Over the past several months, I’ve had more difficult experiences and conversations than I can count.
Some conversations have gone better than I expected.
Others have gone exactly as badly as I feared — not because of the outcome, but because I froze, fumbled my words, or struggled to stay present.
I’ve apologized. I’ve listened. I’ve answered difficult questions. I’ve tried to own what belongs to me without defending myself or explaining it away.
And through all of it, I’ve been learning how incredibly difficult it is for me to simply stay engaged amid discomfort.
When I become overwhelmed or uncomfortable in an experience, I want so badly to withdraw.
Not physically. I’ll stay in the room or keep having the conversation.
But mentally and emotionally, I want to check out.
I want to stop listening with curiosity. I want to retreat into my own thoughts. I want to rehearse what I should have said or anticipate what the other person is about to say — I reach conclusions about their intentions before they’ve actually expressed them. I may still be sitting across from someone, but I’m no longer really having the conversation that is happening; I’m having a different one in my head.
So, I’m learning another way to engage difficult circumstances: Have the conversation in front of me. Listen to the person in front of me. Resist rehearsing the conversation beforehand or deciding what the other person is going to say.
I am learning to respond to what is actually happening as it happens. Own what is mine to own. And stay engaged even when I’m uncomfortable.
But I’m also discovering that staying engaged isn’t just about what is happening externally. It means staying engaged with what is happening internally, too. When the conversation ends, what I experienced doesn’t.
Through daily emotional inventories, I’ve been learning to pay attention to what the previous day’s events produced in me.
Sometimes I walk away feeling belittled, overwhelmed, unheard, rejected, judged, criticized, misunderstood, or accused. Other times I feel heard, understood, cared for, loved, accepted, hopeful, or like I belong.
And sometimes I feel several of those things all at once.
Something unexpected has happened through practicing this daily ritual: I’m getting better at recognizing those thoughts and emotions while the conversation is still happening. What started as a way to process my day afterward has slowly become a tool that helps me stay present in the moment. Practicing awareness when the pressure is off is teaching me awareness when the pressure is on.
Instead of allowing those thoughts and emotions to quietly accumulate until I eventually numb out or become paralyzed, I’m learning to stay engaged with them. To acknowledge them. To be curious about them. To bring them to Jesus and ask what his opinion is.
I’m also learning that my feelings aren’t necessarily good or bad—something to embrace or avoid. Some are comfortable, and others are uncomfortable, but all of them give me something to be curious about. Instead of trying to get away from what I’m feeling, I’m learning to ask why I’m feeling it and what it might be revealing.
Then, I get up the next morning and practice doing it again.
I’m discovering that growth doesn’t always make difficult things feel easier.
Sometimes growth is becoming more willing and able to stay engaged with what is difficult or uncomfortable — both around me and within me.
To remain present.
To pay attention.
To listen.
And instead of checking out when I become uncomfortable, I’ve been responding to what is actually happening in the moment.
With hope,
Nathan
