It wasn’t your fault, but that doesn’t mean you’re helpless.
This was a perfect storm. There’s so much discontent and dissatisfaction in the world today. From my perspective, a deep sense of hopelessness pervades Gen Z, who’ve been bombarded with messages of how older generations have greedily ravaged the planet. Combine this with the high pressure to “succeed” in a world where that success–as defined–not only seems inaccessible but is also considered shameful, what’s a compassionate, sensitive Gen Z meant to do when pondering the future in this divisive, unforgiving world?
We’ve shrunk the range of normal so that nearly everyone in the developed world is diagnosable, requiring “treatment” to be able to function. Maybe this is an exaggeration? If I haven’t already betrayed my beliefs about how problematic the medical model is for mental health, this piece might drive it home. Instead of recognizing our mental health crisis as the ‘canary in the coal mine’ for the current state of our social structures and institutions that seem to use people up instead of supporting them to experience high quality of life, we treat the symptoms of maladjustment and plug people right back in, making this about “fixing” the individual rather than exploring what we’re doing wrong as a society so we can adjust and maybe come a little closer to honoring the human spirit and maximizing our life experiences. Whew, that was a long sentence!
I believe there’s nothing wrong with your child(ren). And I hope you can find compassion for the members of this generation who are just doing their very best to make sense of and find their place in the world. I know my own children have absorbed the new worldview that they’ve inherited a clusterf*#k of an economy after previous generations have plundered the world’s resources and left them with few options. It’s hard to not see some truth in this new perspective.
The answer they’re being offered is conversion to a new religion that promises to take care of them, to relieve them of the responsibility of cleaning up the mess they were left. It’s incredibly seductive. Just claim fragility in the form of psychiatric diagnosis (or 2 or 3) or a trans ID and you’re born again with a new identity and needs that must be met by trusted “experts.” Your responsibility is washed away in this baptism–along with your freedom. As Jung warned, the New Gods have become diseases and phobias.
I operate with the assumption that we’re all just doing the best we can to get our needs met with our current skillset and understanding of the world. Personally, I believe all humans come wired with curiosity, creativity, and the drive to contribute to community in meaningful ways. When conditions are optimal, the “Universal Human Needs” for connection, autonomy, and transcendence are recognized and met by being in unconditional relationship with other humans we love and who love us. Who accept our flaws and recognize our strengths, and who work with us to find that meaningful contribution that imbues our life with purpose and true belonging. I imagine a more compassionate and forgiving world, where we don’t feel the need for “identities” that mask or shield our vulnerable hearts.
I also recognize the dangers of a Utopian vision and know that conditions are rarely optimal. This is the moment we’re in, and it feels a bit like a pressure cooker. I can’t help but be curious how this all plays out for culture and our families. Change is inevitable. It’s the one constant. Human civilizations iterate. I’m hopeful that I’ll be around to witness the next iteration. I think it has the potential to be enlightened and beautiful. It also has the potential to be a dystopian, transhuman nightmare. Either way, I have a sense of awe and wonder at our human capacity to impact Earth’s Life, for better or worse. I’m no longer frightened of the possible outcomes for humanity. I’m intensely curious to see which way things go!
We’ve certainly figured some things out as humans. We know the human capacity to overcome difficult life circumstances, even tragic ones. We know tragedy can break hearts to pieces, or it can break them open, depending on the story we believe about ourselves and where we place responsibility for the quality of our experience. To experience the world with an open heart is to recognize that life contains pain, and there’s beauty in that pain. There’s information in that pain. That pain determines much of our direction in life. Will we hide from it? Suppress it? Or use it to inform our learning? Will you let it guide you to your own healing work? The work that sets you free to get back to living?
I think it’s time we reclaim the human story of resilience. I can choose to take responsibility for my experience, if I recognize that it’s the result of my storytelling style, what I believe about myself and my capacity. A huge gift of this circumstance of having a trans-identified daughter and the work it demanded of me was the discovery of the power of faith. I’ve come to recognize that the “letting go” that I’ve encouraged parents to do may be next to impossible without this faith. There has to be some trust in the order of things. Where you derive that faith is deeply personal and won’t be the same for everyone.
Some have religious faith, faith in a higher power, a God who watches over us and has a plan. As you can imagine, I notice trends with the number of families that I work with who share this circumstance. Those whose faith remains strong or who’ve (re)discovered faith seem to have more stability and confidence. It provides them necessary comfort and contributes to a different experience not as burdened with excessive fear and anger.
For many this has rocked their faith whether it be religious or faith in our systems. You all know the word I think best captures this experience is destabilizing. I feel fortunate that I’d experienced destabilization in the past so I was able to recognize the invitation to clarify my values. To assess what I was doing that was working or not. To, as I like to say “calibrate my compass” and ensure I’m operating from stable ground, with well-vetted values and a strong inner guidance system. I’m so grateful that this circumstance came along and broke my heart open and gave me faith.
I don’t have a God. What I have is faith in Life itself. I have tremendous awe and wonder for the Earth that supports us and the persistence and resilience of Life which connects us to each other and to all other Life. Our metaphors matter because they shape our reality. I see you as separate from me only in the way that the individual cells in my body are separate from each other. We combine to make up a larger system. We’re both integral and insignificant when it comes to Life. And whether enlightened or dystopic, the next iteration of humanity will be temporary, but Life will persist. (And death is part of Life. A post for another day, but I find our fearful relationship with death incredibly unfortunate, and believe this specific fear contributes greatly to our declining quality of Life.)
So, all this said, what do I see as my responsibility to my kids? To the culture? To myself?
I think it’s my responsibility to LIVE. To model for my children Life in all its richness, and to keep showing up for it. To not allow this current divisive place we’ve reached as a culture (or a family) to wear me down and rob me of joy–or pain. I commit to recognizing pain as unavoidable and informative. I commit to fully feeling my emotions and to using them as a compass to guide me through any remaining healing. There’s always healing to happen. This is the human condition. That wise rabbi friend of mine recently shared a line with me from a Jewish children’s song, “We will reap in joy what we sow in tears.” It’s a different way of being in the world, and the more people who have the courage to let their hearts break open and embrace this way (I believe) the more chance we have of creating a period of enlightenment.
By choosing this way, I also provide my children a choice. By modeling a different, and (I believe) more compassionate, curious, open-hearted worldview, they’ll have something to turn to when (if) their own rigid world view stops working to meet those Universal Human Needs of connection, autonomy, and transcendence.
The pain of this circumstance with my children who’ve adopted a different worldview led me here. I’m truly grateful to be here. My experience is profoundly transformed as a result. There’s much peace and freedom and wonder and beauty over here. And yes, there’s still pain, but there’s meaning in the pain which means it’s no longer suffering, but information; it is also part of the richness of life (we will reap in joy what we sow in tears.) It’s integral to my compass that keeps me on track, that reminds me to assess the true source of any painful experience, so I can learn and grow from it when possible, or let things go that are not mine to own.
So, I am very curious now how you feel after reading this?
Did you find it depressing or optimistic? Did it leave you feeling helpless or inspired? We recently had our live group meeting where we discussed the most recent hcaw lesson, “What’s your storytelling style?” and we talked quite a bit about drinking glasses that contain water to half capacity. Hahaha! That was really difficult to say in a neutral way! It took me considerable effort to find a way to say it without using the word “filled.” I don’t even know if I succeeded? Our language is so important to our story! If you’d like support to assess your storytelling style and maybe learn how to update it so you can change your experience in 2023, I encourage you to dive into that learning content available to paid subscribers.
What do you say? Can we reclaim the story of human resilience? As always, I welcome your thoughts and questions!
