One year for our wedding anniversary, my husband and I went to a very lively Cajun restaurant for dinner. Chris had told the waiter it was our anniversary, so for dessert the waiter brought out a chocolate soufflé cake with lit sparkler candles coming out of the top. There must have been four or five, and the waiter yelled all the way to our table: “Here it comes, happy anniversary to the happy couple! Congratulations you two, that’s a long time! Way to go” etc. When he got to our table, he was joined by other servers who sang enthusiastically and wished us very well in the future. After they finished singing, our waiter just stood at our table and let the sparklers keep sparkling. I have no idea why he decided to do this, but it felt to me like a particularly diabolical form of uniquely customized torture, as he stood there for what felt like 20 more minutes—probably actually about 10 more seconds—while I tried to shrink into the floor. Unsuccessfully. This is the part where I tell you I am an introvert. No, really. I am.
My husband (the extravert) loved every second of it. I’m pretty sure at one point he stood up and waved to all the “fans”. While Chris was busy making new friends, and I was desperately striving to become one with my chair, the waiter looked at me and said: “You’re hating this right now, aren’t you?” I cast about for some witty comeback, but all I could manage to croak out was “Um, yep.” He responded: “Just surrender to this moment. There’s nothing you can do right now to stop this from happening. Just lean into this moment. Lean into the moment, and you’ll be fine.” And you know what – I did, and it was. More than fine, in fact. The waiter got a nice tip. And I got a life lesson wrapped in a chocolate soufflé with a sparkler candle.
I know there are days when our lives couldn’t feel more opposite from a celebration. I know that sometimes it can feel like there are many more disappointing, despairing, depressing days than there are sparkler days. And yet we can choose to lean into the discomfort, the awkwardness, the acute sense of being so totally out of our depth that we don’t even know which direction heads towards the surface. We can let ourselves feel what we’re feeling. We can surprise ourselves with how long we can tolerate just sitting (or standing) in it; and how we are changed when we come out the other side. We don’t have to just do something or always give in to the temptation of distracting ourselves with escapist crap like television or Twitter or eating or fantasy football or shopping.
Becoming better at anything is a process, not an event. So trust the process. Trust the unseen formula that is working itself out through you, creating resolution and closure in ways beyond what you think you can do.
This is your life. Lean into it.