Rehearsing tragedy

Why we sabotage ourselves when life seems too good to be true

You know what’s a fun game to play when things are going well?
Imagining everything that could go wrong.
You are in a happy relationship? Your partner could get sick and die.
You are building a new house? It could burn down.
You are content with your career? Are you sure? Do you want me to point out all the ways it sucks, how annoying people are, how awful everything is, how nothing is certain in this world and you just never know what evil new guidelines management might release at any moment?

I play this game every time when life is good. It makes me worry when things are going smoothly, suspicious that it’s too good to be true, nervous about when the other shoe is going to drop. It has to drop, doesn’t it? Life isn’t supposed to be this easy, is it?
But why do we believe that?

Brené Brown writes that “joy is the most vulnerable emotion we feel. When we feel joy, it is a place of incredible vulnerability—it’s beauty and fragility and deep gratitude and impermanence all wrapped up in.”

Joy feels like a trick. Everything has a price, what’s the price for life being good? The not-knowing is agonizing. It must be something terrible, and the better things are the worse the consequences must be.
I catch myself holding my breath, waiting, almost feeling relief when something unpleasant happens. Phew, there it is - the struggle, the fight, the depression, the disappointment about other people, the unfairness of life. This is familiar, this is safe, this protects me from disappointment and resentment and the unsettling fear of getting used to it just to have it snatched away again.

Being alive is terrifying. None of us asked to be born, but here we are, and the possibilities of fucking up are endless: we could make terrible decisions, get trapped in a life we hate, be born in the wrong body or wrong country or on the wrong side of the tracks, suffer pain and loss, or the worst one: waste our one and only life by not making the most of it.
And just when you’re resigned to the fact that life is supposed to be a struggle, here comes something that’s even scarier: things going well.

Most of us don’t believe we deserve joy and happiness, because isn’t that the way the world works? Just look at all the suffering and pain, how unhappy everybody is - why should we be any different?

I was raised not to expect too much, to set moderate goals and to be prepared for the worst. Don’t trust anyone, don’t reach too high, be satisfied with less. In that worldview there was a designated place for everyone, and wanting to step out of it into something bigger was akin to blasphemy. Who do you think you are? Do you think you are better than us?

I’ve come to the conclusion that rules are made up and to disregard them if they don’t make any sense, don’t serve me, or are harmful. But striving for (and living) a bigger life challenges long-held beliefs, and I still catch myself falling back into old patterns of believing that a) I don’t deserve it, b) it’s a trap, and c) it won’t last.

Well, the last one is true: it won’t. Nothing does. Everything is always moving, changing, flowing and growing. Life is a neverending ebb and flow, up and down, expanding and shrinking.

Whenever it becomes too overwhelming or scary I remind myself to take a step back, and to imagine myself flying up into the sky, higher and higher, looking down at my tiny form until I’m too far away to see myself, leaving earth behind, floating in the galaxy that’s gazillions of years old, watching our tiny planet disappear and all its worldly problems with it. And I’m reminded of how small and insignificant I am, how short my time in this world is, and I’m calmer.

Tragedy struck before and it will strike again. I know that there are loss and pain in my future, just as there have been loss and pain in my past. It’s part of the deal of hanging out on this planet for a while. But I’ll be damned if I’m not trying my hardest to enjoy the hell out of the times when the sun is shining and the sea is calm.

The next storm will come, but in the meantime? I’m turning my face up towards the sun to feel its comforting warmth instead of scanning the horizon anxiously for oncoming clouds.

I hope you do the same.

❤️ Miriam