You can only lie successfully to somebody if they believe you’re going to tell the truth. That’s what Marianne Talbot said about problems with virtue ethics.
I’ve heard people in movies say that the only person we can’t lie to is ourselves because the guilt would be too consuming. But pushed too far, that claim can become false. What happens when you can only trust yourself? What happens when you are your only source of comfort? By Talbot’s argument, we can successfully lie to ourselves.
“I’m fine” is the lie I had been telling myself until six weeks ago. It’s the lie we tell ourselves every day, whether it’s after someone screams at us after we’ve nicked a hand, or after dealing with a significant bout of anxiety. The pressures of being stable hang over our heads like glinting swords.
Six weeks ago, my grandfather died. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t unexpected, but it knocked the wind out of me anyway. Six months ago, my mother’s best friend died. Four months before that, my dog died. People also say that multiple traumas in a short span of time can make us resilient –– what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
Wrong. Sometimes, that repeated trauma can knock you right off your horse. I fell into a very dark place where I could no longer claim I was “fine.” I was anything but.
So when you’re not fine –– when you really just want to curl up in bed and lay there forever –– how do you help yourself?
I’d become part of a toxic mentality where resilience was praised and time off for yourself was looked down upon. Some would call that “hustle culture.” But what’s the point of hustling if anxiety and depression are treated as myths? It’s like the Gameboy version of Star Wars where you keep defeating Tusken Raiders to get past the sand but you get stuck in quicksand anyway. I was trying to avoid the quicksand by pretending it didn’t exist. And so, I became my biggest source of toxic positivity. I would force myself to keep going despite knowing and believing that I wasn’t actually capable of pushing anymore.
When I finally admitted that something was wrong, I was just in time to prevent harm.
There are three things I’ve done every day since I admitted to myself that I was not okay. They’ve worked for me but they may not work for you. However, some iteration of these things will likely help you stay afloat.
1. Let yourself feel the toughest of emotions
This one’s cringeworthy, I know, but it’s true for a reason. We’re too occupied in our daily lives, whether as students, working adults, or just humans. We’re too busy handing in assignments, meeting deadlines, earning money to pay the bills, and chopping vegetables for our next meal. Too busy to take a minute to gasp, or cry, or smile a little. It didn’t take a Nobel laureate to realize that my daily business stunted my ability to feel grief and all the other overwhelming emotions that were inside me.
When the tears come, let them flow. Bottling your emotions is harmful because they compound over time, so when they do come out, they can be destructive. So let it out. Even if it means you need someone to cover your shift for 10 minutes. Even if it means running out of a class to hide in the bathroom for a while. I did it many times before listing it as a reliable coping method.
2. Don’t feel guilty about asking for help
When my grandfather died, my family and I were already dealing with the loss of our dog and a family friend, as well as my compromised health. Every trauma came within an arm’s length of the previous one. There was seldom enough time to stabilize and consolidate my emotions before another incident came crashing down. But I always had people around me to help me deal with it.
This time around, I was all alone. It felt silly to pay someone to listen to me talk and cry, but I knew my mind only recognized therapy as a safe space.
If there’s somewhere other than your immediate family or friends that you feel is a safe space for you, please, go to that place. If you don’t yet have a safe space, ask a trusted friend to help you find one. You can find it in the most uncanny of places. One of mine is going for walks on a cold, windy night. It soothes me. I like to say it numbs my negative emotions, but really, it’s like the feelings go away with the wind.
Don’t feel guilty or ashamed of what helps you take care of your mental health. Everyone is unique in that regard.
3. Finally, forgive yourself
I think the predominant thought in my head all this time, even as I write this, is blaming myself for what happened to my grandfather. But in all honesty, there was nothing I could’ve done to save him. I was ten thousand miles away and he had already chosen to go.
You can’t foresee a traumatic incident hurtling towards you. No one chooses the terrible things that happen to them. Yet we get stuck in a cycle of “what ifs” that always leads back to us and what we could have done better to prevent the tragedies that plague us. But there’s nothing you can do to stop things outside your control.
So forgive yourself. Tell yourself that it’s okay to feel guilty. But, as doctors say, you did everything that you could.
I didn’t call my grandfather when he was conscious and lucid. I was too late. But I have to tell myself that the circumstances were extraordinary. That I had a reason. That he wouldn’t hold it against me.
And that’s what is keeping me going today.
So look after yourself. Grief isn’t easy and toxic positivity dilutes the process of grieving. There is no set “three magical steps to overcoming grief,” but there is a way to figure out what works best for you. Find ways to let go of the toxic positivity before grief finds you.