“It is here that we encounter the central theme of existentialism; to live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering.” –Victor Frankl in Man’s Search for Meaning
None of us are immune from tragedy and losses. But why do some people wilt after tragedy, and others seem to flourish eventually?
In the 1970s and 80s, psychologist Salvatore Maddi and his team at the University of Chicago studied the Illinois Bell company employees before, during, and after unemployment. Maddi and his team observed one group of former employees who experienced severe distress following the loss of employment. However, they also observed another group of ex-employees that successfully adapted and grew from the pain. He coined this adaptation “existential courage.”
In the case of a pregnancy loss, to possess and embody existential courage is to go forth in the world without all the answers, even when one wants to hibernate and curse the world. It includes the feelings of anger and disappointment and also the reluctant acceptance that life is not fair, and that bad things sometimes happen to good people. Existential courage means embracing a seismic shift in your entire worldview, but not crushing the faith in yourself and the human spirit. Existential courage may feel like raising a white flag for today, but knowing you will wake up again and try tomorrow.
In my clinical practice, I sit with women and their partners following pregnancy loss. We sit together in the fog of pain that feels oppressive and never-ending. I encourage my clients to sit with the pain even when their brains are wondering “What did I do to deserve this? What could I have done differently?” The brain is a problem-solving machine, but the heart has its timeline and it begs to rest and heal.
According to Brené Brown, “Courage is a heart word. The root of the word courage is cor, the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage meant “To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.” Over time, this definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds. But in my opinion, this definition fails to recognize the inner strength and level of commitment required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about who we are and about our experiences–good and bad.” You are demonstrating existential courage when you own your story, all the parts.
We are all shaped by the sum of our life events, especially those that bring us to our knees and propel us onto another unplanned and jagged path. We have no road map or navigation system. Through the lens of existential courage, getting up the next day and surviving is, indeed, part of what psychologists also call posttraumatic growth. We can grow from adversity though the scars will be with us.
At the height of the healing process, I hear clients say, “I don’t want to exist this way anymore. This isn’t the way one should live!” They recognize the chasm between where they are currently standing and where they would like to be. We stand together at the proverbial edge and holler across the abyss, “Will I get through this?!”
Yes. Yes, you will. You can take the pain into your hands, hold it, nurture it, and when you are ready, you can create your own meaning and narrative. You are the author of your story. What will happen to the main character?
I encourage you to contemplate the words in Mari Andrew’s newest illustrated book, “Do you make magic happen, or does it happen to you?’
Let’s make magic, especially when it hurts.
This post was written by Huong Diep, co-author of All the Love: Healing Your Heart and Finding Meaning After Pregnancy Loss.
