Warning! Content(s) may liberate you.

(Reposted from Jackie's Substack Willable)

“We’re so busy watching out for what’s just ahead of us that we don’t take the time to enjoy where we are.” ~ Bill Watterson

Over the past few years in my new gig, I’ve accumulated scattered lists and a plethora of notebooks chock-full of themes, topics, and ideas I want to muse about. So many observations of the world, prompts, and thoughts, but never enough writing time.

I decided to cast aside my notebooks and lists and try to pen something special for the new year. I wanted to speak to gratitude and hope. Uncertainty abounds for a majority of Americans, and we could all use a little lift.

Although I definitely noticed the cost of a package of chocolate covered raisins at the grocery store the other day (a mere $17–ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!), my family’s blessings runneth over. We have a home. We’ve never gone hungry (except for “I’m not eating that!”). We can weather a few financial storms (as she knocks hard on wood!). Our children had cute Halloween costumes, a wonderful Christmas, and a large Thanksgiving meal. I’m quite grateful and don’t take any of this for granted, but none of this spoke to me in the way I envisioned.

My thoughts finally culminated on Sunday evening and the theme arrived. As I sat reading in my chair in the living room, Sean sat in another chair next to me. The TV was playing a football game that no one could hear, because all the kids were near. Blankets and stuffies were strewn about the floor. The bigger kids were using screens, spatting, and the little was driving babies and animals in a toy stroller. It was dark outside and cozy within.

With a heartbreaking novel in hand and my well-worn journal next to me, I gazed at nothing in particular and thought, I’m content.

As a notoriously anxiety-fueled nutso, finding contentment is a surprising, yet grand and welcomed gift. (I’m sure this is also surprising to readers and anyone who’s ever met me, but hang with me for a while.)

Here’s the deal: I really do feel an air of contentedness in my life. I’ve calmed and chilled so much that sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. (Yet another Easter egg for you, faithful reader.)

Before I begin to share this great epiphany, a few items of housekeeping: 1) No, I’m not currently struggling from AE, but thanks for the concern; 2) I am still a crazy person; 3) I recently opened up a counseling session asking to be cured from my knee-jerk judgment and uncanny ability to rage on a dime; 4) I am far from perfect, and 5) I’m proud of how hard I’ve worked towards inner peace.

I feel like my past seven and a half years post-AE can be divided into two parts: 1) the action and 2) the reflection. For years, I did my best to SuRvive and Recover, going predominantly on gut instinct. I felt myself doing things that had merit, even when I couldn’t always understand or articulate why.

As I worked to Rebuild my life and pushed my way into interesting-to-me research about resilience, hope, nostalgia, and now, contentment, I finally started to make sense of my life. I also learned that much of my healing wasn’t based on amorphous intuition, but sensical explanations.

When my near-death and traumatic experience shut down every part of the life I knew, I buried myself in self-reflection. I used mantras and drew from the inner strength of my determination, dreams, faith, and relationships to prove myself resilient in the face of destruction. I worked hope like the muscle it is by setting reasonable goals and following the pathways I had available to me. I reframed cherished memories into future endeavors that felt meaningful and purposeful.

From books, podcasts, and classes, I learned about the science and benefits of mindfulness through things like deep breathing, calming your nervous system, meditation, and mental health treatment. I first (incorrectly) perceived this ad nauseum information as (boring) nothing more than naval gazing. Yet, at some point it permeated my stubbornness, and I transitioned into a living in the moment mindset. I finally learned how to embrace the right now and accept the what is.

And slowly but surely, I turned this ah-ha knowledge into daily rituals. Journaling, quiet time, reading, sleep, self-care, exercise, music, nature, fresh air, healthy habits, positive self-talk, counseling, and actual deep breaths.

Through soul searching, hard work, and elapsing time came a newfound ease. And contentment!

Given the life I previously lived, I wasn’t even sure how to spell C O N T E N T, much less define it. My rough explanation is: I can finally stand myself Sunday through Saturday. I find happiness in the everyday. I don’t constantly seek the next thrill, joy, or competition. I don’t need lists of productivity for worthiness. And my identity lies in the wide array of what constitutes Jackie M. Stebbins, not just Jackie-the-trial-lawyer-achiever-doer.

Researchers who know more than me and have studied thousands of years of history on the subject found that contentment is the most underappreciated emotion in history. Turns out I wasn’t the only one hamster-wheeling my way through life and chasing highs.

My heavy truth is that prior to 2018, I was hardly ever satisfied with where I was at and what I was doing. Going way back to childhood, I’ve always wanted more, bigger, better, greater, winner.

I know that’s not all bad. I’m (mostly) unapologetic that my lack of contentment pushed me to work hard for good grades, a black belt, law school distinction, and national recognition as a trial lawyer. It offered me a path towards the place and life I wanted as an attorney in Bismarck.

But my problems always seemed to lie in that other, sharper side of the sword. In pushing myself so hard and going to such great lengths to compete, I (usually) refused to stop and appreciate the little things. Taking note of my morning cup of coffee; pausing to look out the window; enjoying time spent sitting in contemplation or reading; and learning for learning’s sake were things I found tedious, cliche, or a waste of time. I was a self-fulfilling prophesy running in a circle: I’m too busy to ever take time for small things, so I miss the little things when I’m hustling.

Unfortunately, it was only as my life was completely caving-in, circa 2017-18, that I realized and admitted to myself that I was sick of my inability to ever appreciate a moment. Be the success grand or miniscule, I only felt like it was yet another steppingstone. Whether I knew it was unsustainable or plain old detrimental, I had finally grown weary of chasing the next accolade/high/victory.

And then AE detonated. The demands were gone, the deadlines vanished, the money dried up, and I was stuck holding the bag. What have I done? Who am I? What the hell happened? How do I get myself out of this?

What’s next?

Even decrepit dogs can learn new tricks, but old habits die hard.

Through my past five years of counseling, Dr. Nev has worked (HARD!) to get to me answer the following: What more will finally be enough?

I was pretty lost and she’s quite wise (but we knew that). Turns out, she was on to something. The very tenant of contentment.

I had a lot to learn and copious amounts of baggage to drop.

There are two historical strategies in seeking contentedness: The “More Strategy,” and the “Enough Strategy.” And there’s no need for a game show or jackpot to answer the “Which category did Jackie fall in?” question. The more strategy was my way of life.

It’s America and capitalism! More is better! Drill baby drill! Rest is for suckers! Money may not quite buy happiness, but for sure purchases options! More can be even more with your unrequited willpower and agency!

I always wanted over and above. With me at the helm, our firm grossed 1 million dollars just prior to my getting sick. And I know I wouldn’t have settled for anything less in the ensuing years. When I walked out the door, I was earning about $10,000 less per month than my career’s starting salary. Yet instead of celebrating my wins, I obsessed over the times I “lost.”

2018 taught me a lot, but probably the most important lesson I’ve learned since is that the only more that truly matters in life is your health. And all the Type-A, competition, and goodwill in the world doesn’t do jack shit to guarantee it.

I once heard Melody Hobson say, “People don’t change without pain.” Touche. Sometimes the night must get truly dark before you learn to pause and appreciate when the bright sun once again rises in the east and gives you another day.

It’s taken a lot of hurt for me to look up and to change. And while I can now appreciate the transformation, I don’t pretend it happened overnight. Mindfulness takes work. And some initial discomfort.

Early on in my Buddha quest, I was generally able to see that I had previously lived in an undesirable and unsustainable way. Yet I struggled mightily with the next logical questions: How do I change that? How does a person live better? Can I learn to be content?

Between my stark personal realizations, Dr. Nevland’s pointed questions, reflection, and the great healer of time, I finally began my slow crawl from more to enough.

The research shows there are ways to cultivate contentment, including: practicing mindfulness, identifying your well-being contingencies, and radically accepting all emotions. In hindsight, I’ve done plenty of this, but in my humble opinion, my contentment stems mostly from one place: acceptance.

At the bare minimum, seeking contentment began with me saying, “I am enough.”

I am enough. Jackie with or without being a lawyer, is enough. The me who can be funny at times, serious, and contemplative, is enough. The Jackie who will probably never weigh what her driver’s license says or have as much money as she wants, is enough. The me who is aging, just like all of humanity, is enough. The Jackie who will lose and gain friends, is enough. The me with boundaries, is enough. The Jackie whose family and friends loved her before, thru, and after AE, is enough. The me with chronic health, but an attitude to manage it, is enough.

Me. As is. Every day. Is enough.

Do I still have goals? Yes. Do I still dream? Big yes. Being content doesn’t mean giving up on all achievements or becoming listless. But for me personally, it’s not believing that the only way to purpose or happiness is by looking ahead (and checking off to-do lists). I’ve fine-tuned myself to see that I can have contentment on a Monday or Thursday. In beautiful blazers with matching shoes or in rollerblading shorts. Sometimes it’s on a big stage, but most often, being enough is acting alone with only my thoughts, simply reading and writing. (Like writing a blog/Substack that less than one million people read!)

Contentment has also come from the recognition of my own mortality, and life’s unfair, sometimes fleeting, and precious nature. This life, the one I have now, with all the good and the (sometimes) overwhelmingly bad, is all I have. It’s all I will ever have. So I must embrace each day.

I’ve had some challenging conversations with Dr. Nevland about my mortality. As we’ve discussed repeatedly, AE sat me on the brink of death for quite a while. And it took a long time to believe that I had carefully tiptoed away from it all. But it’s hard to shake sometimes: My body and mind have been through a lot. How long do I get to stay here with my kids and Sean?

Contentment isn’t agonizing over death (that would make getting out of bed challenging if not impossible). For me personally, contentedness comes from the simple recognition that yes, everyone dies someday. So I may as well make today, in whatever shape, awesome.

This has been revelatory and (in maybe a morbid way?!) comforting. No sense fretting about what’s outside of my control and sight. Stay focused on right now. Wear and scuff the shoes. Use the fine dishes. Recklessly spend a bit on fun. Look your best. Participate when it’s a hell yes! Say no without apology or explanation. Enjoy big things when they come, but always appreciate the trivial stuff.

Lately, I feel myself silently saying, “It doesn’t matter,” about lots of things. I’m literally walking around looking and thinking that doesn’t matter. If it’s not my family or sustaining my wellbeing, it really, truly, does not matter.

Contentment doesn’t mean losing all long-term thinking or acting selfishly, but it does mean only looking inward to satiate your enough. Once I learned and accepted that nothing outside of myself was going to grant me enough, it gave me permission to live for my true self. Lots of things and people were going to come and go through my life, but I had to remain the constant.

It was one thing to say these things, but the real work came in believing and practicing it. And as always, the devil was in the details. I hate it when I feel so old (maybe wise?!) that cliches become true, but starting small, building, accepting, counseling, and making my new way of thinking a habit, really did move the needle. And it is so worth it. Finding contentment is liberating!

As you move into the cold days of January and all the promise of a new year, take some simple time for yourself to practice mindfulness, and to reflect upon how much more is enough right now. You’ll be surprised at how soon you begin to reap what you sow.

Photo cred: My dear friend, a brilliant attorney and talented photographer, Chad Nodland.

“Every day is the prime of your life.” ~ Amy Krouse Rosenthal

Finding contentment in your beautiful and imperfect life is Willable. Pass it on.

Luv, jackie

__________

/ / The JM Stebbins blog is an autoimmune encephalitis blog from former lawyer and autoimmune encephalitis survivor, Jackie M. Stebbins.

Jackie M. Stebbins is also the author of Unwillable: A Journey to Reclaim my Brain, a book about autoimmune encephalitis, resilience, hope, and survival. //

-- If you like Jackie, Elton John, or that Jackie loves Elton John, but mostly if you appreciate Jackie’s writing, you can BUY HER A COFFEE here. --

  Make sure you're following Jackie on Substack @jmstebbins