In (Begrudging) Praise of Radical Acceptance
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If everything is important, then nothing is important.
There is so much I could say about the last year after such a long absence but where to even start? I’m sure I could talk in a million different directions, but does it even matter? But between sharing all of it, or none of it, I went with none of it. Well, maybe not none. But definitely not all.
Suffice to say that after a very hard year on all fronts, I simply came to a place - quite begrudgingly - of radical acceptance of things that just were going to be what they were. Things that no amount of prayer, hoping, or effort were going to change. Radical acceptance, however, should not be confused with happiness. Far from it. In fact, the only way I was able to choke down acceptance was by also choosing equally radical - militantly harsh - honesty with myself and God about how I felt.
And here’s the militantly brutal truth…
No, I am not happy. And I question whether I will ever experience joy again in a way that is meaningful to me. (Please don’t feel sorry for me. And please don’t try to “correct” or enlighten me about what true joy is or isn’t or how I’m/anyone is supposed to experience it. I know what I’m saying and why I’m saying it.) But not feeling happy is not the same thing as being not being at peace and enjoying sanity.
I’ve learned that it is possible for opposing feelings to occupy the same space in tension with one another. Two things can be true at once. I am learning to experience sanity and gratitude without the need to feel happy. So often we try to conflate them all or we think that gratitude must automatically include feelings of happiness otherwise it’s not real. I reject that.
So with zero shame I say, no, I’m not a happy camper. I still feel like a cosmic whipping post most days. I still haven’t found meaningful, consistent work, which accounts for about 98% of my existential and faith crisis, and determines much of my day-to-day life. But I am quite thankful for lots of small but meaningful providences and wins along the way.
Such as…
I am thankful for the sanity that radical acceptance brings. I am thankful for a comfy bed in a safe and cozy place. I am thankful for lower sugar Gatorade. I am thankful that I discovered the power of chelating shampoos. I’m thankful I’m finally growing out my hair the way I’ve always wanted to. I’m thankful that the cats that live downstairs finally let me look at them, and even pet them. I’m thankful that I’m working towards my real estate license. I will be forever thankful that I completed my bachelor’s degree. I’m thankful that I’ve found a small measure of predictability in my day-to-day life. I’m thankful for good people who genuinely believe in me, often times more than I believe in myself. I’m thankful that I’m learning to take life one day, or even one hour, at a time without reading too much into anything anymore, and expecting zero.
Sanity. I’ll take it.
As for the future, I’ve stopped trying to play whack a mole with it. I’ve learned that sometimes saying “I don’t know” to most faith and existential questions, and being ok with it, is the healthiest thing we can do. These days, I’m less interested in five-year plans and more interested in faithfully stewarding the next hour in front of me. The future, good or bad, will happen with or without my permission. Because of that, I’ve learned to hold all things - especially the good ones - very, very lightly.
Radical acceptance, however, should not be confused with complacency. Far from it. I’ve set some very hard personal boundaries. And I absolutely still have dreams and aspirations. But I’m simply approaching things… diffrently, I guess would be the word, vague and broad as it may sound. Again: simply holding things lightly, and taking things as they come.
For now, I hope to spend more time here. I find so much comfort, agency, belonging, and wholeness in this space. It’s one of the only ways I feel truly myself - the self that I miss so much - and at home these days. There will be no grand announcements. No dramatic reinventions. Just the quiet work of building a life one day, one hour at a time.
For now, that feels like enough.
