A few Words on What Resilience Isn't
It’s been a long week. (Month. Year.)
I’ve been particularly busy this week with clients, prepping for a second Linkedin Learning course and, of course, watching election “night” coverage.
But I’ve also been busy moving rocks.
At the end of last week, my sweetie and I got a truck load of boulders and a few dozen medium-sized rocks dumped in our front yard. I didn’t plan it as a therapeutic intervention, but I gotta tell you, it has been.
On Monday morning as we were eating breakfast, my sweetie (who is retired and not tied to a computer and a schedule) said, “I think I’ll start moving some of those rocks today.”
From a place in me that was half-whine half-defiance I said, “No!”
Thinking that my opposition was me not wanting to saddle him with all that work, he politely said it was no big deal. And so, just to clarify, I looked him in the eye and said, “There is so much about my days that feels Sisyphean and I just want to put the effort into moving a big rock to right were I damned want it to be and have it stay there! Do NOT take that away from me!”
He got it. And so, after my days in front of the computer and before the early darkening of the sky, I’d put on dirty clothes and garden gloves and I’d roll some rocks around the front yard for a bit. And it felt sooo good. And then I’d sleep sooo well.
Dear reader, I needed those rocks this week. But even so, I’ve been hard on myself that I haven’t published more articles in the last few weeks or offered some special program to help others. I teach resilience and social and emotional intelligence, after all. What better time for more of that in the world?
But I’ve also been tired and a bit apathetic and, apparently, in need of hauling heavy shit around with some kind of certain outcome.
I say this because I had a bit of wake up this week about how the message of resilience can often sneak its way into being used to defend against vulnerability: if you’re truly resilient, you can’t also be vulnerable. You can’t have bad days, or feel what you feel without thinking it’s a bit weak.
The message of resilience can slowly harden into something that sounds a little too close to “power through.”
But resilience doesn’t just mean that you can do hard stuff, and even exceed your expectations for how much hard stuff you can do. It also means that you know your limitations. You know when you need to ask for a hug or a little extra help. You know when you need a good cry or a good scream. You know when you need to prioritize moving rock piles over adding to your work pile.
I thought I would offer you this gentle reminder in case you might have temporarily forgotten that, too.
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