Holding More of Reality
Life can sometimes be excruciatingly painful. We experience trauma, tragedy, and loss, then struggle to integrate those experiences into our understanding of ourselves and the world. As we search for answers, we often find ourselves asking:
Why is this happening to me?
Why does life hurt so bad?
Why can’t I get over this?
Many spiritual teachings encourage us to replace fear with love, trust that everything is happening for a reason, and maintain a positive outlook. Although these ideas do contain important truths, they can feel painfully out of touch when you're struggling to pay your bills, caring for a dying family member, or wondering how you'll make it through another day.
How am I supposed to have hope for the future when I am in debt and just lost my job?
How am I supposed to remove fear when I have a dying family member?
How can I hold love in my heart when I am exposed to so much chaos, division, and hate?
This internal conflict reveals a critical question: how are we supposed to foster “positive” energy when our environment and circumstances are filled with so much discomfort, fear, and despair?
Most of us have been taught that one must replace the other. That healing means eliminating pain. That gratitude should erase grief. That confidence leaves no room for doubt. My experience has been the opposite.
Life can be Excruciating and Extraordinary at the Same Time
Reality contains pain, suffering, and fear. It also contains love, hope, and compassion. Expanding your awareness isn't choosing one over the other; it's developing the capacity to hold both.
Through my life, I experienced plenty of excruciating moments. Whether it was the traumas of combat, the pain I witnessed in policing, or the devastation of losing my wife to cancer, there were many times when I felt like my world was collapsing and I doubted my ability to move forward. I know the sting of failure, the gravity of grief, and the burden of depression.
The challenge was that I thought it was supposed to be an ‘all or nothing’, as if I was supposed to always feel positive. That if I wasn’t living with ‘love’ all the time, that I was doing it wrong. That if I was feeling fear, I was failing. And if I felt depressed or anxious, then I wasn’t being present.
And that’s the problem: we tend to simplify everything into a binary. We treat our lives as if it’s an “either-or” situation where one can’t exist with the other present.
The thing that changed my perspective was watching the video my late wife recorded to be played at her funeral. In it, she said, “I had everything I ever wanted.” She expressed gratitude for her life, despite it ending too early.
At first, I struggled with integrating that. I had just lost “everything I ever wanted.” I lost my wife, my future, and the mother of my children. I lost the life we were building together, and I struggled with the unfairness of it all. Her revelation might have been extraordinary, but it was realized through an excruciating situation. How was I supposed to find meaning when I felt devastated?
And that’s when I realized the paradox… Why did I have to choose? What if it could be both?
Could love exist at the same time as grief? Can hope exist in the same space as fear? Can conviction share space with doubt?
Those questions led me to understand the paradox a little better. And I realized that inside all my excruciating moments, something else was quietly present. Underneath the failure was the hope for a positive outcome. Inside the grief was a deep love. Even my struggles with mental illness eventually became catalysts for deeper self-awareness.
I learned that it was the excruciating moments themselves that set the stage for something extraordinary to be revealed.
The Invitation of the Storm Cloud
I like to view our uncomfortable feelings like a storm cloud. On the surface, the dark cloud presents a scary and intimidating sight. The lightning evokes fear, the roiling masses trigger anxiety, and the rain is the negative thoughts we have: self-doubt, worries, and fears.
We all have this cloud inside us, and there are times when it is overwhelming and all-consuming. But the cloud provides us with an invitation. On one hand, we can take it as it is and allow it to consume us. Allow the fear, grief, and worries to keep us down.
Or, we can look deeper into the cloud and see what it really represents. Because perhaps behind the pain of grief is the love we hold for the person we lost? What if behind the fear is the love we hold for life, and behind the negative thoughts is the love we have for ourselves?
Perhaps the uncomfortable emotions and thoughts are showing us what is wanting to surface and be acknowledged?
The storm cloud doesn’t want to be feared; it wants to be understood. It is reminding us about the love in our lives. It is encouraging us to hold the love alongside the pain, fear, and stress. It is inviting us to expand our perception so that we can hold more of reality, instead of shrinking in the face of it.
The Art of Holding Both
Life will never be just beautiful, and it will never be just painful. The moment we stop resisting that truth is the moment we become capable of living more fully.
We spend so much energy trying to avoid what hurts or chasing what feels good, as if life should be one or the other. But reality doesn’t work that way. The same moment can hold joy and grief, love and loss, hope and uncertainty. That is the paradox, expressed in how we feel.
The goal isn’t to eliminate the hard parts, but to become big enough to hold all of it.
After losing my wife, I got a memorial tattoo. It has three distinct elements:
1. Beauty Comes at a Cost
The first element is a rose, with a drop of blood on one of the thorns. It’s a reminder that the beauty of life comes at a cost. The things that provide the deepest meaning expose us to the risk of loss and suffering:
Love comes with the risk of grief.
Growth comes with the discomfort of change.
Purpose comes with responsibility.
Connection comes with vulnerability.
Some experiences ask a price we would never willingly pay. Yet that doesn't prevent us from recognizing what they revealed, what they strengthened, or what they made possible. The beauty doesn't erase the pain, and the pain doesn't diminish the beauty.
I would never wish for the pain. I would also never deny the beauty that grew through it. And I no longer need one truth to erase the other, because the most meaningful things in life always ask something of us.
2. Transformation is Always an Option
The second element is a butterfly. I have three, representing myself and my children. The butterflies signify the transformational potential that exists in adversity. That we are not defined by what wounds us, but by how we transform because of it.
We often think adversity will either break us or build us. But perhaps that's another false binary. Adversity can wound us while also becoming the catalyst for healing. It can leave scars while revealing strengths we didn't know we possessed. One doesn't have to exist in the absence of the other.
And since my kids and I are still growing, the butterflies are intentionally left incomplete, to leave space for who we are becoming. Because although we can’t control what happens to us, we do get to choose who we become because of it, and that’s where our power lies.
3. We Always Have a Choice
Lastly, I have a quote from a cheesy movie that I love. It states: “I live wherever I am.”
That quote is a reminder that life will continue to give us moments that are messy, painful, beautiful, and confusing, often at the same time. We can’t control the mix, but we can choose where we place our attention. We can become consumed by what's wrong, and life will feel unbearably heavy. Or, we could bypass the hardship and pretend everything is okay. Neither leads to wholeness.
The goal isn’t to ignore the hard parts or bypass the real challenges and struggles we are facing. Instead, the goal is to look into the pain and fear and see what lies underneath, allowing us to find gratitude and meaning regardless of our situation.
I can be grateful for my kids while grieving my late wife. I can appreciate a walk outdoors while struggling with mental illness. I can find new meaning in a devastated life. Living a life of gratitude allows me to accept the hardship and appreciate the beauty. That is my version of “living wherever I am.”
Expanding Our Capacity
It’s about knowing that we can fully live, whatever the circumstances. We can choose to continue allowing our fear, worries, and doubts to consume us, or recognize that love, hope, and faith can exist in the same space.
So instead of bypassing the struggle, accept it. Instead of resisting the hardship, build a relationship with it. Recognize that it provides necessary context and contrast to our perspective.
We can love others more deeply because we know what it feels like to lose.
We can love ourselves more deeply because we know what it feels like to fail.
We can love life more deeply because we have experienced pain and discovered that life still contains beauty.
So, if you have that storm cloud in your life, remember to look deeper. Recognize the invitation it is offering. Understand that pain and fear can coexist with love and hope. And know that by developing a relationship with it, you are no longer bypassing or resisting but living a more complete existence and expanding your capacity to hold more of reality.
Life isn't asking us to choose between beauty and pain; it's asking us to become the kind of person who can hold both without denying either.
