Is “stoic” the new buzzword, or is it just a coincidence that I keep seeing it everywhere? Or is the Universe trying to tell me something? Like, “Pull up your big girl panties and get on with getting on, Court!”
I thought I knew what stoic meant, but to be sure, I looked it up. Oxford Languages defines it as: “a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining.”
I grew up with parents who expected stoicism. They didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with whining, sulking, pouting, crying, or drama. In fact, I hailed from stock who regularly threatened, “You want something to cry about? I’ll give you something to cry about!”
And they weren’t kidding. I learned very fast and the hard way (literally, with swats to my bottom) not to cry about “stupid” stuff.
Yet, that went against my nature. I’m a heart-on-her-sleeve sort of girl, so masking my emotions was like swallowing a balloon full of water and trying not to choke.
But as I’ve gotten older, I’m still very cautious about outwardly expressing negative emotions. Most people often describe me as “a ray of sunshine” or “one of the happiest people” they’ve ever met. And for the most part, I am, but I’m also human and have my dark days. However, few would ever know because my childhood conditioned me to be stoic, and the habit persists to this day.
Well, except for right before I got cancer. I was so overwhelmed by the upsetting events that led up to me falling ill that I belly-ached to anyone and everyone I knew. Uncontrollably. Ugh.
As I mentioned in the unsent Christmas letter of 2023, last year was particularly challenging for me. Excluding 2020, it was among the worst since the shit show that was 2008. (a.k.a. The start of the Dark Years that included cancer.)
At first, I called what was happening last year a “funk.” But it persisted for months, and finally, I had to recognize it for what it was: depression. There were days I’d only get out of bed to feed Mr. G before either returning to the bedroom or collapsing on the couch and not moving for hours. I was overwhelmed, burned out, freaking out, uninspired, and completely adrift.
Talking to friends didn’t help. They meant well but essentially dismissed me with, “Chin up. It’s not so bad. It’ll get better.”
It reminded me again it’s never a good idea to seek help from people who have never walked in whatever shoes you’re wearing. They just can’t relate.
Finally, I decided to just give up. Not on life (but let me tell you, I was fighting such thoughts). Rather, I gave up on trying so hard to “get over it” and “be happy.” Neither was going to happen.
Thanks to Wayne, I had the luxury of walking away from Haunt Jaunts for months and just sitting on the couch for hours if that’s all I had the energy or inclination to do.
I know it’s healthy to express your emotions, but I also know there are different ways to do that. Talking is one way. Writing is another. Journaling definitely helped me shove through my funk, and as I did, I started to see opportunities instead of just downsides in all the changes ahead.
And I guess that’s where the healing all started. I realized the impending Big Life Changes (BLCs) and all of their unknowns were paralyzing me.
But I didn’t want them to. I wanted to be like many of the characters I’d met in my favorite books, movies, and TV shows last year. No matter what shit hit the fans in their lives, they muscled through. Often with little complaint but with a lot of gumption and problem-solving. Because they were stoic to the core.
And yes. The irony of admiring in others what’s always felt uncomfortable to me isn’t lost on me. That’s why since “stoic” keeps popping up, I’m embracing stoicism in 2024.