Accepting Our Unexpected Setbacks: The Reason You Can't Simply Click 'Undo'

I wish you enjoyed a pleasant summer: my experience was different. That day we were supposed to be take a vacation, I was waiting at A&E with my husband, anticipating him to have urgent but routine surgery, which caused our travel plans needed to be cancelled.

From this episode I gained insight significant, all over again, about how challenging it is for me to experience sadness when things take a turn. I’m not talking about major catastrophes, but the more common, quietly devastating disappointments that – unless we can actually acknowledge them – will truly burden us.

When we were supposed to be on holiday but weren't, I kept experiencing a pull towards finding the positive: “I can {book a replacement trip|schedule another vacation|arrange a different getaway”; “At least we have {travel insurance|coverage for trips|protection for journeys”; “This’ll give me {something to write about|material for an article|content for a story”. But I didn't improve, just a bit depressed. And then I would face the reality that this holiday had truly vanished: my husband’s surgery necessitated frequent uncomfortable wound care, and there is a short period for an relaxing trip on the Belgian coast. So, no vacation. Just letdown and irritation, hurt and nurturing.

I know graver situations can happen, it’s only a holiday, an enviable dilemma to have – I know because I used that reasoning too. But what I wanted was to be truthful to myself. In those moments when I was able to cease resisting the disappointment and we discussed it instead, it felt like we were sharing an experience. Instead of feeling depressed and trying to appear happy, I’ve given myself permission all sorts of difficult sentiments, including but not limited to hostility and displeasure and hatred and rage, which at least appeared genuine. At times, it even became possible to value our days at home together.

This reminded me of a hope I sometimes see in my counseling individuals, and that I have also experienced in myself as a patient in psychoanalysis: that therapy could in some way erase our difficult moments, like hitting a reverse switch. But that option only points backwards. Facing the reality that this is unattainable and embracing the grief and rage for things not turning out how we expected, rather than a insincere positive spin, can promote a transformation: from rejection and low mood, to development and opportunity. Over time – and, of course, it requires patience – this can be life-changing.

We consider depression as experiencing negativity – but to my mind it’s a kind of deadening of all emotions, a pressing down of frustration and sorrow and frustration and delight and energy, and all the rest. The substitute for depression is not happiness, but acknowledging every sentiment, a kind of genuine feeling freedom and liberty.

I have frequently found myself trapped in this desire to click “undo”, but my toddler is supporting my evolution. As a first-time mom, I was at times burdened by the astonishing demands of my infant. Not only the nourishing – sometimes for over an hour at a time, and then again under 60 minutes after that – and not only the changing, and then the doing it once more before you’ve even completed the task you were doing. These day-to-day precious tasks among so many others – efficiency blended with affection – are a comfort and a tremendous privilege. Though they’re also, at moments, persistent and tiring. What astounded me the most – aside from the sleep deprivation – were the psychological needs.

I had believed my most primary duty as a mother was to fulfill my infant's requirements. But I soon understood that it was unfeasible to meet all of my baby’s needs at the time she needed it. Her appetite could seem insatiable; my nourishment could not arrive quickly, or it was too abundant. And then we needed to change her – but she despised being changed, and cried as if she were plunging into a gloomy abyss of despair. And while sometimes she seemed comforted by the cuddles we gave her, at other times it felt as if she were lost to us, that no solution we provided could assist.

I soon discovered that my most important job as a mother was first to survive, and then to support her in managing the powerful sentiments caused by the unattainability of my shielding her from all discomfort. As she enhanced her skill to take in and digest milk, she also had to build an ability to process her feelings and her pain when the nourishment was delayed, or when she was hurting, or any other challenging and perplexing experience – and I had to grow through her (and my) frustration, rage, despair, loathing, discontent, need. My job was not to ensure everything was perfect, but to help bring meaning to her sentimental path of things being less than perfect.

This was the difference, for her, between being with someone who was attempting to provide her only good feelings, and instead being supported in building a ability to experience all feelings. It was the difference, for me, between aiming to have excellent about executing ideally as a flawless caregiver, and instead building the ability to tolerate my own shortcomings in order to do a good enough job – and understand my daughter’s letdown and frustration with me. The difference between my attempting to halt her crying, and understanding when she had to sob.

Now that we have developed beyond this together, I feel reduced the desire to hit “undo” and rewrite our story into one where things are ideal. I find faith in my sense of a skill developing within to recognise that this is unattainable, and to realize that, when I’m focused on striving to rearrange a trip, what I truly require is to weep.