I couldn't have been more than 7 years old and there I was freezing my ass off with that ice cold water being sprayed all over my skinny little body while I did nothing but bravely endure. My pride and determination were my only protectors, the source of which only grew with every passing moment of continued shivering and irrational thoughts of hypothermia eventually overtaking me. It was an early spring day in Colorado where the chill of the harsh winter past still hung in the air as it fiercely competed with the sun's brilliant rays for attention. My teen aged older brother stood gleefully in front of the four of us children: me, my younger brother, and our two best friends, Joyce and Laly. Who knows how or why he thought of this "game." but he knew that with us, he'd have some willing participants.
And so it began..
Joyce was to my right, Laly to my left, and my younger brother Mike was at the end. We each dutifully took our spots. With our hearts racing, we each sat cross-legged down on the hard, stiff ground, wondering what the heck we were getting ourselves into. We learned that the rules were really quite simple- all we had to do was sit there while he sprayed us with the hose. The winner would be the person last sitting. Knowing that we were already quite cold just being there in the brisk air, our fears started to take hold. But before we could pay attention to those fears, we were already being subjected to the onslaught of the frigid and unrelenting hosing.
It didn't take long for me to rejoice internally upon the sight of Mike and Laly's nearly immediate and quite predictable flee to the sweet safety awaiting them at the other end of our backyard, where the sun was shining unencumbered. My judgement, no doubt, certainly followed them in their tracks, "Man, look at those weak ones- I can't believe they are actually running away!" I knew Joyce would put up a bigger fight though. Both of us always enjoyed jockeying for that coveted boss position of our special childhood clan. Today was going to be my day, I promised myself. No matter what, I committed that I was going to last longer than Joyce.
This was serious business, no doubt.
To make a long and dramatic story short, Joyce eventually stood up and bolted to join Laly and Mike who were already busy at play on the swingset, the memory of the ridiculous game dissolving away with every pedal of their legs as they swung high up in the sky bolstered by the freedom their wise surrendering afforded them. Joy unfolded before them as a result of their decisions to pay attention to their bodies and pain rather than to ignore it all like I had.
With my frozen limbs and stubborn will, however, I stood up to my tall brother, eager to learn what my "prize" would be for my courageous act of sustained suffering. With an annoying air of nonchalance, my brother picked up his muddy foot which was now adorned with sticks and grass and a few old tattered leaves that somehow withstood the horrors of winter. He sighed, looked around, and casually took hold of a small single petrified leaf. With a brotherly dose of humor, he then licked it as if it were a stamp and adhered it squarely onto my awaiting forehead. "There you go, Lynn. Congrats!" And sadly, I couldn't have been happier. It was as if I had just won an Olympic medal. No, even more so, that leaf was an actual badge of honor to my budding sense of self. I declared myself officially STRONG. Never mind my chilled bones, purple extremities, and the intense stinging sensation of my skin starting to warm up. Never mind that instead of standing there thawing off alone holding on to my hollow "victory" and twisted pride, I could have been laughing instead with the crew on the swingset tangled up in the fun that naturally arose in the aftermath of their courageous acts of surrender. In the end, if ignoring my pain meant that I would be strong, then GAME ON! I was ready to play.
And so it continued...
My stubbornness thrived in this environment of shutting out emotions and pain and it kept me doggedly driven. I didn't have time to be distracted by feelings and so I focused on all things achievement. Why feel when I can do? Again, I had bought into the myth that being strong meant soldiering on at all costs. And so I did. And when I continued to ignore the pain I felt in my foot and in my knee in college, I deluded myself into thinking that I was a true athlete- nothing was going to stop me. I could play through anything. And what good did that do for me in the end? Well, let's just say that I now have 3 active boys and I can no longer run. Not even a mile. By refusing to surrender and take care of myself (which would have been the wise and vulnerable choice to make) my pain eventually won out and destroyed my knee. Again, stupidity, not strength. Real strength is knowing when to fight and endure and when to surrender and relent. When we forsake the power of feeling our feelings, we stay armored up as we run from ourselves. And this is how pain turns into suffering unnecessarily.
Yet our challenges in life offer us an out - if we bravely choose to surrender into our struggles instead of ignoring them, they can grow us and evolve us into stronger and more connected versions of ourselves. We expand within our humanity, which allows us to show up to others in more whole and empathic ways. We learn how to feel ourselves so that we can feel others. That is real strength, and yes, that requires getting soft in our lives. Don't confuse strength for stupidity. It's time to break free from the myths that bind us to our armor. Getting soft is a great place to start.
I am curious, where in your life might you be confusing strength for stupidity?
Please share your story in the comments section below the video.
Have a listen to Steven Hayes's powerful TED talk on how surrendering into and going through our feelings is one of the bravest and most effective choices we can make towards living a purposeful and connected life.