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When you face a crisis, you know who your true friends are.” Magic Johnson
“Faced with a crisis, the man of character falls back on himself. He imposes his own stamp of action, takes responsibility for it, makes it his own. Charles de Gaulle
There aren’t many certainties in life, but you can take this one to the bank: At some point, you will be faced with a crisis. What will it be? Who knows. When will it happen? Maybe later today, maybe in 20 years. But at some point, we all receive news that will bring us to our knees. And we will feel powerless. Blindsided. Out of control. Alone.
Most people, I’ve come to realize, have very definite ideas about how they will respond to a crisis when it occurs. But when crisis arrives at our door, we rarely (if ever) respond the way we thought we would.
We see others in crisis and imagine what we would do in their shoes, believing (falsely) that this in some way prepares us for our own day of reckoning. We are sure we would face a crisis situation bravely, squarely, strongly. We are quick to offer advice, much of it simplistic and formulaic. We dutifully take to heart–and share on Facebook–articles like “What Happy People Know” or “The Benefits of Optimism”. But when our own crisis strikes, those articles feel like hollow and empty advice, usually dispensed (or “shared” as the case may be) by people who haven’t yet had to weather a true crisis of their own. In real life, situations are nuanced and layered. People are complex. Large chasms exist between what we want and what we might have to endure to get there.
When a crisis occurs, it is a frightening, isolating experience. We may withdraw from friends and family. We long for someone who will truly explore the nuances of the subject and support us in this terrible hour of need. We instinctively know who we can trust and who we need to stay clear of. Who will judge us–or even take some secret delight in our pain–and who will not.
A complex situation usually requires difficult choices. Oftentimes, and perhaps this fact partially defines a crisis, none of the options are appealing, just varying degrees of awful. Crises require us to go down paths that include risk, consequences, fear and pain–and without a guaranteed outcome. Which brings us to another defining feature of a crisis: The sheer complexity and interconnectedness of details means that any given course of action has a ripple effect in other areas of our life (or someone else’s life), making any decision or chosen path a highly personal choice. Even well-meaning friends and advisors can’t help us because they don’t know the variables, don’t share all our values, don’t know all the nuances and aren’t ultimately the ones who will have to live with the outcome–however good or bad it may be.
One of the most challenging–and not immediately apparent–aspects of weathering a crisis is managing the input and judgment of other people. Part of being an adult is thinking for yourself, accepting full responsibility for the choices you make. And this means keeping your own counsel, even–and especially–in situations where everyone has an opinion.
Recent events in the Anthony Weiner scandal underscore the point. Pundits are quick to criticize Weiner’s wife, Huma Abedin, for “standing by her man”, most of them claiming that if they were in her shoes, they would leave him. Maybe, but then again, maybe not. Either way, Huma is now dealing with two tremendously difficult and painful problems: Her husband’s proclivity for sending explicit photographs and sexually-charged messages to multiple women; and a very public pummeling, largely from other women, who self-righteously judge her as being weak and naïve for staying in the marriage. Will all these pundits advising Huma to leave her husband be there when she is dealing with life as a single parent? Will they be there to help her through the emotional rollercoaster of divorce and the breakup of her family? We might think we’d kick our husband to the curb under such circumstances, but we aren’t the ones facing the decision–a fact for which we can all be thankful, since it’s undoubtedly a horrible and painful experience for both Weiner and Aberdin.
Before we get too sanctimonious, though, we should know that our day will come. We will be the ones who others are judging and opining about. We will face agonizing decisions with no clear-cut answers. And when we do, we will step into a different phase of adulthood. We will fully understand–and not just in an abstract way–that situations, motivations and people are incredibly complicated. We will be less judgmental of others and more gentle with ourselves. We’ll acquire wisdom and get a crash course in humility.
Whatever form our personal crisis might take, the lessons are the same: A crisis forces us to reevaluate what we thought we knew. It challenges our life strategy up to this point. We are forced to grow our repertoire of emotional tools and to expand our world view to encompass a reality we didn’t choose and don’t want. Perhaps most importantly, in the aftermath, we’ll find it easier to walk our own path–with all the rewards and hardships that entails–without the input of others.
And just as importantly, we’ll be less inclined to smugly judge the choices of others.