Instinct naturally directs us to fight or flight in situations when we don’t always know our next steps. It is sometimes easier to run than fight, especially when you’ve exhausted all your strength and resources. It’s simpler to pack it all up and go back to the familiar and comfortable, when situations stretch us out of the realm of comfort and control. The unknown is a scary place. The grey that shame casts is dark and dreary, looming over us for a time and space that seems infinite. In learning to navigate shame, we identify its causes and have to determine what to do with the “in the meantime” feelings of what shame brings. Would I run? Would I face the shame head on? Would I sit and allow it to wash over me until I was emotionally and mentally ready to move forward? Let’s see. Shall we? 

In my twenties, I was a runner. I would sprint out of situations just as quickly as I entered them because confrontation only ended badly for me. I remember being married and then divorced and what that felt like. I remember being faced with childhood trauma and what my response had always been. Get me out of there immediately or it’s about to be some shit. When I did not remove myself, the shit indeed went down. My thirties saw a softer side of me riddled with toxic perseverance. Only the strong survive. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It’s only a test. You can power through. It’s a great day to build some character. These would be possible taglines for my life in my early to mid thirties if I was an Atlanta housewife. In the last of my thirties, I’ve tried to consider a happy medium between which situations deserve perseverance and effort, versus removing myself from those situations that do not serve me. When dealing with this last situation and navigating shame (see last post) , I came to a crossroad between staying the course and fighting, or getting the fuck outta Dodge. 

I immediately started applying for jobs and reaching out to old contacts because I was unsure of what options for a future I had here in Seattle. I was applying to DC again, and California and Atlanta, trying to find a place where I could get some footing and regain some sense of normalcy as this was all unfolding. I lined up interviews and started outlining plans, which is something I always do because the uncertainty of it all was daunting and not having any control over public reaction and my employer’s opinion of it all was the most terrifying shit I could imagine. I had just moved here a few months ago. The idea of packing it all up and leaving again brought about more and more shame. I was home everyday, alone with my thoughts, already considering that I had lost and failed, so the best thing for me to do was to retreat back to where I came until I felt worthy enough to be seen or could see my value. The plan was in place and I was ready to go. 

Well, you’re not going to believe that, but after not being in church for about 7 years, I found a place to worship here in Seattle and I decided to visit. I’m still skeptical about organized religion in many ways, but I do remember the social aspect of church and how important it was to my upbringing. It was a space of community. The first Sunday I went, the pastor spoke a message about the shifting of our mindsets, which positions us to see things from a perspective we never considered. He invited us to question why we were in this place at this very time. He invited us to think about what purpose lay ahead for us here, even in the midst of uncertainty. I was a little intrigued and a bit shooketh, but I allowed myself to indulge in this invitation when I went home and the messages that were relaying in my mind. The very next day, I opened Facebook to see a post from my twin Johnny, that simply said, “Be still.” I am not a “be still” type. I need to constantly be moving and stimulated, which is a bi-product of the manic side of my Bipolar II diagnosis. When I’m not, I have to find ways to curb the manic energy and quiet the racing. Work usually provides the stimulation that I need to reduce the manic episodes because there is ALWAYS something to do or some fire to put out, but I didn’t have that to lean on. Also, the art of being still is always lost on me because I’m such an adventurer. When the adventure is complete, I seek a new one. That’s what adventurers do. We take what we learn and we seek even more adventure, which is how I ended up in Seattle in the first damn place. The idea of sitting still was extremely uncomfortable. What exactly was I sitting still for? How long would I have to sit still? Would sitting still set me up for ultimate doom? How would sitting still prepare me for the worst case scenario? These questions unlocked my brain and caused me to reflect on every decision I ever made. Had I been still, would I have eliminated some heartache? Was always thinking about the worst case scenario causing me to miss out on the opportunities for growth? 

I decided to give this “be still” thing a try and see what opportunities would come out of me not rushing off into the dark night and finding something else to do completely. For four whole weeks, I sat and waited to see what would happen. There were countless meetings. I canceled interviews and meetings I had set up in an effort to escape and decided to see it through. Eventually, when the investigations ended, my superintendent called to meet with me. It felt very much like the end. I was ready to take whatever severance they would offer and go on about my merry way, because shame often births feelings of defeat. I walked in and the first question he asked me was how I was doing. We chatted and he said the following things that resonated with me so heavily that it makes me a bit emotional today thinking. “I was afraid you would come here and resign today. I want you to know that we want you here. We need you here. So many people want to work with you and we have so much use for you here. I know this hasn’t been easy to deal with, but we need a Marcus Johnson here. We don’t want to do this work without you.”

I had written myself off as a liability and someone who was no longer useful to this profession because of the opinions of a small faction of people. I allowed shame to revert me back to the person who always expects the very worst outcome and moves accordingly to save face. I was ready to loose all of the connections I had created in Seattle and run back to the other side of the country, but instead I decided to be still. I recognized that in all of my adventuring, that sitting still was the one thing I never mastered, but I couldn’t remember any situations where sitting still would’ve been to my advantage. I wouldn’t have learned or grown if I had sit still in some of my past challenges. This was very different. Navigating shame in this way helped me to not only recognize my emotions, but make healthier choices when facing them head on. The power I found in being still came with reassurance, affirmation, and a new outlook on purpose. My body enjoyed the break and daytime naps. I enjoyed cooking a few meals everyday and allowing myself space to work on new projects. My mind enjoyed the quiet and the freedom to explore deeply what racing thoughts were doing to me. In the stillness, I got everything I didn’t know I needed and now I can focus on a path forward and what to do after the storm has passed. We’ll talk about that next time though. 

Like always, we are still healing; still doing the work; still making it happen. All 2022 bitch. Setbacks are possible, but we don’t accept defeat. We do the work. We move forward. We love on us and who loves us. Until next time.