The problem with suffering is it’s sticks like being in a puddle of tar (yes, that’s an old cartoon image since a tar puddle isn’t too common a problem nowadays). Suffering makes us get stuck in the moment as it reduces our ability to think logically. The most logical we tend to get is to ask questions like: “Will this ever end?” and “Why me?” Even when we get out of being stuck in the tar pit of the moment, suffering makes things more memorable as tar residue remains on us. The problem is anxiety is sticky. The downside is for really scary situations this can lead to PTSD. The plus side is this is why you can study better the day before an exam rather than a week before. It’s also why running over your notes the last five minutes before an exam starts can be helpful. We were designed to have anxiety stickiness because our body wants to protect itself. By remembering scary things, we will hopefully learn and avoid them in the future. That way we don’t keep walking into a pole because we’re looking backwards while walking and talking to people. Yes, that’s a real example for me. My question is why do people always seem to turn around just in time to plant their nose into the pole? It’s like the nose is a magnet: “Don’t worry head. I’ll take this one. Eyes get ready to tear up.”
One of the best ways to get out of the moment and/or to later erase the negative feelings from the anxiety stickiness is through humor. Our worst moments, can often lead to our best stories and funniest moments. For instance, the other week I had to tell all my clients about my minor concussion because I couldn’t have the lights turned up to normal levels. It ended up being a fun thing to share, especially because at first, people were generally very concerned (although maybe they were concerned my advice would be a little coo coo-y), but after I was done sharing, they’d laugh: (client) “So you got a minor concussion from being on a ride? A ride can do that?” (me) “If you’re special like me, absolutely.”
So, here’s what happened. On the fifth day of our trip to Florida for the Sea World parks, my family went to Epcot… you know, because I can’t go to Florida and not see a Disney Park. If you’re like half the people I talked to and have no idea what Epcot is (as a Disney addict, this fact shocked me), it’s the second oldest of the four Disney parks in Orlando being made in 1982 to celebrate my second birthday (that last part might not be true). Instead of a castle, it has a giant golf ball type globe that glows different colours at night (which is extra trippy when you’ve just had a concussion: (me a bit spacey) “The colours are moving!”) I have to say, it was shocking how many people have never heard of Epcot. Come on. It’s Disney! Oh, right. Most grownups don’t care. Too bad for them. They’re missing out… not on minor concussions, but the parks are fantastic.
I should point out that since my teens, I’m not good with rides, especially ones that shake, spin, or go backwards (or sometimes even move as it turns out). On Sunday, my girls convinced me to do this one rollercoaster at Sea World that ended up being more than I expected. It was also more than my wife expected as she was behind me screaming, “You better not throw up on me!” Notice, she wasn’t worried about me being sick. It was being sick on her – that’s 11 years of marriage right there. Fortunately, no chunks were thrown, and I recovered fairly quickly. The next morning at Epcot, we started with a flying simulator ride called Soarin’ I’ve been on before and was fine… but not this time. It left me a little woozy, which was odd. We then walked across the park to do a kid’s ride about Ratatouille. Again, I was left not feeling right. Next, we walked to the far side of the park where we did the Frozen ride – yet another kids’ ride that left me not wanting to eat and give my stomach ammunition. In my defence, it temporarily goes backwards, which is never good for me, but in the past, it’s such a small backwards moment it never bothered me. This time I was left, “Oh, this isn’t good.” Again, nothing from my insides was shared with the outside world, but my throat had a visitor knocking at the door. While my wife and mother-in-law went to find food, I took my two older girls on Test Track. I thought this was just a ride where a car drives fast for a bit, and I was right… kind of. It starts with a series of tests like “Let’s test the brakes,” and suddenly it’d jolt stop. “Let’s see how well it turns,” and suddenly back and forth turns. It was like the car wanted a solid cleaning of the interior later. Fortunately, I got through it. After a visit to the aquarium our fast pass was ready for the Guardians of the Galaxy roller coaster, which is praised by many as the most fun ride at all of Disney and one of the best roller coasters you can do. I had never been on it… and never will again. After the ride, my eight-year-old was screaming “That was awesome!” while I was gurgling, “I need to lay down.” I was out for an hour and half laying down on a bench while the kids played in a little park. Even my 74-year-old mother-in-law was like “That was a lot of fun.” My body sucks! I’m also a little dumb because it took me three hours before I thought to ask my wife for Advil – genius. By 9pm, my head was feeling normal-ish, which was refreshing. The crazy thing is I paid a lot of money for a ticket to that park. I then paid extra for the fast pass to do that ride. I essentially paid $350 to be sick. There are definitely cheaper ways to achieve that end.
Over the next six days I noticed I wasn’t right. Bending over wasn’t my friend… and not in the “I’m old” way, but in the “Whoooooaaaa… I could pass out” way. I normally like background music… but not then. Loud noises were particularly painful… and completely unavoidable when you have a toddler in a phase where she randomly screamed – that was great. On the sixth day, I had my wife and mother forcing me (the way wives and mothers can) to go to the doctor who confirmed I had a minor concussion and not just motion sickness that wouldn’t go away. That’s a new level for me! Goal achieved – I’m weak. Fortunately, I wasn’t bad enough to need a CT scan and the doctor simply recommended managing symptoms like not having the lights too bright or sounds too loud, you know, the opposite of what I had been doing for the last six days because I thought I had to push through the pain – oops. He also recommended Gravol if I felt spinny or woozy. It has definitely given me better appreciation to those who have had much worse concussions because even at my level it’s frustrating. Sounds are everywhere… especially around three young girls… and working with clients who pay you to listen.
In the last lesson I mentioned how this trip was discouraging for me. Fortunately, the concussion was not a major contributor to that because by finding the humor in it, it was easier to accept. What’s been interesting is how I had no idea how much I nodded my head when I listened to people. All week I had to hold my head still with my hands and try to use my eyebrows to show I’m listening because nodding my head would make me sick – impressive I know.
What was funny (if you’re warped like me), returning to the airport to come home was the climax of discouragement and frustration, which is great when you have symptoms of a minor concussion. We were already 30 minutes behind schedule between herding people (I think herding sheep would be easier than my family) and an explosive diaper in the pool by my two and half year-old who refuses to be potty trained (that’s its own frustration). While driving the half hour to the airport, my middle daughter was often whining about something, my oldest had to be told eight times to stop singing (she developed this desire to randomly make up songs she sang in a voice meant for an auditorium), and my youngest was having random tantrum scream moments all the while I’m not realizing yet that I had a minor concussion two days prior – that’s a bad combination. I was not my friendliest self on that drive, but more of a grumbling “Stop it,” because I learned pretty quick my head didn’t like others being loud, but me yelling was the worst; you know because I had a concussion.
After realizing the GPS was making us drive in circles around the airport instead of going to the parking lot and then being on a shuttle that kept stopping to pick up more people in order to do its impersonation of a clown car that had more in it then it should, we finally got to the WestJet check-in counter. Fortunately, during the shuttle ride there was a family sitting across/beside/on us that had less than an hour to get to their plane while we still had over two hours. We were behind schedule, but we were way ahead of them, which helped me relax a bit. Recognizing how others have it worse can be very helpful for reducing discouragement – the second tip for dealing with discouragement.
At the WestJet counter, my youngest was losing her mind because she thought we were giving away our luggage. The ladies working there were very nice about it, but then the one who was a woman about my age but said she had grownup kids at home (because I’m the age of someone who should have older kids), shared these brilliant three sentences: “Cherish these times. They’re only young once. These are the best days of your life.” Um, my daughter is screaming so loudly it’s echoing down the halls and hundreds of travellers are now praying that they’re not on the same flight as us. Maybe that’s not what I want to hear right now.
I was recently talking to a twenty something who was struggling because he’s often told, “Enjoy your twenties; they’re the best years of your life.” I also remember hearing as a teenager, “Enjoy your teens; they’re the best years of your life,” or in university, “Enjoy your school days; they’re the best years of your life.” First off, they can’t all be the best. Second, when I was a teenager, I was stressed about setting myself up, so I’d have a better future. When I was in school and in my twenties, I felt this stress even greater. Now, as a parent, I’m like, “This is it? This is what I put all that work into being able to do?” When you have these moments, it’s hard for someone like me not to feel discouraged because you can’t help but wonder “Is there something wrong with me or am I just a failure at life?” The reality is when you’re drowning (and have a concussion), the last thing you want to be told is “The water you’re in is such a blessing.”
Based on the scale we’ve been looking at, when you’re an Inferior Minded Person like me, this supposed-to-be-encouraging platitude about something being the best can be incredibly discouraging because you don’t feel this greatness people talk about. The truth is I love my kids… it’s just easier to love them in photos, which is one of the reasons I love these trips – for after. I had great moments in my teen years and in my twenties, but they’re also better in photos because you can ignore all the struggle that went with all of those ages. It’s like wedding photos. Everyone is smiling, so it can be easy to forget about all the struggle leading up to the day and the uncomfortable moments on the day like the times of exhaustion. Every age should have great moments if we’re pushing ourselves to do new things and meet new people. No age is the ultimate. No age has to be the worst. They all have their benefits, and we need to try to appreciate every age we’re in and make the most of them.
That’s a demonstration of the third way for dealing with discouragement – consider the logic.
The fourth tip to fight past the discouragement is to consider what you can learn in order to bring some positivity to the situation. For instance, I had mentioned this trip was the hardest one I’ve ever done, but there were incredible moments. The best thing (besides watching the animal shows at Sea World) is I ended up having some alone time with all three of my daughters. Not only did I see how they’re better behaved on their own (and not as loud), it reminded me that I need to set up a time to spend an afternoon with each of them on my own, which I was already thinking of doing. A trip or moment might be bad, but when we give it purpose, it can still be incredibly valuable.
This week may you consider how you can use these four tools to help battle discouragement.
Rev. Chad David, ChadDavid.ca, learning to love dumb people (like me)
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