Several years ago, my marriage came to an end. We had been together for 25 years, most of my adult life. On top of all the unpleasant practical matters that you have to deal with during a divorce (custody, money, property, divvying up mementos), I faced a storm of challenging emotions. Indignation and anger were the faces I wore to the outside world (the frustration, fear, and self-righteousness I kept better hidden). These feelings would arise and fall away like the weather, sometimes in great gusts, other times sticking around for days on end, and in patterns I could rarely predict. Yet there was always a steady undercurrent of sadness—over the loss of the dreams for that marriage, and simply for the fact that I had wished, deeply wished, for something else.
My experience and heartache are not unique, and not unique to going through a divorce. Part of being human is to know the weight of sadness. Fleeting or persistent, sharp or dull, threatening to overwhelm or lingering in the background, sadness touches us all:
A loss of love or friendship and the disorienting experience of the landscape shifting beyond your control.
Dropping your child off at daycare for the first time, and the accompanying guilt and realization of time passing far too quickly.
The flimsy pile of greens on your plate making you wonder if you really have what it takes to lose the weight.
A stalled car that strains your finances; one more thing to worry about.
The dirty laundry at the foot of the bed punctuating the loneliness of being single.
When an awareness of the pain and suffering of other beings suddenly strikes you with full force.
At its core, we can say sadness is the emotion that arises when we realize the unfortunate truths of being alive: we lose things, people are flawed, sometimes life is hard, and, eventually, everything ends. And when sadness arrives, we must come to the inevitable conclusion that, “Right now, it’s like this.”
I should caution that here we are talking about sad mood and not the unrelenting and persisting disorder of clinical depression. If you experience these feelings consistently over a number of days, notice that you lack energy, have sleep, appetite, or cognitive problems as a result, then you may be suffering from depression and should seek appropriate mental health treatment.
Inescapable though sadness may be, our crafty human brains like to find a way to Houdini out of its bonds, to triumphantly break free. We distract, we avoid, we play the blues to share the common humanity of sadness. We stop ourselves abruptly from crying and too quickly wipe away tears. But what are we resisting, really?
The practice of mindfulness is about being present to every moment, not just the ones that are pleasant or neutral. In fact, going into the darker, more uncomfortable places—the ones we usually try to avoid—may yield powerful insights, and may sharpen our mindfulness and deepen our compassion, both toward ourselves and others.
If truth and insight lives within sadness (the same way they live within joy, satisfaction, and wonder), what would it be like to simply contemplate this truth—to consider meeting yourself in the midst of melancholy and to see what may be there to be learned or discovered? The practice of mindfulness is about being present to every moment, not just the ones that are pleasant or neutral. In fact, going into the darker, more uncomfortable places—the ones we usually try to avoid—may yield powerful insights, and may sharpen our mindfulness and deepen our compassion, both toward ourselves and others. Maybe we could let sadness be our companion long enough to hear what it really has to say.
It Just Is
Loss, disappointment, change—these things that invoke sadness are usually beyond our control. It’s just the way the world works. No matter how hard we may try to steel ourselves, they still happen. And just as certainly we feel sad. We’re sad because our desire was for things, whatever they are, to be otherwise. Because people, moments, even numbers on a scale, matter to us. Because we cared, we hoped, maybe we even dared to dream.
Sometimes the roots of sadness are found in shame, which can begin a destructive spiral. When something goes badly, it’s easy to forget the inevitability of change. But if we’re unable to put our experience into some perspective, it’s possible for sadness to run amok. “I don’t like this feeling” becomes “I don’t want this feeling” becomes “I shouldn’t have this feeling” becomes “There’s something wrong with me because I have this feeling” becomes “I’m bad.”
When we live in that distorted world of shame—“I am uniquely bad and flawed and therefore unlovable”—sadness can lead us to isolation, rumination, and depression. So, making the sadness about how uniquely bad we are is not a helpful way to go about things. We are wallowing in sadness, making an occupation out of it.
At the other end of the spectrum, we can deny sadness. “Get over it,” we’re quick to tell ourselves. “Suck it up, buttercup.” It’s no big deal. I didn’t really care that much anyway. The thing is, though, we know that what we resist, persists. Ever tried to NOT worry? How did that work out? It’s possible to bypass our painful feelings, to erect a semi-permanent roadway that goes around, or tunnels under, or rises over, the bad stuff. But this only creates a superficial calm and composure, with a volcanic ulcer developing underneath. Someday it will give way.
When it comes to sadness, as with any emotion that makes us uncomfortable, feel vulnerable, or otherwise imposes itself in our days and lives without our permission, there’s a middle way: Letting go of resistance, and without wallowing and indulging in it, simply acknowledging the truth of the situation:
I tried and it still didn’t work. It happened and it hurts. I’m disappointed. I’m scared. I’m lonely.
During my divorce, I discovered that when I approached my sadness with tenderness, it actually helped keep me focused. I felt calmer as a result. Sadness was powerfully helpful and effective in fact, when I let it be there, with less fighting. Sadness was what tempered my anger when I wanted to lash out, to say the hurtful thing or take the action that I couldn’t take back. When I could take moments to truly admit that sadness was present for me, it allowed me a pathway back to myself; to the person I truly am and know myself to be: A man who simply wishes to be happy and free from suffering.