Reasons Known, Reasons Unknown
How therapy changed my lenses of viewing phenomenon
I didn’t sleep last night. And it wasn’t my first time.
It was a funny kind of insomnia, the fatigued-alert state kind of sleeplessness. At least I think the brain was rather quiet, interjected by moments of to-do things. For a slight moment before erupting in frustration, my head sang back, in clarity: This happened for a reason, whether or not I know it. And that’s okay. I surrendered, and calm returned to me.
A few months ago I would have got up in a nasty temper. I’d on purpose tell others “You know how shitty my sleep was?”, hoping that a pity party or shared misery made me feel better. But did I?
As I looked back on times I submerged in “Poor me” thoughts, I felt my words on point. Poor me. The gravity of these words hung on me the whole day. And true to gravity, I couldn’t defy being weighed down even when I wanted to shake it off.
Though it momentarily felt better knowing others knew my pain, I unknowingly magnified the situation. Pain is inherently a subjective emotion and/or sensation, and pity is good at highlighting the negative parts of pain, saying “Look, I’m hurting bad”. Having personal knowledge of hurting + knowledge that others know my hurt = hurt multiplied. I was digging the wounds deeper.
This morning was different in a good way. What I’ve been telling clients have in a way sunk into me — to give up the struggle over things we have little/zero control over. And our bodies work in this way, we never have full voluntary control over what they do/not do.
Telling myself that for reasons known and unknown, sleep just turned out this way gave me (almost) immediate tranquillity. It gently shifted my thinking, allowing me to surrender willingly.
Though I can’t say for sure I would feel fine and dandy all day, I believe that things happen for a reason or for many reasons. I might know some, or not know some (human wisdom is limited), and it didn’t really matter.
What mattered was my knowing that I have grown.
