I’ll bet that all of us encountered the fact that life isn’t fair when we were children. And that it was an impossibly hard pill to swallow… that hasn’t gotten any easier over time.
Because it’s true. Life isn’t fair… it seems to relish making that point, over and over. No matter how upset we get about whatever situation is illustrating the point at the moment, our strong emotions can’t change anything about the underlying premise.
For many years, it was conveyed to me that it’s important to accept that life isn’t fair and to get on with it — there’s no use crying over spilled milk, as they say.
And while that sentiment is technically true, tamping down strong, natural emotional responses in order to demonstrate emotional maturity is neither healthy, nor mature.
So when I encounter a “life is not fair” situation (like, say, our old dog dying), my emotional response feels very, very old, as in, I recognize it because I’ve been here before. But really, it’s more like the person experiencing the emotional response is, unlike me, very, very young.
And then my question is, what exactly am I responding to right now? A universally true (no matter how long they live, dogs don’t live long enough), very sad, present situation? Or an unresolved thing (or things) from a long time ago? Or both?
If your inner child needs to hear this today, here it is:
It’s true that life is not fair. It is OK to be upset or frustrated, or sad, or angry about that. Even though your emotional response can’t change this circumstance, it is OK to have those feelings. It’s okay to not know what to do, or how to respond, while having these feelings. They may feel (or remain) unresolved because this situation may not have a resolution other than acceptance.
The older I get, the more I recognize that swallowing feelings doesn’t make them go away — they’ll find a way to make themselves known, sometimes in unrelated, unhealthy ways.
It is possible to hold two, seemingly contradictory, truths at the same time: that this is sad, and unfair, and hard, and that I am filled with gratitude for the life of a sweet, small dog.
Carmen Yount 