Seven years ago, I spent Valentine’s Day in a psych ward with postpartum psychosis. As I sat on a hard plastic chair against the psych hospital’s cinderblock wall, one of the other patients approached and said “Happy Valentine’s Day” as he handed me a piece of paper. On it, was a drawing of a flower he’d made with crayons.
At least, I think that’s what happened.
I’ve been hard at work on my memoir of that psychosis experience, and I find myself grappling with Truth in ways I never anticipated.
First, there’s the obvious problem of my own unreliable memory of the time. I don’t remember who the patient with the flower drawing was or what he looked like. I don’t remember what I was doing or thinking before he handed it to me. I’m pretty sure this exchange happened and wasn’t part of some delusion or fever dream, but….?
But, the Truth that is most elusive and most difficult, is my own understanding of myself.
Like most of us, I have always wanted to be the hero of my own story—to be likable, wise, innocent, to be the center of all the action.
But as I work to tell this story, the more I have to contend my own limited understanding and my self-centered desires and motives, both then and now. What is the image I’m trying to paint of myself? Why? What and whom am I emphasizing or leaving out?
I don’t know if the other patient meant for this to be a kind gesture, a romantic advance, or some other motive, borne of mental illness. I don't remember my reaction or what I thought about him at the time. I don't know what other people in the room thought of this exchange. I don't quite know what to think of it all now.
While writing, I often find myself in what writer George Saunders has called “holy befuddlement,” that experience where you’re sure you believe one thing, but the deeper you dig, the more you find yourself utterly confused.
But, as Saunders suggests, such confusion isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this befuddlement is "holy" specifically because it makes space for humility, compassion, empathy, for the possibility that our own sure-footed vision of the world isn't the only one—and maybe isn't even accurate.
Perhaps, for all of us, befuddled is the only True way to be.
When do you find yourself in Holy Befuddlement? What does it feel like to you? Share your answer in Mother Den.
Danielle LaSusa Ph.D. is a Philosophical Coach, helping new moms grapple with what it means to make a person. She is the creator of The Meaning of Motherhood course, and co-creator and co-host of Think Hard podcast, which brings fun, accessible, philosophical thinking to the real world. To join her mailing list, subscribe here.
© Copyright Danielle LaSusa PhD, LCC, 2021. All rights reserved.
