Crisis: The Teller of Truths
Why is it that we often return to our deepest truths in a moment of crisis?
Taking inspiration from my last post, I’m going to format this piece of writing the same way. I believe that the format of telling a personal story whilst sharing the accompanying lesson at the same time, is an effective and captivating approach to teaching. As such, I’ll use this format again today, and potentially into the future too.
We’re going to talk about a recurring theme of mine. It’s my belief that everyone has these recurring themes in their life too. We all know what it feels like to have the same situations come back, again and again (be it for the best, or the worst). I suppose it depends how you look at it, but one might consider these repeat experiences a sign.
The repeat experience of mine that is relevant to today’s conversation is that of loneliness, or to take it a step further, we might say a lack of support. I can’t clearly define what I mean by “support” without telling you the story first, so hold on a minute and we’ll come back to this.
The inclusion of the word “crisis” in the title was no mistake. Because the idea of a crisis being a point of personal discovery, and potentially even a space for the rearrangement of values, is the theme for this writing. What I’ll be sharing today comes in the form of a personal crisis of mine: a period of sickness. And while it wasn’t the most dangerous or noteworthy crisis that I’ve experienced, it doesn’t have to be; because in my life, it has established itself as an example of how a crisis can facilitate the rearrangement of personal values, or even stimulate the discovery of new ones.
Referring back to where I mentioned repeat experiences, I must add that although I refer (and will continue to refer) to my personal crisis as a singular event, many similar experiences have occurred as such I’ll be condensing them down to one experience when talking about them for simplicity's sake. The coming story has occurred a few times, obviously differing in detail each time, but all with the same message. In trying to share my message, it would only complicate things to separate them.
My personal crisis was sickness, my reoccurring experience throughout these periods of sickness was a desire for someone to care for me, and the lesson I learnt was that we often discover new things about ourselves in times of crisis.
My Crisis
My crisis wasn’t really a big one, everyone gets sick from time to time. Despite my continuous effort to stay healthy, sickness of some form is an inevitability in the world we live in. I’m young, eat well, exercise, get plenty of sun, spend time with friends and live a relatively stress-free lifestyle; all important factors in the journey of staying healthy, amongst other things. But despite this, I do find myself in the occasional situation of being bedridden, a place I really don’t like to be. My room feels like a prison in these moments; however, it’s not really a choice when it happens.
It’s these extended stays in my bed that are the points of crisis for this story. Because, and I assume most of you would understand this, life doesn’t happen entirely in one bedroom. But when sickness comes knocking, and you find yourself stuck laying down for days, usually quite uncomfortably I might add, it changes your understanding of what life is. Life goes from a rich and interesting adventure, to a bleak and soulless passing of time. And it’s in this place of despair, devoid of the flavour of life, that you’re left alone with yourself in the absence of the distractions that life has to offer.
If you’re someone who likes to meditate, you might see this experience as a moment of stillness, which in truth it is; however, I prefer to describe it as a moment of returning to one’s self. Because truthfully, you can never leave yourself, you can only distract yourself, from yourself. Stillness is the tool that makes space for you to listen to what you truly want in the absence of life’s distractions. Being sick is an unintentionally good way of doing this.
So what has this “return to self” taught me? Well, interestingly enough, when I find myself sick laying in bed alone, I feel a genuine desire for intimacy (and I don’t mean that in a sexual way). I would imagine that this isn’t the greatest surprise for many of you, but as someone who is mostly removed from the romantic world, it’s an uncommon feeling for me. I can imagine that it’s only natural that in our times of weakness we wish for someone to be there for us, that sounds healthy to me.
Yet, what makes this revelation of a feeling so interesting to me, is the genuinity with which it is expressed. Like everyone else, I do wish for company in life; however, the feeling is often found at a surface level, rarely does it come from a place of such genuine desire. It’s my assumption that when I’m at my weakest, all that I’m left with is what is at the core. In the absence of life’s distractions, all that you have left is yourself and how you feel about the world. This is what makes something like a sickness such an unfortunately powerful tool.
So while I’m laying there sick, and unable to do much more than wonder around the vast landscape that is my phone. I find myself craving connection. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, I’m stuck in my bed too unwell to do anything but just feel my feelings. I’ll fulfill my needs another day I guess.
Despite my feelings, when the day comes that I’m feeling my best again, and the void that is my bed slowly fades out of my experience, the distractions of life flood back in, and my genuine desire for connection fades away. All that I’m left with is the memory of how I felt, and a small but growing hole that has been cracking in the shell surrounding my emotion, one which allows me to peek in every so often as a reminder of how I feel deep inside.
What’s most surprising about this experience to me, is not that it happened, but that it happens every time. Like a clock that rings at every next hour, always patiently waiting for its moment to shine, hitting its mark every time without fail. Each sickness different from the last, but united by this one experience.
What Can You Learn From This?
Well, truthfully, my romantic life doesn’t have a lot to do with you. That part is irrelevant apart from the fact that I needed an example to explain this lesson, so don’t focus on that too much.
What’s more important is the broader lesson at play here: a crisis is often a tool for change and personal discovery. Maybe not a tool that you would intentionally call upon yourself, but one that just happens.
We’re creatures of comfort. Regardless of whether you like to consider yourself as someone who embraces discomfort or not, I can assure you that almost everyone spends much more time trying to make themselves comfortable, than uncomfortable. Everyone uses tools to familiarise themselves with the world, things such as routines or plans. Crisis is the antithesis of routine and structure. A crisis is here to breakdown the systems you have built for yourself and bring you back to your instincts.
Because when a crisis hits, you can’t rely on the comforts you’ve built for yourself; you have to dig deep, and act from the core; this is where you get exposed for who you really are. You might say that a crisis is a return to the self.
In these moments, the distractions of life fade away and you’re left with only yourself and your situation. This is why I consider a crisis to be “the teller of truths,” as it was the case in my situation. I was put in a very specific position that caused me to feel something that is realistically always with me, but doesn’t come to the forefront so often as it’s not usually made space for in my everyday life. But when a crisis occurred, and my everyday life was stripped away from me, there suddenly became room for the part of myself that didn’t always get accounted for.
And that’s basically the message that I’m bringing to you. Your everyday life doesn’t always make room for you to fully express yourself, certain things are hidden away on purpose, or even just unintentionally long forgotten, and it can often require a crisis to strip away the distractions and bring you back to your centre. To remind you of what is still important when the comforts of everyday life are taken from you.
I guess what I’m offering is a perspective shift, because while in the moment a crisis is usually a moment of difficulty in one’s life, it’s also an opportunity to tap back into what’s important to you. Because you can’t hide from yourself in a crisis, your instincts kick in and you fight from what’s true within you. So while you’re probably busy dealing with your next crisis when it happens, just remember at some point to revisit your experience and get in touch with what you can learn from it, what you can learn about yourself.
See, in my situation, my sickness put me in a position that’s more vulnerable than what I’m familiar with. Usually I consider myself to be quite independent, it’s something I pride myself on as I’ve always had an independent streak. Something that is both in my nature since birth, but also something that has been strengthened by my life experiences. My default is to take on any challenge alone, asking for help only once I prove to be incapable of completing the task at hand; this is a fantastic quality in some ways, but also a real hinderance in many others.
By being sick, I was robbed of my ability to help myself; I became more dependant than usual. And it’s in this state of dependance that I felt the need for support, something that would be more or less absent in my normal state of independence.
Do you now see how a crisis can teach you about yourself?
It’s my default, you might say my comfort zone, to be independent. My crisis was a state of dependance. I was forced to relinquish control over my own needs and accept that, in that moment, having personal support from another would be a desirable thing. Something that I obviously know intellectually, but don’t so often feel.
A crisis is a crisis because it breaks down your way of life. It cracks the shell of your preferred way of living and in doing so exposes what’s at the core of you. Because beneath the life you are currently choosing, there is a more authentic version of yourself. Each crisis gives you a chance to see beyond the wall that is your current life and into an alternative reality, one that exists beyond your chosen way of living. And it’s in these experiences that you get a chance to see the alternative versions of yourself, because there are always some, many of which are better versions of you, patiently waiting for you to adopt them as the new you.
I’ll finish with a reminder. Next time you’re faced with a crisis, ask yourself, maybe after the crisis if necessary, but preferably during it, what is this experience teaching me about myself? Because a personal crisis is inherently uncomfortable but that’s the point, it’s this discomfort that shows you a version of yourself that you might not intentionally chose to see; when the crisis comes, you don’t get that luxury.
Embrace a personal crisis not for the horrors that it brings, but for the growth that it represents. Because it’s this growth that can stop the crises in the first place, for if you’re living to your greatest potential, what’s a little crisis to get in your way?
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