Today I found out that it’s ok to have an element of negativity in your life. To think negative thoughts is in fact very healthy for you. That people who experience some level of negativity actually have a one up on people who always have a positive outlook on life. I found this strange. Actually, it’s downright weird, to tell you the truth.
You see, I was told that people who tend to think negatively usually are prepared for the worst case scenario in everything. Because their outlook on life is grim, they tend to brace themselves against hardships – they come up with a plan B, C and sometimes D, E, and F! As a result, when things do happen to fall through, it’s ok, because their plans take action. The sunny people, who always see the glass as half full have a lot of difficulty coping when bad things happen due to their bright disposition. Their fall is very steep, and when they do fall, it’s into sudden, severe depression because they don’t understand the events which took place, and don’t know how to come out of it.
To me, neither one is good actually. What is ideal is a balance between the two. This was foreign to me until today, until I actually understood what this meant. You see, I’m finally happy. I am very happy. Friggin happy, actually. And I totally love feeling this way. But in the past, when I would feel this happiness, I believed that this couldn’t be true, that it was unsustainable. I would wait patiently for all pieces to fall. This feeling was crazy scary. How could things be so perfect? Not possible, I say. Something has gotta give. And then I would get this dreadful feeling in the middle of my chest, and a brick would be placed in the pit of my stomach.
I would go around and unconsciously try to sabotage my happiness. I didn’t deserve this! But what I didn’t know was that the icky feeling is actually another one of those dog-gone-it survival feelings. That self-preservation tools that our very intelligent life provides for us. That dreadful feeling I feel when things are going so right is what keeps us real, prevents us from getting lost in the moment. It keeps us grounded, our feet on the floor and our heads out of the clouds.
For example, have you ever been in love and adored the person so much that you feel you have to pinch yourself to see if this love is for real? That you can’t believe that things are so perfect? And then you begin to panic, it’s too perfect, and so you wait for the bomb to drop. That bomb is what I’m talking about. That is your temperature gauge. It is telling you to keep an eye out for yourself. Don’t get lost. Be aware at all times.
The risk of not listening to those feelings is getting lost. You build your belief system about the other person to the point of perfection, to the point where you trust them more than you trust yourself. To yourself, you become unworthy, second best. You don’t know that you’re doing so, but you do. I have been there, many times actually, and when that bubble your living in finally pops, and trust me it will, you will be left lying naked on the bathroom floor in a puddle of your own tears. Your entire life that you have lived to that point will then feel like a lie. You have trouble trusting, maybe not others, but definitely yourself. And when you don’t have trust in yourself, life is very grim.
So with this new understanding I gained, came many, many questions. The big question was “how?” How do I implement this into my life? I began by acknowledging these doubts, fears and anxieties. When they came to visit, I pulled out a chair for them, I welcomed them. And I sat with them. I really took a good look at what they were doing to me, and listened to what they were saying. And most of the time, it also hurt like hell. It’s not easy to do this, it’s downright cruel, but it’s also necessary. You need to examine the parts of yourself which, for some reason, you have been avoiding – perhaps a fear of leaving a relationship and being alone? Or being vulnerable by loving someone? Or maybe just standing up for you? Whatever the reason, the process sucks. But it works. There were times while sitting with these feelings I felt as if someone had one hand around my neck squeezing, and the other in my stomach stabbing. I hated it. But I know now that it’s something which I needed to experience – in order to grow, to cope, to heal. It’s a way to stay alive and not get disillusioned, a way from getting lost.