Validation

Every time I decide on something, I feel something, I agree with myself about something – I still a need a dose of validation, even if it’s just a friendly nod, a pat on the shoulder, a word of understanding. I seem not to be able to exist in the vacuum of my own thought process, I need to share and find my footing through the act of doing it. It is not valid if not heard by at least another human being, which makes the existence of it irrelevant in the context of solitude. This way it does not matter at all how I feel, until somebody else can glimpse it. And if there isn’t anyone available, after a while, the feelings become unbearable and can lead to the wish of cutting it all off, for good. How is that possible?

Why do we strive to ignite compassion in every passerby, to seek a listening ear in every neighbor, to spill to strangers – for that one moment of recognition, that light in their eyes that tells us they got it? They feel the way we feel? They’ve been where we’ve been? They promise that on a deep emotional level, they connect with us they way a tree connects to earth – solidly, penetrating to the core? Why is it that the meaning of our emotions and thoughts holds little value if we can’t show it off, talk about it, analyze it, dissect it, chew it and spit it out, trying to discern the taste and file it in our memory box for later? Validation. Strange concept. It comes perhaps from uncertainly of who we are, of whether what we do is right or wrong, of dying to understand what the hell we are doing with this thing called “life” and is there an answer out there to all our questions about it. We need the “yes, you’re ok” and “don’t worry, it will be fine” and “I know how you feel” and “it will pass, I tell you”. Remove this for an hour, we’d be ok. For a day? Not so good. For a week? This sounds next to impossible. For a month? Not doable except by certain monks in certain monasteries who have practices a certain craft from the very early age – or so we like to think, or so we read in books or seen on TV.

There are those of us who can do this, who are more centered, more sure of their actions, more in tune with their inner world – who do not doubt it every second. And there are those of us who can't, who are holding on for dear life to the swinging pendulum, watching our fingers lose the grip in horror, knowing in the next few seconds we will crash, it will be painful, we will hit the ground with our head and lose the remainder of our happiness, if there was ever any. So we cry "stop!" to the imaginary hand that is spinning us, shaking us, pushing us on the swing - but we forget that there is no hand - it's us who are doing it. But, the inertion takes over. Now we can't stop, now we have to dig our feet deep into dirt, risking breaking them, to come to a halt. To stand up, dizzy, and to attempt to walk - like a toddler, all over again, grabbing grass to stand up, grabbing walls to not fall, raising head up to see where we are going.

As we walk, we look up - we are seaching for approval, for making sure we're making the right steps, in the right direction, with the right attitude. We think we know what we are doing and how we are supposed to do this, but in reality we're never sure - we always look for correction, for the signal of appreciation, for the unconditional understanding - and if we get it, we perk up. We smile till our cheeks hurt. We're ready to dig dirt and crawl on our bellies - all for that one sign that we are not taken for granted, that we are understood, that we're valid. Validated. Gotten validation from the ones who know, who've been there, who get it. Such is our craving, no matter how hard we try to act strong, independent, non-chalant about issues of self-assurance. We pull on masks, we pretend, but underneath it all we're craving it badly, at all times, and we light up when we get it - even if we don't show it, even if we're acting like nothing important happened. We do want it. Validation. I know I want it - as much as I don't want to admit to it. Every single blog post that I write is about it that - to connect, to feel I am heard and understood, to validate what I am going through - to know that I am not alone. I get it - each time - and each time I write again, I am terrified - I think, what if nobody will get this one? What if this one is so out there, it is only me feeling it?

But I persevere - because I know somebody will. Somebody out there is hungry for the validation as much as I am - and every time I write I take a leap of faith - to believe that I help - and that that somebody will help me - and that we are connected in this quest - even if neither of us knows of another's existence.

Photo by Evil Erin.