White-Knuckling It

A little over a year ago, I went on the hardest road trip of my life. It was the week my brother was on trial, and to say it was difficult would be like saying that climbing Mt. Everest is a little hike uphill. It was soul-crushing, seemingly impossible to endure. But endure is exactly what I did.

I have been thinking a lot recently about exactly how I managed to survive that week, and the year that has followed. I vividly remember certain flashes of myself during this season. My hands, gripping the back of the wooden bench in front of me as I sat in the courtroom and listened to devastating testimony. Walking up and down the cavernous hallway, waiting for the verdict to be reached, clenching and relaxing my fists as I paced the tile floor. Some days even now, when I think of all that has happened, I have to find something to hold on to--a table, a railing, my husband--grabbing for a solid surface to keep myself upright. I was white-knuckling it, willing myself to keep standing, keep holding onto something, keep my grip tight so that the entire world wouldn't fall out from underneath me.

There were other moments I remember, too. Putting headphones in my ears and listening to old hymns, breathing slowly and carefully as I willed myself to believe that it was still well with my soul. Looking up through the branches of massive oak trees, sunlight falling through them bright and green, reminding me that the sky was still blue above me. Looking around a cozy booth at the faces of the family there with me, forcing ourselves to share a meal together, to smile, to remember that we had each other still. In those moments when I consciously loosened my grip, I could see that the world was still beautiful and not on the verge of collapse. Although I was devastated that my brother's world was absolutely ripped apart, I remembered that this life and all its broken circumstances are never the end of the story.

In the past few weeks, I have begun to notice how often I choose to white-knuckle it in my daily life. Simple tasks become events I have to grit my teeth and get through. Getting my kids ready for a swim, making it through the grocery store or putting dinner on the table have become challenges of physical exertion. Even forcing myself to sit and write (something I love and want desperately to do) is an act of monumental will. I'm not sure when white-knuckling it became my default mode. I would imagine that I used the technique often as a child surviving trauma. I know that it is helpful and sometimes even necessary during times of great distress. But when preparing for a day at the pool, a day of fun and sunshine shared with my children? When did this become a task that made me clench my jaw and ball my fists like a boxer heading into the ring?

When I was learning to drive, my uncle pointed out how tightly I was gripping the steering wheel, so that my knuckles were actually turning white. He let me know that this made me more dangerous behind the wheel, likely to overreact, turn too sharply or slam on the brakes. As a part of my practice while driving, he would occasionally remind me to wiggle my fingers and loosen my grip, sit back in my seat, and take a deep breath. The drive would be much more enjoyable and I felt more in control and capable when I wasn't scrunched up, tensing every muscle in my body. It took practice, though. Even now on some stressful drives, when I'm running late or stuck in traffic, I look down to see myself gripping the steering wheel with all I've got. When that happens, I wiggle my fingers, take a breath, and look for a better song on the radio. I tell myself that my death-grip isn't going to get me there any faster, that there is nothing I can do in that moment about the fact that I am already late. These techniques have become a familiar reflex for me in the car, something I do by just barely thinking about it.

The problem with white-knuckling my daily life is that it also makes me prone to overreact, lash out at those close to me, and generally feel like I am not in control. Isn't it funny? The very act of trying to keep a tight grip on the circumstances around me actually makes me feel more acutely how little control I actually have. The feeling that I can't keep things going my way is partly why I lose it with my kids, my husband, the person in line at the grocery store. I imagine I am not alone in my tendency to live this way. There are likely many reasons why we turn to white-knuckle existence. I know for myself, however, that the past abuse and trauma I experienced, combined with any new stressful circumstances in my daily life, has made this an easy default mode. I fall into this reflex of tightening my grip, clenching my fists, willing myself and those around me to function the way I think they should. I constantly fear that if I do not keep that iron grip of control everything, including me, will just fall apart.

I have to ask myself, would that really be so bad? Maybe I need to let myself fall apart a little more often. The world is broken, and life can be brutally hard. Would it be so bad to acknowledge that the pieces don't fit together now and then, rather than straining to hold them all in place? Letting go of what doesn't matter could give me an opportunity to appreciate what does. Instead of pushing my daughter to let me brush her hair while she screams and cries so that we won't be late, perhaps I can take the time to let her watch in the mirror, and giggle, and have a turn brushing my hair. Sure, we won't get where we were supposed to be on time, but we will enjoy the time we have together.

When I look down and see myself white-knuckling it through my daily tasks, I want to be able to loosen my grip. I have to make a conscious choice to put a better song on the radio than the one that is playing in my head, about how I'm late, or not doing it right, or how it's too hard. I want to look up for a moment and see the light coming through the trees. I want to pay more attention to the look on my children's faces when they hit the pool, so that I don't wipe it away barking tense orders about sunscreen and shoes and towels. My daily life is a beautiful and wonderful gift, and somehow I have turned it into one trauma after another, one more day I need to survive and get through.

When I stepped outside during the week of my brother's trial, and chose to shift my focus from the circumstances of the present to the creation around me, it was undeniable the supernatural peace I found in those moments. That I was ever able to close my eyes and find rest was only because of God's mercy and a choice to seek it.  I want to push myself to find that always. To trust the Lord and hand my insignificant daily problems to him. To stop trying to take back control. To realize that my tight-fisted grip is empty--I cannot hold anything in my life that way.

Just like learning to drive, it's going to take practice. I'm sure I will need a lot of reminders. I have to shift my focus from the traffic jams and the clock and the road blocks to the moments that really matter. Putting on those same old hymns and knowing that it is well with my soul would be a start. Taking a deep breath and really looking into the faces gathered around the table with me might help. Stepping outside more, pausing to notice the goodness in creation all around me could feed my soul a little bit. If those moments of pause made it any easier to get through the truly challenging mountains climbed in the past year, surely they will make the little, tiny hills I'm trucking up each day a much more pleasant hike.

Some days, the mountains will rise up in front of me. Some days, I may feel like the earth is tumbling into the sea. But even then, God calls me to be still and know that He is the one who is actually in control. If I can survive those intensely challenging moments, faced with all that is broken around me, by taking a deep breath and resting in his presence, surely the same will help me through the best days. I'm ready to stop white-knuckling life and start choosing to embrace peace.