Throughout the entire Becoming Restoried process, Michael has reinforced a belief that hasn’t left me: our purpose is a braid of our pain, passion, and principles. He also says that we tend to teach that which we most need to learn (and give what we most need).
On May 15, 2023, I hosted an event, Lamplight, in honour of my therapist, who died by suicide in 2020. It took me nearly three years to assemble Lamplight from start to finish — not because it required that much work, but because I’ve never been more thoughtful, careful, or intentional about anything in my life (including basketball, but that’s another can of worms). I carved out time to work on Lamplight each day, even though it might be one of the most painful projects I’ve ever completed.
Why?
Because I need that which I give. And my therapist may have needed that which he gave: to be seen and given permission to struggle—especially in the mental health field—with the very thing he’s expected to be knowledgeable about and have expertise in navigating.
Knowledge and stoicism have their worthy time and place. We need people to guide us as Michael does, for example. But expertise doesn’t have perfectly sanded edges—it doesn’t render immunity. The stoicism that exudes what we consider ‘expertise’ is a combination of knowledge and lived experience. And lived experience can be a painful series of stories.
My pain lives in the loss of my therapist, who died in pain while alleviating mine.
My passion lies in connecting people through their lived experiences, via my writing and creativity.
My principles are a breathing awareness that nobody is immune to suicide.
Thus, when these came together to produce Lamplight, I was aligned.
We are most authentic in our work and lives when aligned with the story we tell ourselves about how our pain, passion, and principles are intimately connected. However, this braiding of pain, passion, and principle often feels more like an intersection, where the traffic lights dictate which string of vehicles go, turn, and stop. The traffic lights — to our dismay — are out of our control. Therefore, authenticity also means that we respect our capacity to carry and give at the crossroads of this trio. Sometimes we breach that capacity. And that is human.
My grief quickly became more pronounced before the event. I struggled through my spoken portions, often forgetting words and breaths between sentences. These were words I had written and practiced hundreds of times. I felt disappointment and shame.
Yet, not long after the event ended, I remembered something Michael says during many of our calls, something along the lines of: health is not the absence of distressing thoughts, messages, or resurfacing pain, but our ability to recognize and navigate through it/them. If my purpose is a braid of my pain, passion, and principles, then I must acknowledge the different types of braids that use and favour strands differently (there are actually so many…Viking Waterfall Braid?…epic).
I needed space in the moments after the event, and I created it knowing I didn’t need to harness my body’s response to pain perfectly. Experts still get stung, they just know how to take out the stinger. They also know when they need time to heal and restory their relationship with the tangle of knowledge and lived experience that fuels them. This awareness is what makes Michael and I a few of many reliable reference guides hiking the cliffs and canyons of our stories and lives. It doesn’t make us failed experts. It makes us trustworthy ones.
More to come on this. :)
You can take Becoming Restoried’s What Story Are You Living assessment, or join one of their ongoing free virtual workshops.