This blog is about coping with uncertainty. Recently, someone asked, “How do you do it? You’re so good at facing the unknown.” And I laughed because I don’t feel good at it. I much prefer to hold the steering wheel and the GPS. But I am getting better at handling uncertainty. Here’s how:

#1. I get angry. When I stare into the dark of what may happen with this surgery or what may happen to my children in the future, it’s so overwhelming that I lash out at the person standing closest to me. I slam doors. I yell at those who leave towels on the floor and I argue with Kurt over who broke the lawn mower. I pack a bag to run away from home, because no one is being attentive enough to my needs. I get all the way to the car, with the key in the ignition, before realizing, “Oh, wait. I’ve done this before. When I am in fear of the boogeyman, death, or uncertainty, I look for the nearest exit out of my pain.” Now I know that I have to get mad because that emotion is more available to me than sadness. And I need to feel to process.

When I am getting angry over the littlest thing, it means I am processing uncertainty. In fact it means I am making great progress. As Francis Weller says, “No one wants to hang out in pain. But it is inevitable. So how do we use it as material?”

#2 I make something. When I am creative, I can’t be worried. There’s brain science to back me up on this. “Crafting is a natural antidepressant. It regulates big emotions and elicits flow.” All I know is that when I draw or paint or build something, fear fades. Curiosity takes over. Creative thoughts replace anxious ones. What do I want to make? How big? What materials? This time, I drew a giant bird’s nest on a piece of white cloth; the start of a painting for the front wall of the house. This is not art with a capital A. This is copying an illustration I found online. Then it’s scribbles and sketches, Tempera paint and utility brushes. Why? I wanted to make something that said, “Spring is here! Rebirth and recovery happens.” Then my five year old neighbor asked, “Will baby birds come out of the eggs?” So, early one morning, I painted cracks in the eggs. And in a week, who knows, maybe a few bright beaks will appear.

#3 I seek to serve. It’s tough to look outside of ourselves when we are in the middle of a pity party, but I swear it’s the doorway to freedom. Instead of focusing on what is being taken away from me, I focus on what I can give. I give thanks for irises and peonies, for rhubarb and morels, for parents in good health. I give my neighbor a ride to yoga, my friend a vase of lilacs, my dog an unleashed run. I give money to the organizations who are positive forces for change. I write down three specific moments that I am grateful for each night. I seek to serve. This season, the way I am serving is self-serving. Since everyone deserves the tools to write a great college essay, I’m finally creating an affordable video course for all. Stay tuned!

#4 I surround myself in Nature. I drop everything and follow a river upstream or lie down under the stars. I feel a part of something larger, a community of beauty and abundance, and it makes me feel larger, too. When I feel the immensity of the planet, I feel that we are capable of immense things. It reminds me that all this beauty happens without me doing a thing. Maybe the universe is benign. Maybe all will be well. I don’t have to force positivity, and be convinced that everything will definitely work out perfectly. I only have to believe that it is possible for all to be well.

There’s a #5, too…about surrender and trust…but that’s for another blog. 😉

So. When I don’t know what is going to happen and I feel out of control, I get angry, I make something, I seek to serve, and I surround myself in Nature. In that order. It’s not pretty. There’s a lot of resistance. But the only way out is through. It’s not about being bad or good at facing uncertainty, it’s about knowing what works for you to get through, rather than exit, the pain. Remember that together, we can get through anything.

Love,

Susie