Do not mistake acceptance for this

“It’s okay.”

Sounds innocuous, doesn’t it?

How often do you say something is “okay”, “alright”, “no worries” - when, if you take the time to pause and think about it, it really isn’t?

I used to rush to say “it’s okay.” Part of it was because I didn’t want to “make a big deal” or “get into it.” Essentially what I was avoiding was an actual conversation about the problem. It felt too uncomfortable. Too awkward.

It felt like if I made the other person uncomfortable, then I would be the bad guy.

So I’d swallow whatever was coming up – be it annoyance, anger, confusion - and tell myself it’s okay, it’s in the past, I’ve accepted it.

But I hadn’t. I had just resigned to it.

Resignation seems easier at the beginning. It’s why it’s such an easy pattern to repeat. It’s why phrases like “it’s okay” become so habitual we no longer have to even think about it before we answer.

But every time we say something to keep the peace, it’s another strike against ourselves. Not only are we not advocating for ourselves, we are actively rejecting the parts of ourselves that wish to be seen. That wish to be cared for.

This then continues the story that somebody else’s feelings, needs and desires are more important than our own. That there’s shame in our needs. In having to need at all.

But just because we ignore it, doesn’t make it go away. Unaddressed and unmet needs are the fertile soil for the seeds of resentment. Every time we silence ourselves, another seed is planted.

This is how, over time, it gets harder and harder to see the other person, and for them to see us. There is a jungle of resentment, misunderstanding, and words caught in the throat, flourishing between us.

How do we start to hack away at these overgrown vines of mini-betrayals that have wrapped themselves over and over again around everything it sees, constricting and binding us the more we refuse to speak up?

There is no fast track to acceptance. Like anything else, it requires a pause. A willingness of self-inquiry: What about this is important? What am I making this mean?

Self-inquiry is not self-importance. It’s the first step back to self-compassion. And very often, our first step away from self-rejection.

Self-rejection began the first time we adjusted ourselves to not upset the adult. Am I okay now? Is this acceptable now? Can you love me, now?

It then extends into our other relationships - personal, professional or otherwise.

It fuels the chase for “never enough.”

We stop looking for validation when we can stand on our own side. And at the heart of it, that is what acceptance is.

To acknowledge that while the past may have shaped our current behaviors, it doesn’t have to stay that way.

Resignation is self-rejection. It’s fear of disappointment. It’s saying, I don’t want to try again, just to be rejected again.

Acceptance is love. It’s courage to choose something different, rather than subjecting ourselves to the same ending because we’ve told ourselves things will never change.

Change is not outside of you. Neither is acceptance. Acceptance is not saying what is happening is okay. It’s saying how we feel about it is.

It’s choosing not to guilt ourselves for having an emotion about it. It’s choosing to not stay in shame and silence. It’s choosing to move toward those who not only accept us, but inspire us. And to move away from those who reject, invalidate, and keep us feeling stuck.

What is it about acceptance that feels so hard? I think for a lot of us, it’s finally relinquishing control. Finally letting go of the ball, thinking it will break, but instead it just bounces off in a direction not of our choosing. We watch it roll away and then it’s not ours to hold anymore. Our hands are free - to do as we wish. And that is the scary part. What to do now with all this freedom? When we’re used to holding everything for everyone else, what do we do now that we can choose something different? Do we trust ourselves to choose correctly? What if we don’t?

Then choose again. That’s the thing with freedom: you can choose again and again, until it feels “right.”

So that next time you say, “It’s okay,” it really is.