Confusion is one of the easiest ways our subconscious can get us to stop.
It can be rooted in real and valid trauma, of course.
I’m not saying that when we feel it, there’s no confusion at all. It’s that instead of feeling confused and then taking actions that help us figure things out, we get overwhelmed and spun out.
Our subconscious latches on and finds a way to tie it to our core wound. “I’m not smart enough, capable enough, good enough.” Or, “I knew I was too broken and damaged to make anything happen.” And even, “I don’t understand, so it must not be possible, or it must not be for me.”
And once our core wound story gets in the mix, we’re no longer able to activate around gathering the information we need. Our nervous system and brain short circuit, and we give up before we’ve even really begun.
After two very traumatic relationships, I was deeply confused about what being with someone meant and why I’d ever do it again.
I simply couldn’t understand what relationships were and what other people were doing anymore. But I asked a lot of questions (of literally everyone I could, even my Uber drivers), read probably hundreds of articles, worked with coaches and therapists, and experimented for myself. I pulled myself through the sludge of confusion slowly but surely because I wanted to understand things that trauma made feel impossible.
It took a few long years, and I never thought I’d be where I am today, so clear and certain about what I want and what it means to me. But I am. I made it to the other side because I was endlessly persistent.
Welcome your confusion when and how it shows up, but notice your story.
Notice the lie that begins to spin and overwhelm you, keeping you from even really trying to understand fully, and see if you can set it aside and move into curiosity.
And keep trying, even when it makes no sense. Keep searching, even when you find no answers. Keep putting all your energy toward understanding, even when it takes longer than you’d like.
You’ll get to the other side.