Earlier this week I had somewhat of an emotional meltdown. I had become convinced that everything I created or authored sucked.
Wait, let me backup and give a little context. Normally, I consider myself to be a very successful person.
I’ve been sober 23 years, happily married for 21 years, sitting in meditation for 15+ years. I’ve started businesses which were fun, lucrative, and let me to do meaningful work.
I literally have health, wealth, and happiness. So why was my brain trying to convince me that I was a total failure?
My mind, the crazy organ that it is, fed me a narrative about how poorly things were going and I believed every bit of it!
- No one wants to represent your novel
- Your new coaching group isn’t filling up
- You’ve got more clients wrapping up than starting
- Your foot is never going to heal and you’re done running and hiking
- You failed your exams and might as well give up that certification
- You’re lazy and don’t put the effort in to ensure that all these things succeed
When I reached out to my coach and explained how I was feeling based on these thoughts, she was surprised. She couldn’t see how someone with a life as rad as mine could be so hyper-focused on the few things that weren’t going as well as I wanted them to.
Objectively, she could see that my life was totally fine. That the work I do in the world, whether it be writing, coaching, or consulting, was good work and that I had a positive impact on the lives of my clients.
But I couldn’t see it in that moment. I had an astonishing lack of perspective and couldn’t seem to auto correct my emotions.
After texting with my coach for a few minutes, she asked me what data I was looking at that led me to this thesis that nothing I did was worth a damn.
I couldn’t really provide any. My spiraling wasn’t based on observable data, but on feelings that stemmed from one rogue thought.
But in the midst of these dark thoughts, there was the tiniest sliver of light.
I knew I would feel differently the next day and that all I had to do was just sit with this uncomfortable feeling for a few hours and then it would change. Like my thoughts and feelings always do.
It’s funny, the law of impermanence often feels sad and bit depressing. The idea that I’ll be separated from everyone and everything I love creates a sensation of loneliness. But when I think about the impermanence of thoughts and feelings, there is a sense of relief.
“This Too Shall Pass”. I’ve seen this phrase in AA meetings all over the world. Usually in a little frame, hung on the wall, reminding those of us in recovery that “it’s all gonna be ok.”
It has so often brought me comfort during difficult times. When I was facing legal consequences in early sobriety, when I lost my best friend to cancer, when friends relapsed and died, or when I was in the midst of difficult business situations.
“This Too Shall Pass” creates a little oxygen when everything feels smoky and tight — a pause between the doom-scrolling thoughts.
Sometimes my mind just feeds me bullshit — like everything is going up in flames — and without mindfulness, I’ll believe it.
But with even the smallest amount of awareness, I have a chance at remembering that this too shall pass. And if I can do that, then all I need to do is sit and wait and watch.
The feelings and thoughts will ultimately pass and my mind will return to a more accurate perspective.
So if you’re in a moment of self-doubt or spiraling thoughts, pause before you believe the story.
You might just be hearing the mind’s version of clickbait.
Breathe. Wait. Watch.
This too shall pass.