For the longest time, standing up for myself was a concept I admired in others but struggled to embody. This wasn't due to a lack of desire or understanding but rather a complex web of reactions and emotions that seemed to bind me. Often, I found myself caught in what's described as the "fawn" stage of the stress response, particularly in confrontational situations—I did nothing. This reflex, potentially rooted in past trauma or seemingly trivial incidents, left me grappling with an undercurrent of anxiety, an endless loop of rumination, and a penchant for being overly critical of myself.
The aftermath of not holding my ground wasn't always immediately evident. Yet, the consequences—persistent anxiety, mental replays of arguments, and a harsh self-judgment—were unmistakable and far-reaching. In witnessing others set boundaries and speak their minds freely, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of envy and admiration. These individuals seemed to possess the kind of resilience and self-assurance I longed for.
My journey into self-inquiry, particularly through my explorations within the psychedelic realm, magnified the importance of confronting this challenge. It was as though the universe had selected this specific issue from my personal "trauma filing cabinet" for me to address. In my reflections, I observed the paralysis that enveloped me in moments of conflict, trying to understand the impact on my body and psyche. The reasons for my hesitance were clear yet complex: the fear of upsetting others, losing control of their reactions, and the daunting possibility of being disliked.
However, a turning point arrived. I found myself in a scenario where setting boundaries was not just necessary but imperative. The process was far from seamless; the decision to assert myself led to discomfort and disapproval from the other party. The familiar flood of negative thoughts ensued—predictions of social and professional doom. Yet, this time, something shifted. Instead of succumbing to the spiral of fear and self-doubt, I chose to sit with the discomfort and acknowledge it without allowing it to define me. This marked a significant departure from my usual response, a step towards detaching from the incessant, critical voice within.
The aftermath was filled with mixed emotions, including a sense of loss for not extending the proverbial olive branch. However, the discomfort I felt was a necessary sacrifice for the sake of mental clarity and emotional autonomy. This experience prompted me to contemplate how different my past might have been had I possessed the courage to stand up for myself earlier. Yet, I also recognised that without these struggles, I wouldn't have achieved the same level of self-awareness.
Standing up for oneself is indeed a double-edged sword. It requires confronting not just the immediate fear of conflict or disapproval but also the deeper, more insidious fears that lie beneath our surface. As I continue to navigate this path, I am learning that the strength to assert myself comes not from avoiding discomfort but from embracing it. This process, though painful, is essential for forging resilience, establishing boundaries, and ultimately finding peace within oneself.