This Too Shall Pass

One year ago today, my ex and I sold the house that we jointly owned.  Closing on the house meant so much more than a transaction of property.  We were also closing on the life that we had created together - taking the last legal step to dissolve that which was binding us together.  We sat in the small beige office room awkwardly for two hours.  He was detached and seemingly unemotional, as expected.  The grief I felt was more pervasive than I thought it would be, and at the time, it felt stronger than me.  I spent the rest of the day catatonic on the couch, because even breathing felt too hard - let alone completing the menial tasks of the day.

At the time, this was by far the biggest problem in my life, the worst thing I could imagine.  But now, one year later, it is just a distant memory.  I'm not scarred from it.  I'm not still defeated by it.  I am far from paralyzed.  The was no permanent damage.  I would almost go so far as to say that I'm glad I went through it.

Most problems and struggles, even those that seem enormous while they are happening, are fleeting and impermanent.  Most won't have an impact at all a year later.  This is a reminder I'm hanging on to today, as I now face a completely new and different challenge. Just as that which felt crushing one year ago is now completely a "non-thing", that which feels crushing today will be a "non-thing" in time.  It will work itself out. That is the nature of problems; they don't last forever.

But even when we know intellectually that a problem isn't permanent, it can still feel all-consuming when we are right in the thick of it.  Knowing it isn't forever doesn't change the present situation.  It doesn't lessen the current impact.  It doesn't mean the problem doesn't matter.  It does, however, provide a bit of perspective.  It can help to remember that, based on personal history of other problems that have resolved over time, it is statistically almost certain that "this too shall pass."

I have a pesky tendency to want to control everything in my life, to fix problems immediately, to erase pain, to get rid of whatever forces are contributing to the issue.  But sometimes I need to learn to just ride it out.  Lately I have been trying to live by the mantra of the Serenity Prayer:  "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."  I'm really good - probably a little TOO good - at having the courage to change (or fix, or control) things, but the serenity part and the discernment part could use a little work.  Worrying and attempting to control the uncontrollable is counterproductive, and will just result in frustration and feelings of defeat.

Even the biggest problems in our lives right now probably will no longer be relevant in six weeks, or six months, or a year.  They won't last forever.  Maybe they'll be replaced by different struggles, but then we'll have the benefit of more experience under our belt.

So as I consider my attitude and response to the problem-of-the-moment, which feels all-consuming and impossibly daunting today, I remember how horrible and pervasive my "one year ago" problem felt at the time.  There are parts of my life that I cannot control, and although they are frustrating, they also provide opportunity for learning and growth.  And they are not forever.  This too shall pass.