The Power of Questioning
I’m slowly unraveling and subsequently unlearning each thing I’ve been taught.
Some things are allowed to stay, but sadly the body count of discarded ideas is much greater than what’s allowed to stay, similar to my closet.
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Consumption: the need for more. But why do I need more?
Equality: just wanting equality for all in my brain is not enough. It won’t make even a ripple.
Personality: what if being around people actually drains me, not rejuvenates?
Performance: why do I strive to be the best? That’s a losing battle before I can so much as choose my weapon.
Marriage: what if I slowly lost my identity as I was taught to please my husband (as early as age single digits), and my rejection of marriage was me putting myself first in a severe manner?
Thursdays: why has every Thursday been a bad day for me as long as I can remember?
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What if I followed the path others want for me, and before I hit 30 I realize the early life I led was all someone else’s agenda for me?
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So I sit and question - in my journal and in prayer.
Why do I feel an insatiable need for more? Because I was taught you work hard —> you reward yourself. Corporate America became threatened with projections of us only working 20 hour weeks, so we slowly were introduced to this consumerism. We were taught to work harder to climb the ladder, because lack of growth is death. If you climb the ladder, you’ll earn more — more money, more status, more influence. The more money you earn, the more fun you have. Work hard so you can play hard.
Here is one of my favorite challenging stories:
The Mexican Fisherman
One day, a businessman on vacation was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village. He looked out and noticed a fisherman rowing his boat to shore in the afternoon sun. The fisherman docked his boat and hopped out, resting his fishing pole on the side.
Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The businessman complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied, “only a little while.”
The businessman then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish?
The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The businessman then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a nice afternoon nap with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, señor.”
The businessman scoffed, “I am an American Investment Banker with a PhD in business management, and I could help you. You should spend more time fishing in deeper waters, and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the money you make from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats; eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats.
“Instead of selling your catches of fish to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor and eventually own your own production plant for canned food. You would control the product, processing, and distribution of fresh fish to thousands of people. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually New York City where you would run your expanding enterprise.”
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But señor, how long will this all take?” To which the businessman replied, “15-20 years.”
“But what then, señor?”
The businessman laughed and said, “That’s the best part! When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions.”
“Millions, señor? Then what?”
The businessman said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”
The fisherman, still smiling, looked up and said, “Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”
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Who cares about climbing the damn ladder? I’ve decided I like being grounded.
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What if the reason I hit burnout and the reason I had to spend every weekend mostly under the covers of my bed recuperating was because I’m a hardcore introvert? I chose a profession with lots of face to face time with many people. At one point it was upwards of 200 a week. I’m incapable of not giving the very best of me to the people I’m with, so each time I was with a patient — they took a piece of me. It started to fracture my soul. My weekends were the time I tried to put those shards back together, but when you spend 5 days a week fracturing and 2 days a week healing, most wounds stay gaping. I didn’t give myself permission to do it any other way, because it wasn’t my decision to make.
Now, I see a fraction of the number I used to see, and work 6 hours a day at most, so that I have enough time to put myself together. One of the things I discovered is since taking the time to make my heart and soul whole, it doesn’t fracture. And if I have someone who walks in with the ability to fracture me, I don’t treat them. I no longer question my intuition.
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Why in the world, in varying stages of my life, unless I’m on vacation and don’t know what day it is, would every Thursday be bad? It could be a day with 10 patients, a day with 40, a half work day, a slow day where I even got to go drink coffee with my friends for a couple hours, or it could be a rush and I don’t get to sit down all day. And yet, regardless of the circumstances, if it was a Thursday, it ended poorly.
Because that didn’t make much sense, I started questioning why that could be. A memory came to me: I was living in our first house in Somerset and my foster brothers were there, which puts me in late elementary or early middle school. My dad was hurriedly (the speed he spends most of his life in) and frantically cleaning the house. My foster brothers — the only ones who dared — were teasing my dad about this whole scenario. My dad was angry about something and then moreso about being teased. They were repeating, “Oh that’s right. It’s Thursday.”
I mentioned this phenomenon to my mom and she filled in the gaps. My dad only took one day off per week. It was always Friday. If he didn’t clean the house Thursday night, that meant he felt he needed to spend Friday cleaning the house before he could relax. In essence, because he took one day off per week, we knew when Thursday came we were to stay out of his way.
I spent my childhood and early adult life dreading Thursdays, and I left the house at 16 for goodness’ sake! I allowed Thursdays to be bad days for 28 years of my life! (One EMDR session and Thursdays have been just another day of the week.)
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There is power in questioning the things you have in your mind. There is power in questioning why you react disproportionately to certain things, like when Nick doesn’t remember something important I’ve told him. My assumption for years is it was because I’m not important enough to listen to.
Things that were not your doing don’t have to continue undoing you. All you have to do is ask why.
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