Dear Jennifer,
I can’t catch a break. I go on job interviews, think everything went well, and later get an email that they are “going in a different direction.” I go on online dates, and all seemed good until they ghost me. It feels like my life has always been this way. My dad walked out on us when I was a kid, and my mom was an alcoholic. Maybe I don’t know how to be happy? I see other people living these amazing lives and everything seems to work out for them. Why don’t I get that?
— Unlucky at Life
Dear Unlucky at Life,
Let me begin with compassion and gratitude for you, fellow traveler. These disappointments, frustrations, and painful memories seem emotionally burdensome, and I send you wishes of self-compassion as you carry them. I also send gratitude for the quiet hope that peeks out from behind your words. Hope, coupled with a few strategic deep breaths, makes it difficult to remain firmly planted in place when we feel stuck.
I’m not sure why the Universe gave you the cards you got, and others got different ones. My original response to your email addressed the importance of crafting strategic and resilient narratives about our difficult life events. I deleted that response when a memory tapped me on the shoulder and a different angle emerged.
A Memory That Changed My Response
January 2000. I was 26 and approximately six months from finishing my Ph.D. I was burned out, stressed out, and quite possibly more than a little bit depressed. I was tired of my life, lackluster dating relationships, and watching everyone else (seemingly) enjoy their 20s while I was stuck studying for exams and writing a dissertation.
A few weeks into the month, I received the news that a summer camp friend had died in a car accident on January 21st. We had been very close, even living together one summer when she was the camp’s lifeguard and I the arts and crafts director. We had lost touch a few years before she died because we both got busy with daily life and had moved frequently. Though the contact had faded, the love hadn’t. News of her death evoked a visceral response of devastation that I can still remember 24 years later. It’s rare to have friends who love us unconditionally and Tamara was one of those friends.
I traveled to a small town in New Mexico to attend her funeral. I sat in her childhood church and listened for two hours as people talked about how special she had been and how much life she had lived in her 25 years. I looked at recent pictures of her and saw how the long-legged teenager had morphed into a graceful young adult who loved her husband, her pets, ballet, country music, and being a dance teacher to at-risk children.
Tamara, per the eulogies, had managed to hang on to her emotional depth and her silliness that could lighten the mood when balancing laughter was needed. She had been a natural teacher and leader, and guided people to their potential by believing in them wholeheartedly and not allowing them to give up on themselves. A line from one of her students still makes me smile: “Life is a video game. Tamara finished this level before the rest of us.” She sure did.
What would Tamara say to you, Unlucky at Life?
Probably she would begin with a big hug that would warm your soul and she would likely shed tears with you about the childhood pain that you still carry. Then she would tell you that she loved and believed in you, and she would sit with you as you painstakingly carved out a plan that would nudge you toward your potential and life goals. She would call you every night before you fell asleep to hold you accountable for your commitments to yourself and to her. Tamara would motivate you to take risks instead of settling for guarantees that won’t get you where you really want to go. She likely would tell you that there is a reason that things don’t work out and she would quote lyrics from Garth Brooks’s classic Unanswered Prayers (she was a big fan of his). She would tell you to breathe into fear instead of avoiding it. She would tell you to never give up on hope because it often is the flashlight that guides us through the dark.
She was wise beyond her years, wasn’t she?
The Hard Truth
Today I’m a lot older than Tamara was and have lived over twice as long as she did. I have learned that the pain and questions that you carry likely aren’t going to be easily resolved and redirected with a good hug and solid life plan. There are big feelings involved and our feelings often don’t follow our plans. The truth is, Unlucky, that it is hard to watch other people live lives that appear to be much more fun, fulfilling, and joyous than the ones that we are experiencing every day. I’ve been there too, and it hurts.
Where to begin, Unlucky?
Likely your path forward will begin with some big questions and a few heaping spoonfuls of curiosity and self-compassion. Here are some questions to get you started.
- What do you really want for your life?
- How does that align (or misalign) with what other people want for your life or what they want for their own lives?
- Is your approach to managing your time, attention, and energy aligned with pursuing what you want? What changes might help?
- How does your self-talk get in your way? How do your fears and your approach to tolerating uncertainty affect your willingness to explore new ground and take risks?
- Where can you turn when you feel scared, uncertain, and need someone to love you?
A Reframe About “Luck”
Growing old is a gift that isn’t given to everyone. Tamara died without a gray hair, reading glasses, or a middle-aged body. She is forever 25. She lived a good life, and I am very grateful for that, but it only lasted for 25 years. She never needed to reinvent herself for a new chapter because her story ended abruptly and too soon.
You, however, are in a different space, Unlucky. Your current life sounds like it isn’t fitting you and you desire a change. Good for you. Maybe a good starting place is to reconsider the narrative that you carry about why things have not yet worked out. Maybe it wasn’t ever about your luck. Maybe those interviews and dates didn’t work out because they weren’t meant to be part of your story. (Thanks, Garth Brooks) Maybe with some soul-searching and new strategies, you will encounter different outcomes, different life goals, and a beginning to your life’s best chapter. Maybe you are one fingertip away from sentences that begin with the phrase “Just when I was about to give up…” Maybe, dear one, you are luckier than you believe to feel the constraint of your comfort zone and to know what you don’t want anymore, which often is a precursor to identifying what we do want.
One piece of advice?
Find your Tamara. Don’t try to do the soul-searching and risk-taking alone. We are mammals and need journey companions to provide support and warmth when the world feels cold and scary. Your Tamara hopefully is a beloved family member or friend who believes in you and wants to see you succeed. If you can’t easily identify such a person, seek out a therapist, mentor, or a mindful self-compassion class. Your journey likely will require a lot of courage to continue taking risks when they do not seem to be paying off. Who will motivate and love you through the process?
You have one chance to explore the world and find a you-sized life that nobody else could live. What are you going to do with it?
Ubuntu, fellow traveler. May your hope guide your new path.
— Jennifer
For Tamara…and Ben
