What Comes After the Uncomfortable Part?

Recently, I was leading a group for a local drug court. We were working toward something that can be surprisingly difficult when you're rebuilding your life: dreaming about the future.

But before we could really talk about what people wanted their lives to look like, we had to talk about the things that made those possibilities feel out of reach.

One participant shared a very real worry about having a felony on their record. Even if they were eventually eligible for expungement, they worried that it could still show up on some background checks.

What happens when an employer asks about it?

What about an eviction you have to explain to a future landlord?

What do you say about the gaps in your work history?

These weren't excuses. They were uncomfortable realities.

And I didn't want to tell them those things wouldn't matter, because sometimes they will.

Instead, I asked the group a question.

"Where do you think is the most unlikely place you would find a felon?"

They started thinking about it.

Then I told them: the White House.

That got their attention.

The current president has a felony conviction.

I wasn't bringing politics into the room to debate politics. I wanted them to challenge an assumption.

So I asked another question:

"If someone with a felony conviction can become president of the United States, have you stopped to think about what you might still be able to do?"

The point wasn't that a felony doesn't create barriers.

It can.

The point was that we sometimes decide what the barrier means before we ever get to it.

We imagine the background check, the interview, the housing application or the uncomfortable question—and then build our lives around avoiding that moment.

But what if instead of asking, "How do I make sure I never have to face this?" we asked, "What skills do I need so that I'm prepared when I do?"

That's where coping skills become incredibly practical.

If I know someone may ask about the gap in my employment history, I can practice my response.

If I know talking about my conviction makes me anxious, I can decide ahead of time how I will ground myself before an interview.

If I'm applying for housing after an eviction, I can gather documentation, practice explaining what happened and identify someone I can call afterward if the conversation doesn't go the way I hoped.

If rejection is something I struggle with, I can make a plan for rejection before I ever submit the application.

Coping doesn't mean pretending the uncomfortable situation isn't coming.

Sometimes coping means deciding what you're going to do when it gets here.

And while I was having this conversation with the group, I was thinking about something I have come to understand through my own recovery.

This Recovery Month, I have 22 years.

For so many of the beginning years, I remember feeling like I was a completely different person every year.

I couldn't have told you who I would be 22 years later.

I couldn't see this entire journey.

I didn't need to.

I needed to deal with what was directly in front of me.

That's one of the things I love about people who have fought for their recovery.

There is a particular kind of confidence that can develop when you've had to learn how to take the next step without knowing exactly where the entire road leads.

Not confidence that says:

"Nothing bad is going to happen."

Not even:

"I know this is going to work."

It's something closer to:

"I've handled the step in front of me before. I can figure out what to do with this one."

And that is what I wanted the people sitting in that room to recognize about themselves.

They didn't need to know how they would handle every background check for the rest of their lives.

We could prepare for the next one.

They didn't have to solve every possible housing barrier.

We could talk about how to approach the next application.

They didn't have to know what their careers would look like ten years from now.

They could decide what opportunity they were willing to pursue next.

And maybe that's where dreaming and coping skills meet.

Dreaming gives us something on the other side of the uncomfortable thing that is worth reaching for.

Coping skills help us get through the uncomfortable thing when we reach it.

Recovery has taught me that we don't always need to see the whole journey.

Sometimes we just need to stop letting the possibility of an uncomfortable moment convince us not to take the next step.