maybe if i stop trying to understand, i finally can
a control freak, a hopeless romantic, and an overthinker walk into a bar
My mother—God bless her for listening to me yap about everything and nothing for the past 26 years—tells me that there are some things in life I’m not meant to understand. We could be talking about Noah’s Ark or a romantic dumpster fire or the sheer amount of plates she possesses. Regardless of the topic, we’ve been here before.
“But...whyyy?” I retort almost instantly.
The agony in my voice is palpable, as is the acute awareness that I sound like a whiny toddler whose mom isn’t getting them the candy bar they want at the store, even after they’ve had two helpings of ice cream. Chocolate milk in hand.
Her answer?
“Because.”
Classic parent response. No BS. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Just “because.” Period. A nightmare for a girl like me.
When she says this, I can’t help but become even more desperate for understanding. I am supremely unsatisfied with an answer that doesn’t make sense because there has to be more than just “because” and we both know it. In my mind, everything should be able to be explained neatly and easily. At least somewhat easily.
I tell her I can handle what comes after “because” and that it’s sweet she thinks I won’t pester her for more. After all, I’m a big girl. Old enough to pay bills and work a stove and go to the post office alone and accept the cold, harsh truth of things. I tell her this and she smiles at me softly. Knowingly.
Then again, in the process of trying to understand something that my brain can’t fully get a grasp on, the theories never seem to end. The reasoning for that thing that they did or the way they said that can be a combination of many factors—or none at all. It could be both/and or just the ‘and.’ Either way, I have to admit that the expense of my energy and thoughts always leads to the same disappointing dead end, which is: I’m scared I’ll never know why. The real ‘why.’ The ‘why’ that never wavers, the ‘why’ that lies at the root of it all, the ‘why’ I can count on and relay to friends as the one-and-done narrative.
If I can’t understand why, then I don’t have a concrete statement of solace to refer back to. Instead, an emotional free-for-all ensues without the bounds of a hard stop reminder of the truth to bring me back to earth.
As a self-proclaimed (and friend-proclaimed) control freak (but in a cute way), the absence of concrete reasons for things I don’t understand is enough to send me into a full-blown spiral. I hate not knowing. The idea that I could be cleared of the infinite questions my mind doles out on the daily just by thinking my way to an answer is enticing. Because if I think about it long and hard, if I talk it to a pulp for enough time, then maybe my efforts will be worth it. Maybe one day, I’ll reach that “aha moment” where everything simultaneously clicks and silences any further questions I may have from that moment forward. Absolves all emotions that may defy The One, True Explanation. In other words, maybe understanding will prevent the pain.
I’d plan to tell myself to refer back to that explanation any time I felt something that contradicted it. Emotions that strayed in any way from the ones I thought I should feel based on my findings would obviously cease to exist. Because how could they?
what this would hypothetically look like:
Why would I still be affected over something I decided has happened for me and not to me? Impossible!
How could I miss the life that was tainted by the realization that it was all probably a sham? That’s silly.
If my understanding is X, then feeling any way that doesn’t align with X doesn’t make sense. And the simple fact that it doesn’t make sense should rid me of these feelings. Cancel ‘em out!
Trying to understand that which is not understandable is a puzzle I don’t necessarily want to solve but feel like I have to. Perhaps it’s an illusion that I believe that once I have the answer, I can cleanly tuck it all away and never think about it again as long as I’ve solved the complexities of what happened and why. Give the whole affair a pithy sign-off and call it a day. Automatically label anyone that hurts me as an asshole because anyhow, who would be upset over an asshole?
Or maybe my mother was…right?
Maybe there are just some things in life we’re not meant to understand. Maybe the imaginary peace I feel I might find if I keep thinking, keep theorizing, keep digging into the folds of my past, is all but a pipe dream I’m trying to lean on rather than surrendering to the notion that I can’t know everything and never could. Maybe people shouldn’t be seen as puzzles and we shouldn’t have to sit down and analyze them in order to come to an understanding about their character, especially when the damage has already been done. Who they are should be pretty clear, which goes for the good and the bad.
I’ve never been a math person but I think I understand them. The thrill they must get as they near the answer to their equation. Eureka. A set amount of time spent working through a problem that seems near-impossible to solve but eventually hitting the center and properly filing it away as an accomplishment. It’s what I set out to do when I ruminate and wonder and play out the past in my head, hoping for a hint that will satiate my need to know.
And then what if I did know? What if I could have it all figured out, no boxes left unchecked? Would it change what I feel? Would it quiet the pit in my stomach that continues to pulse because even I know deep down that thinking I understand why something happened won’t actually change things?
in regards to matters of the heart and not ones related to noah’s ark, for example:
There isn’t a line of questioning, an amount of epiphanies that could alter what is. Actually, it’s a gift that we give to ourselves to cease the need to hold on tight. To release. To trust in God, the universe, whoever is out there, that maybe we’re not ever meant to know the full scope because it has nothing to do with us. And that even if we can’t understand people completely and why they do what they do, their actions alone can give us the clarity we need to step forward and into the next version of ourselves.
We won’t understand, probably ever, and to accept that is to unburden ourselves of the immense pressure that threatens to evict any optimistic thoughts from our mind about the future. We’re going to feel and sometimes it’s going to hurt. That’s it. We feel what we feel and in a way, there’s a sweetness in that. In knowing that at the end of the day, we are simple creatures who love other simple creatures and even if they turn out to be complicated—as we all actually are—knowing that we had the capacity to love well can be solace enough regardless of all the things we’ll never fully get. To accept our side of things that we know to be true and relinquish the rest is a choice we make. And so we must make it.
With love,
em <3