My wife and I bought a home a few months back, and it fits us well. In one of the rooms, an addition, there is a dry discolored stain up in the corner in the ceiling, which I overlooked during the frenzy of the house shopping activities and then was fine with accepting at the purchasing time.
A few days ago, I was in this room during a heavy rainstorm, and that's when I heard the "tick, tick, tick" of water droplet sounds in that area. It didn't last long, but it sure did unearth some unease in me. I had visions of major damage and disruption in the house if I were going to have to get people to come in and fix the issue, not to mention the financial cost and the possible angst of having to have a conversation with my wife around what to do.
And that's when it showed up.
That's when avoidance showed up.
Avoidance. Give it a voice and it would be a low, soothing one. It would find something that would be a ready distraction and gently say, "oh, just do this. It'll be better." It'll persuade: "It's fine. Why bother with all the difficulty?" And it'll bring it home with the clincher: "You can just take care of it later."
Avoidance keeps its eye on your wants and your hopes. I can see this show up most in desiring connections with others, with starting a relationship or deepening one, and especially when having to repair one. Avoidance wants you to settle back into comfort. Maybe settle into something that has a guarantee, something that is the familiar. In other words, don't reach out.
Don't go forward with connections. You won't then stir up the scratchy sides that reside within, meaning the possibility of disappointment or anger or guilt or rejection. Avoidance will just say, "it's better to move on. After all, you keep control."
Now, this avoidant response can be a means of adaptation to harsh circumstances from a painful past. So let's be kind to that avoidant side.
But avoidance can also become habitual. And I'm learning that it can become a hindrance and drown the potential to live more fully, to live with more engagement. I'm learning to recognize my capacity to avoid, to stay safe,
to hear its siren song away from the darker feelings. And I'm learning to accept the messiness inside so that I can be more participatory on the outside, more honest. That's the payoff is those deeper connections.
And by the way, in the case of my ceiling, I'm engaging in a messy conversation, but it surely will prevent a disaster later.
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