No One is Coming!
I’ve heard David Goggins berate people about it. I’ve read it in books. I’ve heard it quoted in movies. Even my own wife Mel Robbins has intellectualized it. And yet I’m embarrassed to say I never stopped to seriously consider that “No One is Coming to Save Us.”
Ever contemplated this idea? That we are on our own and it’s completely up to us to save ourselves (even if we are lucky enough to be surrounded by supportive family, friends, teachers, therapists, mentors, etc.).
How does this resonate with you?
Do you find freedom in believing your destiny is yours to fulfil or f*ck up? Are you the type of person who is happy to know you’re the only one driving the bus? In a weird kind of way, it is liberating to conclude that our excuses and complaints are merely echoes of our apathy.
Or do you skew the other way - where this simple truth provokes heart-wrenching horror. Like holy sh*t, I’m totally on the hook to save myself. This can feel daunting when you finally realize your success, strength, well-being, happiness, etc. is 110% your personal responsibility.
I posed this question to a group of guys and was floored by what I learned.
Fact is, this lesson is being taught in every classroom imaginable. At home, we are expected to grow up. This starts with learning how to walk and talk and ends with the proverbial pat on the back and push to become self-sufficient. In school, the teacher demands you listen and learn, do the work on your own. At the office, your boss hires you with expectations that you will outperform the last hire. And in life, it’s completely on you to nurture your relationships, fix your financial situation, improve your health – you name it, nobody is your back up quarterback. Even parenting doesn’t offer a playbook. At the end of the day, we are on our own.
This conversation also reminded me of all the other teachers who directly or indirectly expose this truth. Let’s start with death as the most profound teacher. Burying a mother or father can be one of the most dramatic alarm bells. The physical loss of their smile, hug or touch and the psychological loss of their cheerful support can be a harsh reminder that you are officially alone. And the school of hard knocks whose classroom is our own household where cries for help are often met with silence, denial or even worse, abuse. These are difficult teachers.
Personally, I grew up in a mostly loving household, so neglect or hurt were not my instructor. Without knowing it, I was taught to be independent (read I was left on my own to figure shit out). While I sometimes paid the price of a “latch key” existence, it ultimately served me well as I learned how to effectively navigate problem situations. This probably contributed to my stubborn pursuit (and definition) of success, but thank the stars I held a steadfast belief that I could “save” myself.
Nevertheless, it was eye opening to hear these guys tell stories about how they learned no one was coming - by facing the death of a loved one, battling through a rough childhood, or navigating the destruction of a meaningful relationship. Oddly enough, none of these shared experiences taught us in quite the same way.
It wasn’t until a decade after my father died that I started to hear the nuance of this concept. He passed back in 2006 and of course I was sad, but his long battle with esophageal cancer left me somewhat relieved (after 18 months of suffering) that he was no longer in pain. It was almost easier to conclude that his resting heart put him in a better, more comfortable place than wasting away in his bedroom at 6’2” and 70 pounds without the will to walk, eat or speak. His departure however didn’t leave me feeling worried that I had lost a much-needed backstop. Perhaps it was my sense of independence that gave me comfort? Or maybe that I had already jumped through many of life’s big hurdles – marriage, mortgages, parenting, and a boat load of professional failure.
Shockingly it was a religious perspective shared by one of the men on this Zoom call that hit me like a freight train. It was the idea that “God is our savior and since he is everywhere, we don’t need saving.”
I had to stop and contemplate this one. Being the secular person that I am, it took me a minute to consider that religion might be in play. And then my mind deferred to the only spiritual teachings I really comprehend – those of the Buddha. Buddhist philosophies profess that from birth to death, we are whole, complete, and good. We are perfect just as we are - never needing more from anyone or anything outside of ourselves. This set off explosions in my mind. If we have everything we need (inside of us), then we can officially give up the chase for external validation. We are acceptable, even perfect, as we are (and despite all the disasters we have encountered along the way).
Remembering these Buddhist teachings brought back a flood of memories of my father. It helped me see (and reluctantly admit) how spent much of my life chasing his love and affection. It’s all I ever wanted – not saving, just love. He did the best he could, but like many of us children from the 70’s, I grew up lonely, fearful, and feeling unseen and unheard. His professional and other worldly pursuits contributed to him being physically and emotionally absent for much of my youth. This unlocked a different kind of perspective. Losing him was just the hook and jab. The knockout punch was me realizing I had been waiting my whole life to feel his love. His death was merely a confirmation that no one was coming to see me, hear me, or love me.
This has been a liberating discovery. I found a puzzle piece I never knew was missing. Today I rest a bit easier knowing that I never needed or wanted saving, I just wanted loving. Even more inspiring is the realization that I’ve got all the love I need – deep inside of me.
//Christopher Robbins