Is avoidance always a bad thing?

What does avoidance mean to you? Is it always a bad thing? Is it a cop-out? Does it have any merit? I would argue that avoidance, while appealing in certain situations, is, in most instances, a really bad habit, plain and simple. (Obviously – before anyone challenges me on this – avoidance is not always a negative thing. I am speaking specifically to the avoidance of thoughts and feelings).

In my experience, avoidance is a master shapeshifter. It runs on fear – fear of failure, fear of being exposed, fear of coming clean, fear of being vulnerable. Avoidance keeps us from living our best life – it keeps us from doing things, from being participants in our own lives. And if we protect ourselves at all costs, we fail to see the beauty inherent in our mistakes. Yes, avoidance will prevent failure, but it will also block the growth that mistakes allow us.

There are some underlying conditions – loaded backgrounds if you will – that make negotiating avoidance far more difficult than for the average bear. One is PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. In my experience, PTSD makes me want to avoid situations and triggers that remind me of the trauma I went through. Another condition that makes avoidance just that much more difficult is OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. When I suffered from OCD in my teens and twenties, my thoughts would get stuck in a negative loop, and I would ruminate about things great and small, over and over. I would (and to some extent still do) assiduously avoid situations that spike my already over-primed sense of discomfort and fear, as well as my need for order.

We avoid any number of things in life, but I argue some of the most important things we “like” to avoid are our thoughts and/or feelings. We do an awful lot of avoidance in our day-to-day life – we as a species do not like to endure uncomfortable situations (cue mortification, embarrassment, failure, etc.). The irony is that it is crucial for individuals who, like me, tend to avoid uncomfortable thoughts and feelings to confront instead the stimulus that they are terrified of, to engage instead of avoid.

I argue that the reason avoidance is such a bear to tame is because, in avoidance, we seek to orchestrate our thoughts and feelings. The problem is that our thoughts and feelings are automatic – we can’t tell our minds what thoughts to think or avoid, nor can we tell our hearts what feelings to avoid.

Selectively editing our thoughts and/or feelings simply does not work in the long run – trust me on this one. It might work temporarily, but never in the long run. If you’re going to have a shred of hope for a life where you can coexist with your thoughts and feelings, you need to develop an understanding of them. Thoughts and feelings are inherently messy – hell, life is messy. And though you might not want to hear it, life comes with difficulties and heartbreak.

Avoiding your thoughts and/or feelings only compounds the problem. Years ago, I was hospitalized at The Menninger Clinic in Topeka, KS, for two years. One of the first things they told me was that I could not have a PRN (an “as needed medication,” in this case benzodiazepines) for my overwhelming – and crippling – anxiety unless I could tell them what I was feeling. I often sat cross-legged on my bed, completely unable to access what I was feeling. I could’ve lied, said I was feeling X, Y, or Z, but I somehow knew I had to figure out the emotions I’d been avoiding for years – decades really.

It was a really difficult process, and I vacillated between feeling absolutely nothing – just utter numbness – to feeling everything at once as if all of my nerves were on fire. I was not an easy patient – I screamed a lot, I self-injured many, many times, I frustrated my treaters and my family. My psychiatrist actually told me at one point (out of sheer exasperation) to “Just go cut yourself!” (not helpful, btw).

I was SO lost, SO scared, and SO confused. My therapist during this time (and who is incidentally still my therapist, some 22 years later) was an absolute gem – the first six months I saw her, I refused to speak. I had not an iota of an idea of what to do with the thoughts and feelings I was experiencing. They felt utterly out of control, and the Beast kept telling me, “Kill yourself. Go on do it, you worthless, hopeless, useless, failure.”

Gradually, as I began to trust (and speak to) my therapist and the other professionals at the hospital, I learned to have control not of my thoughts and feelings but control over how I reacted to them. For instance, now when I have had it with the Beast that is suicide, I understand that I have the choice to go jump off a parking structure, crash my car, overdose, etc. – or to seek help from one of the professionals that I work with (and trust).

For a long time now, I have sought the counsel of someone who has more self-awareness than I and let them take over my battle with the Beast when I am too depleted to fight the “good fight.” Remember, our thoughts and feelings sometimes trick us, and we need to trust others to help us when the Beast is raging in our ears and minds. Yes, learning to deal with your thoughts and feelings is no easy task, but once you learn to defuse them, you’ll feel an enormous sense of self-awareness – and relief. It’s worth examining your thoughts and feelings to see if you can benefit from this self-reflection. It’s one of the best ways to defuse the Beast.