on expansion

I've written a few drafts between my last post and now that I've left unpublished. Typically, writing is the best way for me to titrate the incessant tidal waves of thoughts into a semi-coherent string of paragraphs, decreasing the magnitude of those waves. However, I've allowed a combination of some deeper experiences and subsequent shifts, along with the ever-present self-criticism that I have nothing important to say, to keep me silent.

Perhaps I needed the break to live sufficient life worth processing in this forum. I've read enough to know that writers cannot write well about that which they haven't lived. Yes, I'm speaking about non-fiction writers.

Maybe today's words are about perfectionism. I was in a session with a client this week, and this topic came up during our time together. Let me attempt to describe this adaptive mechanism as I understand it.

Perfectionism seems to develop when young humans either want to maximize positive or minimize negative consequences, so we decipher where the threshold lies. Meeting and exceeding that threshold or bar becomes our measure of success, which we measure in terms of happiness. Over time, we move this threshold or bar as we understand the world in greater complexity and continue to maximize happiness and minimize discomfort. At some point, we arrive at a standard that keeps us safe from discomfort and removes us from opportunities for happiness, which our internal well-being matrix deems too risky or uncertain.

In this case, I deny myself the joy I derive from expressing my inner world through writing. Of course, my writing does not generate any income, so it's easy to rationalize that I should spend my limited time on activities more directly related to funding my continued survival and happiness. Three cheers for late-stage capitalism!

That was sarcasm.

Our brains are wondrous organs capable of rationalizing any shred of truth—or pretty much any thought—into a full-fledged stance and, eventually, worldview that feels convincing. I want to take this moment to appreciate the tremendous creativity and conviction our brains can generate to keep us alive and generally happy enough. However, we know this creativity isn't always or even often terribly productive in the long term.

That's the problem with any adaptive or coping mechanism—they're terrific for keeping us going in the moment, but they come with a cost. Extrapolate that cost over several years or decades, and I think you see how terrible a toll this can take on us. Some situations necessitate coping, but lives are best lived; we're all born to thrive, beloved.

I've been working with a mentor and coach—he wears a few hats at this point—and one of the greatest challenges he has offered me is to examine the places and spaces where I'm just coping. To cope, we must contract. Adapting requires us to make ourselves small for the sake of resilience. Thriving, really living life, requires us to venture the risk of expansiveness. Expansion is a risk.

Expansiveness is not quite the mortal risk that our brains would have us believe. No, you're not likely to expire when you risk being vulnerable with that human in that relationship, for instance. However, we risk rejection by putting ourselves out there to be accepted, heard, and seen for who we are.

Let's also make sure that we aren't defining expansiveness too narrowly, as sometimes expansion can look like discerning not to be vulnerable in certain relationships and situations, recognizing that we can show up in our fullness without needing to provide the umpteenth opportunity for rejection so that we can remind ourselves of that fullness. Expansiveness is not foolishness, friend. Expansive humans trust their intuition to guide them deftly through situations.

Expansiveness doesn't preclude us from conflict. In some ways, expansion may seem to invite conflict as we grow too large to fit into specific spaces—grief is a vital part of the process, I'm sorry to say. Expansion is more a repeated cracking open than gently inflating a balloon.

The process involves us, at times, putting down and, at others, smashing the myriad masks that have helped keep us safe until now. Each mask deserves its own appreciation and grieving process. It's the least we can do for these precious masks we created with such attention and care that have done so much for us.

I like to use the imagery of hermit crabs, and they seem helpful enough here. As we grow, we must vacate the old shell that has been home to us and find a bigger one in which we fit more comfortably. A fun fact that most people do not know about these mystical creatures is that they bedazzle each shell. Similarly, when we break into greater degrees of freedom and liberation, we will decorate ourselves in different ways with an evolving personality, interests, relationships, and increasing radiance. Yes, I understand the analogy breaks down a little here, and some of you will take issue with the idea of decorating ourselves with relationships, but please understand that I believe relationships are more than narcissistic adornment.

So, beloved, where are you coping today? Where in your life do you feel you remain small after all these years? What feels tight and constricted in your body, and what might that part of you be trying to communicate? Are you willing to risk change? Are you willing to trade in a bit of safety for the possibility and promise of expansiveness? We all wish you would. Every one of us needs You.