I’M IN MY AVOIDANCE ERA

And It Isn't Pretty

“What are you doing for Mother’s Day?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised so many people asked me this, with a hint of concern. It was a double whammy of a holiday for me this year. The first May without my mom and the first time I’ve ever been a mom-to-be. I imagine most of my friends thought I’d be an emotional wreck, spending the day sobbing and/or honoring my mother’s unparalleled impact on my life. I did neither. Instead, I spent my Sunday working—prepping a podcast, seeing a client and desperately trying to hit my word count for my next novel. I couldn’t ignore that it was Mother’s Day given people’s thoughtful checking in. But I didn’t have the desire to engage with my emotions around it. And not just because I had gotten my lashes done the day before and wasn’t allowed to cry. Although that was a good excuse.

This refusal to peak under the curtain of my defense mechanisms has become a habit lately. Since my mother got sick last August, I have had to battle so many negative emotions. Wave after wave of horrible moments crashed down on me, barely allowing enough time to gasp for air before being dragged back down by some other new experience of loss or anger. It was exhausting and raw and real. And at a certain point a few weeks ago, I decided to opt out of the storm and climb aboard an insulated submarine that kept me safe but didn’t have any windows.

It feels embarrassing as someone in the mental health field to admit that I have been avoiding my feelings. It’s like a heart surgeon confessing to a secret diet of bacon, steak and French fries. Or a dermatologist professing they have never applied sunscreen. The entire therapeutic model is built around dismantling avoidance and here I am indulging it. Simply because I don’t want to feel bad anymore? I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed!

I received a message the other day from someone also struggling with the loss of a parent and they said they hoped they could be as strong as me one day. What are they talking about, I thought. I haven’t been strong at all. I’m not interested in sitting with my feelings. I’m letting memories of my mom slip away rather than taking the time to nurture them. I’m building a new life without bringing her along in the way I’d promised so I can evade discomfort. I am, in many ways, indulging my least evolved self while simultaneously posting the obligatory Instagram photos on the right days to make it seem like I’m not. If I had the energy, I would be pretty disappointed with myself right about now. But that would require engaging with the bad and we’ve already established I’m not interested in doing that.

Maybe this perception of me as strong is a holdover from how I behaved earlier in this process when I more successfully rejected my worst instincts. While my mom was dying, I often wanted to run away from caring for her and go watch TV. In those dark times, my deepest desire wasn’t to show up, it was to decompress on a couch. But I managed to push through anyway because my mom needed me. And I knew I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I’d given in to my craving for avoidance while she was still alive. Now that she is gone, though, the only person my avoidance hurts is some nebulous version of my future self and that is entirely less motivating. Why should I sacrifice so much for her? I don’t even know her!

The other component to all of this is that when you allow yourself to feel deeply you have a harder time picking and choosing what you care about. I suspect that if I was suffering this loss during a time of greater prosperity it might not be so hard for me to hold. But the current world is a nightmare if you allow yourself to pay attention. The images from the ongoing genocide in Gaza are too horrifying to describe and every day there is a new update regarding the Trump administration’s determination to bring targeted harm across the globe. Are we all going to die in an AI fueled, nuclear shoot out soon? Kind of unclear if I’m being objective about the way things are going. Shutting myself off from all of it, including the distress of so many in my own city of Los Angeles, is a hugely appealing—albeit cowardly—option. I don’t think I have the current capacity to hold onto both pain and hope in the way one needs to to live fully in this reality. So, I’m squeezing my metaphorical eyes shut instead, which doesn’t keep all the light out but certainly obscures the worst of it.

I think a lot about one’s capacity in my coaching work. What do you have to give today? What are you hoping to be able to give tomorrow? This framework is what allows me to not give up on myself completely because I know our capacities can change with time and circumstance. Right now, I am pregnant, overworked and on a looming book deadline. While avoidance isn’t ideal, it does exist for a reason and often serves a purpose. It’s possible I need this vacation from grief to survive these next few months. That shutting down in this moment isn’t a free pass to shut down forever but more of a “closed for maintenance” situation. Once I turn my book in and have more time for myself, I can then spend that time finding a new therapist, returning to my grief and properly processing what it will be like to become a mom without my mom. I will also try to find a way to not ignore the horror of 2025 without letting it consume and destroy me. (A balancing act so many of us are trying to navigate.)

This avoidance era is real, but I am determined that it will also be brief. I suspect that even if I didn’t have a timeline for reengaging with my grief it would reengage for me. That’s why avoidance as a long-term strategy isn’t a successful one. You can only shut off for so long before your pipes burst.

xoxo,

Allison

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