Denial is a dangerous thing.
It enables you to turn a blind eye and makes your brain numb.
There have been countless unknowns that have not been resolved in my life because of COVID (which I'm sure is true for everyone), and instead of facing these problems head-on, my mind let them go. I am not sure why, how, or at what point this denial-like way of thinking began, but my realization about its occurrence felt akin to coming home after an amazing vacation: that moment on the last day of sightseeing when you realize that tomorrow you'll be on the plane ride home where your life, your job, and your normal routine are waiting for you. It totally brought me back down to earth. And then I was ashamed.
I was ashamed because I had been hearing but not listening when my friends and family were telling me about their worries and concerns, which are worries and concerns that I need to be considering as well. I had been nodding my head to what they had been saying, but only partially comprehending the words. It had been something that I was not conscious of, like my mind was trying to protect me from a massive overload of emotion and pain. My re-awareness felt exactly the same way it did when George Floyd was murdered; I feel woke once again, and I need to stay woke.
Staying woke isn't something that just happens without effort. It's a constant decision to pick a side, to make change, to be heard, to not remain silent. Silence, while comfortable and easy, only perpetuates a problem. Staying woke means to engage and be alert to conflict in order to promote change. While extremely important, this is often not without pain. And that pain can be hard to handle. The following quote from Peter Capaldi best summarizes how to cope with pain during difficult times:
"You know what you do with all that pain? Should I tell you where you put it? You hold it tight. till it burns your hand. And you say this, "No one else will ever have to live like this. No one else will ever have to feel like this. Not on my watch.""
I haven't been holding the pain close because I don't want my hand to burn anymore. It feels charred, black and flaking, burnt to a crisp. It's much more of an immediate relief to let that pain go and forget about it. But if I do, I am in danger of being responsible for increasing the pain of others. What consequences will others face if I fail to hold on to the pain and use it as a reminder? If I don't face the unknowns and at least try to solve them, what catastrophes could arise? Not only for me, but for my colleagues? The young people I am responsible for?
I'd rather not find out. Time to reel the pain back in and carry on.
