Walking Through Uncertainty
Why looking outward, instead of inward, might just save us during these anxious times, and the two daily prayers carrying me forward
“I am learning to walk through the uncertainty. To find beauty in the unknowable.” - me, Love You Hard
My favorite part of each day is waking up my daughter for school. Each morning I find Rosie on top of the covers, curled up like a snail, her long feet poking out from the blanket she prefers to her comforter. Each morning, she asks me to pick out her clothes, then wrinkles her nose at my choices, a clear indicator we’re headed right back to leggings, a t-shirt (like Rory Gilmore, she alternates between Yale and Harvard gear), and a pair of crocs, just like the day before.
Yesterday, I climbed into her loft bed, and before her eyes were even fully open, able to take in the contours of stress and exhaustion that have marked my face for the past two months, she whispered to me, “Mom. Don’t do anything today but read and write.”
Though I haven’t uttered it aloud, perhaps she’s noticed I’ve been depriving myself of these two beloved gifts over the last several weeks. Perhaps Rosie, at 8, knows a whole lot more about self-care than I do these days.
When I asked how she comes by this waterfall of wisdom she seems to naturally possess, she replied, “I get it from you. But you’ve stopped listening to yourself.”
Wow. Record screech. Cue silence.
Without doubt, this is a difficult season of life. Like others, I’ve been in the Bad Place since about January 20th, unable to shake off the bombardment of daily miseries that are echoing across the world, especially in Washington, D.C., where our community has been hit hard.
As a trauma survivor, my amygdala’s default setting is doomsday survival, and it’s no exaggeration that recent days have felt like an assault on the soul. Batten down the hatches. Keep your family safe. My brain is all too familiar with this playbook. Even remote danger activates this response.
To say I’ve been “on edge” is a radical understatement. I’ve been two heart palpitations away from a total breakdown, and not particularly proud of how I’m managing life at the moment. I’ve been preoccupied, constantly playing out worst-case scenarios in my imagination, and living nearly entirely in my head.
So, it was a bit of a jolt to hear my daughter instruct me to listen to myself when, for weeks, I’ve been the last person who should be offering advice! Still, her words reminded me of something I wrote many years ago in Love You Hard about finding beauty on the path of uncertainty. That Abby was living through a moment nearly as uncertain as the present but with consequences limited to my small world. I was 34 years old, raising two small children and navigating a marriage that had been entirely rewritten by brain injury. I didn’t know (and still don’t) how my husband’s disability would impact us in the long term, how I’d manage if faced with early dementia or single parenting, or any of the unknowns that haunted me. I only knew my task at the moment, which was to keep marching forward, to keep living - despite the uncertainty.
The present moment is different in myriad ways, and the stakes for all people, especially the most vulnerable among us, have never been higher. But it was a chapter of life that taught me much about uncertainty, beginning with the fact that it’s a constant feature of life. Even on the days we humans feel capable of engineering our lives to a T, uncertainty lurks in the background, threatening to undermine or even destabilize the vision we’re working toward.
Accepting the existence of uncertainty is humbling. I say this as someone who plans for life, someone who is often convinced of my God-like puppeteer qualities - my ability to jam square pegs into round holes and fix, fix, fix. The notion that I cannot fully engineer the future, that a good deal of life is luck, faith, and happy surprises, is a hard pill to swallow because it suggests that my mind might be better spent doing or even resting instead of planning.
On a broader level, it is an essential reminder of something researchers have been spouting for years: that we’re more likely to find happiness by shifting the focus outward to others, rather than ruminating within.
Why? Because thinking about others gets us moving. It energizes us, keeps us busy, and staves off tormenting patterns of anxiety. And the best part of all? It’s value-added to someone else.
So many of the conversations I’ve had with neighbors and community members recently have concluded with this directive: Let’s remember to take good care of each other.
It’s a simple order with big significance. Whether we’re helping an elderly neighbor who’s been knocked over while walking their dog (this happened yesterday) or checking in with our postal service delivery person to ask, “How are you really doing?” it’s the small and simple acts of outward care that will imbue us with purpose and sustain our communities in the days and months ahead.
I needed this reminder like I needed an ice bath for my brain this week. And I’m writing it here for you because I, too, need to revisit it daily. My prayers are two-fold these days: Let me have faith. And let me be of service.
If those words resonate with you, I invite you to get busy in bringing them to life. Donating money to our favorite causes may not be an option, but small acts of kindness are almost always free and deeply rewarding.
And if you missed my interview with Simone Gordon, the Black Fairy Godmother, last month, please go back and read about the important work she is doing to serve her community of struggling mothers. Getting involved with her organization is as simple as amplifying her social media posts or signing up to volunteer (and any donation, big or small, goes directly to moms in need).
I’m sorry I haven’t been here as consistently as I promised in the last month. I’m finding my way out of myself and back to others, and I’m holding us all with compassion and grace as we figure out how to do life right now.
If nothing else, let’s take good care of each other in the days ahead. Let’s aim to find some beauty in the unknowable.
Delightful Things to Feed Your Soul
(Because it’s good to remember what brings us pleasure.)
Reading is hard at the moment (my attention is nearly non-existent), but this book was exactly what I needed to reignite my passion. Funny, real, quippy, and oh-so-smart, The Wedding People was a rare combination of all the factors I need to sink happily into literary bliss.
White Lotus Season 3: a wild, often provocative ride, and the tension between the three middle-aged friends is just so, so layered and juicy
The sound of the national anthem, every day at 8AM, performed by the good, young souls down at the Marine Barracks in D.C.
Dogs
Watching squirrels race up and down the black walnut tree outside my window
Dreams about summer
Cherry Blossoms (minus the traffic)
Re-runs of Fixer Upper on Max
Brunch/lunch/dinner dates with friends
Paint-by-number
Being a mom
Out of the mouths of babe. Kids are so perceptive- especially girls. I think they read us so fully and notice the things we think are successfully hidden away. I, too, have been struggling with our world and my worries run deep and I have struggled with how to deal with my current state of mind. We are all living in ambiguous loss- it’s all around us and my inclination is to bury it but I know from experience that doesn’t help anyone; it comes out eventually. Like you, I’m trying to be a better person, help others and notice the good humanity around me. We need to band together and help one another.
So lovely. We show up, do the next right thing, and trust the process. And some days, the next right thing is to take your wise daughter's advice! I love your two prayers. Here are the four questions I'm journaling every day (came from Father Rohr's new book, The Tears of Things, and the podcast discussion:) Where am I angry? Where am I sad? Where do I see Love? How can I BE Love? It is helping me actually FEEL the feelings, but not stop at anger, fear, and sadness.