Realistic Contentment

Those of us who have spent more than a decade on earth among people are fully aware that life closely resembles a roller coaster: ups and downs, fasts and slows, and a fair share of nauseating turns. That's simply life. The only factor we control is how we respond to these changes.

Frequently, and in response to practically any circumstance that appears even remotely hopeful, my instinctual reaction is happy delusion (dubbed thus only in retrospect, of course). I allow myself to believe that the best really can be true, even if it defies all logic. Obviously, this delusion is accompanied by extreme happiness. Later – moments or months – I realize I had jumped the gun and sacrificed good sense for possible good fortune. The realization is painful, and my emotions do a virtual 180, dropping me into bitter pessimism – my previous lesson has taught me to expect only the worst.

I don't seem to manage a happy medium. Bitter pessimism is not at all realistic. Logic requires that I admit that things won't turn out horribly every time simply because they have in the past. Unfortunately, neither can I prevent myself from diving head-long into delusion when the facts obviously revolt against hope. Realistic contentment evades me.

The most plausible explanation for this is that my emotional framework is defined almost exclusively by my current circumstances. I lack the foresight to prevent delusion and the grace to accept temporary defeat.

One important item to note before too long is that I would consider myself a realist verging on pessimism. That is why I have no qualms calling myself delusional for believing happiness is inevitable. I may not have lived a very long life, but I have seen enough to know that rose-colored glasses don't provide an accurate view of the world. Somehow, however, I still manage to allow myself those strange moments of spontaneous optimism when it appears as if things are going my way. There will be no explaining away that quirk of my personality.

This realism of mine can become very dangerous, especially if I let it control my mood. Whether it's a fizzling friendship, someone I love experiencing irreversible crisis, or unrest in the Middle East, trouble will find its way into my consciousness. Denying that fact is delusional; dwelling on that fact is dangerous.

I have not yet found a way to change my personality. I am a realist – whether by nature or nurture – and no amount of time or therapy will change that. I have a history of letting this trait deter me from contentment, and that cannot continue. Instead, reality needs to become the foundation for this contentment.

The bottom line here is this: if I were truly aware of my reality, bitter pessimism would never find a foothold. Likewise, if I dig beyond the surface of my circumstances, my happiness would be based on fact, not illogical delusions.

My reality does not consist merely of friendships or life events. A day is not comprised only of success at work and adequate caffeination. My reality is founded on the sacrifice of Jesus. I am a sinner. I deserve to die. And yet I am allowed to live – and not a bland, pointless life, but a life full of fellowship with my Creator and Redeemer. God, who created everything that determines my reality, loves me deeply. That is my reality.

Based on these facts, this realist can in fact experience joy in life's frequent disappointments. I don't have to let reality get me down. The true Foundation of my joy is unshakable. While I can't claim to be able to prevent either the happy delusion or the rapid transformation into bitter pessimism, I know I don't have to choose between them. There is a third choice for me: realistic contentment.

The world is heavy, and my shoulders are frail, but despite it all I am content.  

Controlling the Control Freak

I'm a fixer – a control freak. If I see a problem, my mind automatically initiates strategic planning sessions, and all power is channeled into eliminating the problem. Sometimes a solution presents itself immediately, and normal function resumes. Other times, weeks go by before an exhausted problem acquires a solution. On rare occasions, the encountered problem has no solution. This causes me extreme anxiety: so much, in fact, that I had serious trouble forcing myself to write the previous sentence. I toyed with writing, “The problem has no visible solution,” or “The solution remains hidden,” or “I remain somehow blind to the solution.” The source of this internal struggle is this: something at the very core of my being refuses to admit that there's a problem that cannot be fixed. The issue is not personal pride (at least not entirely). I am willing to admit that there are problems I cannot fix. In fact, my problem-solving process involves consulting friends whose opinions I highly value. On these rare and troubling occasions, they tell me there is no solution. Each of these un-solvable problems takes up permanent residence on my shoulders.

On top of my own quandaries I place the ridiculous amount of pain and suffering I see all around me. I am naturally empathetic – to a fault. (Confession: this is why I do not regularly watch the news. Like many of you, I apprise myself of major events via social media.) If I hear that someone I know is experiencing hardship, my heart constricts and my stomach somersaults. When a dear friend's life is filled with pain, betrayal, or disaster, I carry their burden as if it were my own. The unfortunate reality of this life is that this habit of mine acquires quite the load for me to carry.

All of these strange personal quirks mean that at every moment I am carrying far heavier burdens than my frail human shoulders can handle. Until recently, I thought this was a normal part of life, and that the anxiety, exhaustion, stress, and worry were all entirely acceptable. Then one day, a good friend pointed out to me that worry is a sin. Since then I have waged continual war with my inner control freak. I don't anticipate ever having complete control over these impulses; however, I have discovered some useful battle tactics.

Through this blog, I will share my struggle to accept that I cannot fix everything and that I do not, in fact, need to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I will close with one item of the highest importance: my method hinges on the life, death, and resurrection of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It is through His love for me that I am able to surrender daily those burdens that threaten to crush my soul.