we may dig ourselves deeper into resentment or guilt.

In extreme situations, we may even contemplate ending it all because the feeling of being “gone” seems easier to deal with than the torture of sticking with the pain.

When I think back on some of the ways I tried to distract myself from what seemed like agony, I am often stunned that I am still here to tell my story.

I use this realization as an inspiration to do just that: tell my story and share some of the tools I discovered along the way to help me create a bit more space not just to tolerate my discomfort, but use it as indicator of the places that need my attention and my love.

There was a point where I simply had no alternative but to ride the waves of my pain. I had run out of things to distract me; and found myself in situations that I realized after the fact could have killed me enough times for me to let go and hand all my pain over to something greater than me.

I knew I wanted to live, and yet I had no idea how to get away from pain I was trying to avoid. So I gave up trying. I surrender to my discomfort.

And you know what happened? I didn’t die.

I cried. And I cried. And I cried some more.

But these were no longer tears of martyrdom. I released the story that had been telling me that I am powerless. I let go of the idea that my happiness was based on something external, and therefore completely at the whim of forces beyond me.

I allowed myself to feel sad about the losses I had experienced.

I let my grief flow through me.

I stepped into my disappointment that things were not exactly how I had planned.

I embraced my loneliness for what it was: I wanted to share my experience with someone, yet there was no one around at that particular time.

Sadness, grief, disappointment, loneliness. I wouldn’t say that any of these feelings are fun. Yet, all of them are natural and healthy emotions; responses to loss, missed opportunities, lack of human interaction.

And then, eventually, the tears stopped. The heaviness lightened. I felt hopeful again. And with all of that energy having been released, I had a new sense of motivation and desire to make some necessary changes. Changes that I only could have recognized by looking at and being curious about the pain.

Pain is not suffering, unless you try to avoid feeling it. It is an ironic truth that stepping directly into your discomfort is the only way to truly move through it and release it, delivering you to the joy of your life which sits on the other side of it.

Can you embrace your pain; can you turn into your teacher?

Do you have a way to override the primal process of fight, flight or freeze?

There is a very practical method to do so which is actually very simple. Note, I didn’t say easy (but you know that nothing worthwhile is ever easy).

Of course as simple as this method is, if you don’t know what it is, you can’t use it. And if you can’t use it, you can’t practice it. And if you can’t put it to practice, nothing will change.

Your life will remain on auto-pilot, with you reacting from fear, repeating all the patterns that you know don’t serve you.

Your pain can easily turn into suffering, discomfort can turn into misery.

Don’t let another moment go by in anguish.

(Use Your Discomfort as Your Guide)