For a long time, I thought accepting something meant I had to be okay with it.
If I accepted someone’s behavior, was I saying it was acceptable? If I accepted the changes in my body, was I giving up on getting stronger? If I accepted a painful situation, did that mean I had to stop wishing things had turned out differently?
I’m learning that acceptance and agreement are two very different things.
Agreement says, “I believe this is right.”
Acceptance says, “This is what is happening, and I need to decide how to respond.”
There is a lot of freedom in that difference.
I Can Accept Reality Without Applauding It
Living with MS has given me plenty of opportunities to practice acceptance. Some days, I would prefer fewer opportunities. I’m fairly certain I have completed the introductory course, yet life keeps signing me up for continuing education.
I can accept that I need my walker today without being thrilled about it. I can acknowledge that my energy has limits without agreeing that those limits should get the final say in every part of my life.
Acceptance allows me to ask, “What would help me enjoy today?”
Sometimes the answer is rest. Sometimes it is asking for help. Sometimes it is finding a different way to do something I still love.
I can keep hoping, praying, and working toward improvement while being honest about where I am right now. Hope doesn’t require me to pretend that today is easier than it is.
Acceptance Can Include a Boundary
This lesson gets a little more complicated when people are involved.
As a recovering people-pleaser, I have sometimes confused accepting people with accommodating everything they do. I thought being loving meant understanding one more time, overlooking one more comment, or explaining myself until the other person finally approved.
That is an exhausting way to live. Apparently, being everyone’s emotional customer service department does not come with paid vacation.
I can accept that someone sees things differently without adopting their opinion.
I can accept that someone is disappointed with my boundary without removing it.
I can recognize that a person may never give me the apology or understanding I hoped for—and still decide what kind of relationship is healthy for me.
Acceptance does not require continued access to my time, energy, or heart. Sometimes accepting the truth about a relationship is what finally helps me set an honest boundary.
Making Room for Grief
There are things I accept that still make me sad.
I miss parts of my independence. I miss the ease of doing something without first considering my balance, my energy, or whether there are stairs involved.
Those feelings do not mean I have failed at acceptance. They mean something mattered to me.
I can be grateful for the help I receive and grieve needing that help. I can enjoy the life I have and miss parts of the life I once knew.
My heart has room for both.
Acceptance is rarely a single decision that stays settled forever. Some mornings it comes easily. Other mornings, I need a little time, a little prayer, and possibly coffee before I am ready to have a reasonable conversation with reality.
Faith Without All the Answers
My faith gives me somewhere to bring the things I cannot make sense of.
I don’t have to call every painful experience good. I don’t have to understand why something happened before I ask God to help me through it.
Sometimes my prayer is simply, “Lord, this is where I am today. Help me take the next step.”
That prayer leaves room for sadness, hope, and action. It lets me be honest instead of searching for the words I think I am supposed to say.
Choosing My Response
I’m learning to pause when I catch myself arguing with something I cannot change in this moment.
What am I facing?
What do I feel about it?
What choice is still mine?
I may need to speak up, ask for support, change a plan, or take a break. I may need to let someone have an opinion I do not share.
Accepting what is happening helps me see those choices more clearly. I spend less energy trying to make reality admit it has inconvenienced me—although, for the record, it has.
I still have a voice. I still have boundaries. I still have hopes for tomorrow.
And today, I can begin right where I am.
What might become easier if you allowed yourself to accept it without requiring yourself to agree with it? This is still an area I am really working on, because always thought agreement and accepting were the same thing.
Julie Payne
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