Some people have an Elephant in the Room. It sits properly on the couch. Back feet mannerly on the floor. It thoughtfully takes in the décor with interest.
Oh, how quaint, it notes.
It sips its tea and calmly waits for its host to engage in conversation. In the meantime, the elephant-sized coffee table book on English gardens will do quite nicely. The elephant reaches over to pick it up and flips quietly through the delightful photographs.
That’s not been my Elephant in the Room experience.
You?
How did I get here?
She no longer fits in any of her good clothes. She doesn’t like them anyway. She hurts. She has forgotten what joy feels like. She’s given up on being a good mother… a semi-decent wife. She no longer performs at work like she should - and if she doesn’t shape up, she will run her business into the ground.
She is tired and pained and lost and weak and stuck and she finally dares a look at the bloated, tear-streaked face in the bathroom mirror…
She has no idea who that person reflected back is.
She splashes water on the stranger in the mirror. If she can avoid eye contact with her husband and son in the next room, she might spare them taking on the sorrow she feels. She opens the bathroom door…
… and there it is…
… the struggles of so many sleepless nights, the embodiment of torture, the reason for the uneasy feeling in every aspect of her life…
In the hallway facing her is an elephant.
A real, honest-to-goodness elephant.
It’s a mammoth.
Wedged between the narrow walls, its head consumes her field of vision. The rotting humidity of its shallow exhalation coats her skin. Its labored inhale steals the oxygen meant for her. Now she’s hyper-ventilating.
No, she’s suffocating.
The elephant has been stuck there for such a long time. If only she would have turned to face it ages ago, she might have seen it needed help; but now it is too late, and the elephant is unable to leave. It has suffered this unintentional imprisonment with a heaviness of spirit.
Now she sees it, and it is impossible to ignore. Even if she closes her eyes, she can hear it and feel it and smell it.
She casts another entangling mess of complaints about herself, and those negative thoughts act like conduits for a dark magic to move through her... commanding the Elephant in the Room to expand. Its flesh pulses and heaves as it grows, morphing higher and wider. It moans in agony from the increasing burden of additional poundage. Its oppressive construction pushes outward on the walls, crushes the glass on the family picture frames, shoves the light fixture up through the ceiling and breaks through to the second story. The floor beneath them buckles, and to keep herself from getting crushed she backs up into a corner with neither door nor window.
If sadness could kill, the elephant’s eyes would send her to the grave.
There’s no escape.
The inevitable is about to happen: her demise. All she can do is what she’s done for so long…
She covers her eyes and anticipates the end.
Have you been sensing the end coming, too?
Or perhaps that there’s not enough time to do all the things?
Or that you lack the stamina to follow through with what you know you ought to do?
Maybe you have a love/hate relationship with falling off the wagon – or going off the rails – or backsliding down whatever slippery metaphor upon which you happen to find yourself? If only you could find the time to do all the right things before it’s too late - build up the stamina to follow through with a plan - figure out how to stay on the damn wagon - things would be better…
We shouldn’t have to live in a constant state of fear of our life’s destruction, but it’s hard not to be frightened when these figurative Elephants in the Room seem to represent our every failure. Not knowing what lies on the other side of change is what causes us to downright freeze, and then shame and embarrassment grow with every “I ought to be” thought.
I ought to be making a plan.
I ought to get help.
I ought to do something more.
I ought to be better by now.
This Elephant in the Room didn’t get to be this oppressive overnight. Would you like permission to take as much time as you need to address it?
Allowing yourself permission to take as much time as you need to size-up this houseguest is exactly what my book Facing the Elephant is about. I am going to assume that you are also not one-hundred percent ready yet to start dealing with your figurative pachyderm party crashers. I mean, this is not the lightest task on most peoples’ to-do lists. It can feel like preparing for war.
What I will suggest in Facing the Elephant is a much less conventional concept than waging a battle (substitute battle with plan or program or prescription) and it will be a lot more practical, because you’ll be able to do it even if you’re tired… Especially because you are tired!
The first step so many people miss when making a life change of this magnitude is actually a pause. Rather than the “rip the Band-aid off” or “leap before you look” approach which tends to lead to burn-out quickly, this thoughtful pause will give you stamina for the long-haul. Instead of draining you, Facing the Elephant will help you to remember how you define your strengths, not your weaknesses.
If you feel lost or without hope right now, it may be because you’ve forgotten that the unique skills you possess to get out of your pickle, jam, or back in the wagon are not far out of reach. In fact, they are a natural part of you – not something you have to forge from scratch. That negative “ought to” voice has been bombarding your thought processes with falsehoods, distracting you from remembering this truth. Facing Your Elephant is a lot less depressing than that voice wants you to believe. My job will be to show you that it can be the empowering boost you really need right about now - and elephants make the best Teacher's Pet!
I mean, what's not to love about elephants? They're majestic, powerful and intelligent evolutionary marvels! And pretty fly break dancers, too!
You've probably never heard anyone say: "Gee, elephants are okay and all, but too bad they weren't more beautiful." Or, "It's a pity that elephants are so dumb and can't do much."
Nope, those aren't statements we hear often, if ever. And rightly so, because real elephants are truly works of art.
... So is the Statue of Liberty, but we wouldn't bring it into our living space. We couldn't. It would crush our home flat. An elephant might technically fit inside it, but we certainly would have no extra room to move or breathe.
If you’re feeling like you’re backed into a corner like the woman in the story I shared up above, consider joining me to discover how you can awaken your inner strength. As we approach the 2023 release date of Facing the Elephant (and its subsequent sequels Healing the Elephant and Riding the Elephant), I’ll be sharing some of the tools I’ve developed to do just that.
How do I know it can work? Because the woman in the story I shared with you was me; and despite the hell I found myself in, I now have a much more peaceful coexistence with my Elephant in the Room.
Stay tuned for some highlights, updates, and free workbook excerpts and online course offerings in the months to come!
You can also follow me on Facebook at @superhorsepress and on Instagram at @hartt-ascending. Join my e-newsletter for even more goodies and insights!
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