Certainly it will cost you time, but often waiting costs us much more than that. To be told that you are courageous means you will have to face something that is scary and uncertain. To be called humble you will have to give up something, such as recognition that was due to you.
You see, it’s not the trouble that causes us to become better people. Participating in life makes trouble inevitable, and not everyone comes out the other side in a better state. We all go down one of three roads when we encounter trouble. Trouble can destroy us. Trouble can leave us unchanged. Or, trouble can help to transform us. It takes conscious work and determination to choose to be transformed in the midst of trouble.
We do not need to seek out suffering so that we can become “more.” I dislike suffering as much as the next person, and I would never have willingly chosen the painful events that have occurred in my life. What I’m saying is that if we’re experiencing trouble and suffering, we have been given an opportunity. What we do with this opportunity is up to us.
To become “more” as a result of the suffering, we have to choose carefully and dig deep to figure out how we should best respond to our situation. We need to look at each sorrow as something we can use to spur regrowth. That’s what Keller means when he says “don’t waste your sorrows.” I wanted my sorrow to end as quickly as possible. I spent a long time thinking that the only way to end my sorrow was for my husband to return and for us to go on with our lives together. If he would just see this as I did, come to his senses, and return home, then this terrible pain would end and I could go back to feeling like a normal human being. I would pray many times a day for this to happen. It never did.
Eventually, I realized that there was no easy way for this pain to be lifted from me, no matter how much I prayed and wept and tried to woo him back. I was going to have to move through this suffering, one moment at a time. Peering at the weeks and months and years that lay ahead of me, none of which included the man I loved, was terrifying. Would this suffering go on forever? I could see no end in sight. I wanted to know the most efficient path through the suffering. If I was going to have to endure this, then I at least wanted to know the shortest, least painful route through. But the more I tried to exert some sort of control over the suffering, the more intense it became.
I knew I had to stop driving looking through the rearview mirror. Keller’s words haunted me. Don’t waste your suffering. I don’t like to waste anything. I have Christmas wrapping paper and ribbons that I have reused for the last fifteen years! I reuse Ziploc bags, water bottles, and tinfoil. I milk that toothpaste tube for every last drop of paste. If I had to work hard to earn the money to buy these things, then I want to get my money’s worth.
Find Your Treasures in the Dark
I had to learn how to apply this same principle of not wasting anything to the situation in my marriage and the suffering I was experiencing. I had not been given a choice about the suffering I was experiencing, but I did have a choice about how I responded to it. In the chapters to come, I will tell you about the steps I took to more positively deal with my pain; how I restored my mental health and positive outlook; and how I used my difficult and sad experience to my benefit, creating an inspiring and meaningful identity and life for myself. I’ll also tell you the blooming stories of some of my psychotherapy clients and Writing for Wellness workshop participants who experienced beauty and transformation as a result of the choices they made in the dark times in their lives. Each of us took deliberate steps, based on the principles I will outline in this book, to find our treasure and experience transformation.
As a result of the steps I took, so much good has happened in me and to me. I became a dancer and an author, two lifelong dreams of mine. I’ve traveled to Mexico, Italy, Cuba, and Israel by myself. I’ve returned to dating and learned a lot about myself and what kind of partner might be an excellent fit for me. I’ve become more flexible, relaxed, and confident. I’ve taken risks and essentially “came out of hiding.” I’ve become a better therapist and friend. I’m more grateful and feel that I love people better, including myself. I’m clearer about my mission in life, and am having a lot more fun as I carry it out. I’d like to offer you the same process and tools I used, as have many of my clients, to help you experience wholeness and restoration, regardless of the type of loss or suffering you may be enduring.
I know you didn’t choose to be in your current state. There is likely nothing fair about it. And, if you’re like most of us, the only way out is through it. While you are in the midst of it, I offer you the hope that there are treasures waiting for you along this dark, painful path. Treasures that will enrich your life and equip you for what is up ahead. Treasures that can only be found in the dark. These treasures require you to embark on an intentional process of changing your thinking and your approach to adversity. Like Keller, I urge you to make a decision not to waste your sorrows or spend endless time looking in the rearview mirror. The choice you have is the same as the flowers each had in the rose garden that night—to open up to life in the dark or to shut your eyes and close yourself off from the pain. My hope is that you choose to bloom in the dark, and that the blooming principles and writing exercises in this book help you navigate your time in the darkness, allowing you to find your treasures and move through suffering into healing and wholeness.
—Michelle Pearce, fellow Night Bloomer
INTRODUCTION
WRITING YOURSELF THROUGH THE DARK AND INTO A NEW PERSPECTIVE
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.
—RICHARD BACH
“Look at it again,” my Psychology 101 professor urged us. I stared hard at the image on the screen, squinted, turned my head from side to side, even closed one eye and then the other, but still all I could see was an ugly, old woman.
“Watch,” he said with a gleam in his eye, as he began to trace the outline of the image. This is a chin, not a nose, this is an ear, not an eye, her necklace, not her mouth. And then I saw her, the beautiful young lady that just a moment ago had been an ugly old woman. The topic of the class was on how our perception determines our reality. In this case, the famous picture on the screen contained two images—called a perceptual illusion—and depending on how you looked at it, the brain would interpret the picture as either an old woman or a young lady.
I was both fascinated and disturbed by how easy it was for me to miss something right before my eyes simply because my brain didn’t know it was there, didn’t know it was an option. I much preferred the image of the young lady, but until my brain had been instructed to see it, my reality was the old woman.
Your Perspective Determines Your Reality
The lesson that perception determines reality is a critical one, particularly for moving effectively through the inevitable pain and suffering in life. The way we look at things matters. It changes not only what we see, but also what we think, how we feel, what options and possibilities are available to us, how we relate to others and to ourselves, and whether we feel hope or despair. As a clinical psychologist, one of the greatest gifts I can give my clients is a change in perspective. Gaining a new perspective changes everything! One of the best compliments I have ever received was from a client at the end of treatment. When we first met, Tom had been bound up in rage, guilt, and despair over a violent hate crime that had been committed against him. He had been beaten by a stranger in broad daylight as he and his partner were walking along the street. He sustained a serious traumatic brain injury that left him deaf in one ear, and he was experiencing severe brain fog, memory and concentration problems, and a deep depression. When he came to see me, he was on medical leave from his job as a surgeon where for years he had provided skilled care for high-risk patients.
