Healing and Being Healed by Our Compulsions

Here we are again, at the beginning of a new year, when so many of us declare that we will turn over a new leaf with the intention to no longer be controlled by our old patterns. Even though statistics show this doesn’t work, we go back to this over and over again.

What would happen if this year, you hold the intention to honor your compulsions as wise teachers, who, if you listen, will show you how to unhook from struggle so you can know the joy of being fully alive? Rather than having your primary relationship be one of control, what about shifting into listening and learning?

Here is a story from my book, The Gift of Our Compulsions, that humorously invites us into this new way of being with our lives:

Imagine that you once had a friend called compulsion. This friend promised you surcease from all the pain in your life. But, as we have all discovered, relationships can be challenging, and as this one deteriorated, this former friend turns into a monster, and you order him out of your life. You come home one evening after a long day at work and discover this monster sitting in your living room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with great indignation.

When you get no response, you become irritated, and again you order him out of the house. He doesn’t move. Racing into the kitchen, you ask your family members why they let him in, and they say he just appeared. Returning to the living room, you announce that you are going to call the police, and he still does not respond.

Calling 911, you say, “There is an emergency. A monster has moved into my house, and I want you to take him away.” Kindly but firmly they tell you that this is not their job. You call social services, moving companies, and even the zoo, hoping to get rid of this unwanted guest. Nothing works. In desperation, you even toy for a while with the idea of calling in a hitman (your Uncle Joey could probably arrange it), but that idea is too abhorrent to your tastes.

Believing that you are solely responsible for your reality, you decide that the monster continues to lurk in your living room because you are not doing something right. So off to counseling you go. You describe the monster in your living room, and the counselor takes you back into your childhood, discovering a trauma there. This understanding brings deeper layers of mercy, and you let go of a big chunk of self-judgment. You drive home with a lightness in your heart and a smile on your face. With great hope you enter the living room, fully expecting the monster to be gone.

He isn’t.

In your frustration, you begin to listen to what the monster seems to be saying. You become convinced that you would feel a lot better if you got lost in your compulsion, and without a second thought, you go in search of its promise of peace and comfort. The relief you get from indulging in your compulsion is temporary, leaving discomfort, judgment, and maybe even despair in its wake. So you decide you will never do that again and claim that you will now be on top of these urges from the deep. You read books that show you how to be in control, and with great perseverance, you add these skills to your life. And for a while, it seems that the monster of compulsion is gone, for when you go into the living room you don’t see him there.

One evening, while watching television, the pile of blankets in the corner begins to move, and there, much to your dismay is the monster. In a flash, you realize that the whole time you thought you were in control again, he was taking a nap. Deep self-judgment and despair fill you and you immediately get lost in a wave of compulsion. After the wave moves through, you pick yourself up and say, with great determination, “This monster isn’t going to get the best of me!”

When you go into the living room you sit on the couch, close your eyes, and say powerful affirmations, repeating to yourself over and over again, “I am in control of myself, and this irritant is gone from my life.” You feel more empowered as you repeat these words, and you know that he is evaporating right now as you speak. In a very confident move, you take a peek through your closed eyes, only to discover that he is still there!

The more you go to your compulsion for relief, the deeper your self-judgment and despair grow. For you know that you are supposed to be in control of this monster. You are certain that everybody else can do this and that you have failed only because you are weak-willed, stubborn, and rebellious. So you try program after program, each one promising that they will eliminate compulsions, thus getting rid of the monster.

The sense that he would be gone if only you could figure it all out and understand how to “do” life right begins to eat at your heart. Despair floods your being, but with great strength, you affirm that you will just try harder, and then it will work. One morning, after a particularly rigorous week of controlling your compulsion, along with all the counseling, affirming, and visualizing that promised to get rid of it, feelings of deep grief and rage begin to overwhelm you.

“Everybody else can get rid of their monster in their living room” (what you fail to notice is that most people can’t, and if they do, another monster of compulsion usually moves in). “And if I can’t get rid of mine, there must be something terribly wrong with me.” You collapse on the floor in a flood of tears, self-judgment, and hopelessness.

In the middle of this storm, you hear a very faint, melodious voice. “Ask me why I am here.” In shock, you look up at the monster. In this whole time, he had never before spoken! “What did you say?” you ask in amazement. “Ask me why I am here,” he repeats. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you. You are the enemy. I didn’t invite you into my home. You came unbidden and are deeply unwelcome,” you respond. In a huff, you turn your back to him.

“What have you got to lose?” he asks. “Nothing else has worked. I haven’t gone away.” In your desperation, you realize that this is true. Picking yourself up out of the heap of self-failure, you slowly approach him. (This whole time you’ve never come any closer than ten feet.) Your heart is racing wildly. “This is the enemy,” you say to yourself. “What am I doing? I must be crazy. I will be overwhelmed and lost if I get any closer.” But your desperation urges you on.

As you sit down on the chair across from him, the first thing you notice is that the monster has kind eyes! “Why, you have beautiful eyes,” you say. “And they are even twinkling with joy and laughter. Why have I never noticed before?”

“Because you made me the enemy,” he says in his melodious and healing voice. “I am not your enemy. In fact, from the depths of your being, I came into your life to awaken you. I am not here to disturb you, even though I do evoke that in your mind. I am not here to harm you, even though I do bring up your fear. I am your ally, highlighting the old beliefs you have taken on about yourself that keep you separate from all that you yearn for. If you listen to that, which is upsetting in your life, it will show you the way back to yourself.”

In some corner of your being, you know that what he is saying is true. Rather than running away, you begin to listen, and your heart begins to melt. Joy surges through your body, and you become curious about the monster rather than reacting to him.

“You truly are my friend,” you say. His laughing eyes answer yes. “And you have been waiting a long time for me to pay attention and listen to what you have to say.” With a big sigh, he affirms this truth. You realize that every time he is present, he reveals another piece of your healing. Even with this connection, at moments your fear and confusion take over. But you notice the kindness in his eyes, and again you find yourself present for this former enemy.

Something he said finally becomes clear to you. Life is for you! Who you really are includes both the dark and the light; the dark is being used as a tool of awakening. When you understand this, it becomes evident that your life — all of it — is trustworthy. And the deep safety you long for comes when you learn how to be present for yourself in a curious and compassionate way.

If this calls to you, I invite you to read The Gift of Our Compulsions or sign up for my online course Being Healed by Our Compulsions self-paced.

In addition, my newest online interactive course, Falling in Love with You begins again on Feb. 1st. This course explores how you became disconnected from your own heart and the pathway back to meeting yourself with compassion and kindness, so you can know the joy of being authentically you.