'Because I must...'

Something happens to us when we’re forced to do something we must.

Initially, there's a period of suck-it-up-and-push-through.  This strategy can be super effective in survival.  To 'batten down the hatch' holds true in physical storms as well as psychological and emotional storms.  All we need to do is survive, right?  The storm will pass and we'll got back to normal.  So, we develop strategies for storm management.  These may be physical rooms of safety or shots of energy drink to pull us through the all-nighter.  It's just a moment of survival.  The adrenaline pulls us through and our body begins processing the shot of chemical defense.

Yet storm cellars aren't meant for living and energy drinks aren't designed to nourish.  Survival strategies are effective in spurts, but not for the long haul.  Coping strategies must emerge to shift from survival to living and acceptance and adaptation must be present to shift from living to thriving.  

I knew a man once that didn't like his job, yet had a family to feed so he worked as wholly as his soul would let him.  He took early morning calls with foreign markets and took clients to dinner late in the evening.  His daily newspaper habit shifted from his favored Arts section to the hockey box scores in an effort to connect with a Canadian buyer.  His definition of relationships operationalized during trans-Atlantic flights and on-site hosted meetings.  This is the cost of relationship with his clients.  As a result, this level of commitment became his standard for any relationship with him: face-to-face, thoughtful, intentional, reciprocal.

I watched a mother put her career, social life, and body on hold to care for a baby.  I watched as she found new depths to her reserve each time she thought she had run out.  I watched as her body kept the score for each new found reserve.  Her aches and pains became chronic while the ibuprofen shifted to the bottle requiring a co-pay.  As a result, this became her standard for care: all-in, sacrificial, unquestioned.

The sales exec didn't like this job and wished for a life without the effort of maintaining relationships with people he didn't like.  The mother longed for physical wholeness, the ability to plan her day without contingency on her hip and the return of her sense of individual being. And yet their obligations required them to give in ways they didn't know they could. 

In his less healthy moments, the sales exec becomes critical of haphazard relationships and is hyper-sensitive to relationships for the sake of the transaction.  The mother can be judgmental of those who are hesitant to give of their stores and challenge those stand in the way of what her child needs.

Yet in their brighter, healthier moments, he is a tremendous, thoughtful host, dialed-in to the needs of his guests, catering the meal and the conversation to their strengths.  The mother excels when others give up, knowing the depth of her reserves and having confidence in the calibration of their quantity. 

The things we 'must do' change us, as do all our interactions, by shaping our standards.  Whether these 'must do' change us for the better or the worse is up to us.  The outcome is partially one of humility and empathy, led by a recognition of the standard and a humility in knowing that my standard may not be yours.

So I wonder: how have my 'must dos' shaped me? How can I shift these experiences to the affirmative?