The double-edged sword of stoicism
“I am doing good” may be my favourite white lie. We, as professionals, as friends, as family members, tell it to those closest to us all the time. Not only is it grammatically incorrect (Superman does good, I am doing well), it communicates nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt to avoid spilling our stresses and our worries onto unsuspecting victims. What else are we to say? That we could barely sleep last night thinking about the looming future and the multitude of choices we made to get here? That we can feel every movement wobble the bridge of fate? That our destiny is tied to a million different actions and inactions we have no capability of knowing if they are correct in the moment? Some might advocate for that, sure. Transparency and honesty can be cathartic tools to escape the fears of life. The mental vomiting of what keeps us awake is often preferred over quiet suffering, and lets us reflect inwardly as to what drives those fears. But just as quickly can your honesty choke you to the point of inaction where you live by the belief that your stress is unsolvable, as the subconscious trickles its way into your veins, seeping doubt into every part of your body until you lay there, paralyzed by uncertainty.
Fear and stress are powerful agents; they can push us to new heights, but they can equally be our undoing. However, we cannot live in a constant state of fear or stress as, otherwise, we would go insane with the volatility of our emotions. Rather, we rely on releases and escapes, as well as mental illusions, to convince ourselves that the stress is managed. One such way is through stoicism. Stoicism has come a long way, in terms of its modern understanding, from its Greek philosophic roots, and mostly revolves around the idea of remaining adamant in the face of danger while omitting repeated showings of emotion. Paying close attention to the judgment we make about situations, we can avoid negative emotions by dissociating the act from the reaction, and determining why something makes us upset rather than what makes us upset. This can be a great tool for ensuring that we do not feel overwhelmed by the pitfalls of life. While bad things will happen, our reactions determine our future state and therefore the avoidance of negative emotions will drive a rational solution-based mindset. If not, anger dictates a lot of our reactions and can lead to worse outcomes than if we had just bit our tongues. Therein lies the benefit of stoicism, where it offers a pathway to self-reflection, rather than spontaneous action fueled by negative emotions. I personally try to practice this at all times because it helps me assess situations rationally and work for compromise and concessions instead of coming from a place of revenge. Negative emotions are nothing but melting snowflakes of a harsh winter long passed, and it would be better to watch them melt than to grasp at them in futility.
In my advocacy for its adoption, I do recognize its clear drawbacks. Namely, the fact that all negative emotions must dissipate somewhere, internally or externally. It is analogous to jumping on a live grenade that you threw away to prevent those around you from being wounded by the shrapnel; regardless, someone must absorb the pain. The unfortunate reality about negative emotions, much more so than positive ones, is that negative emotions bubble and pool into a slimy goo in your internal cauldron, until they are released through external mechanisms. Otherwise, you run the risk of those emotions poisoning your very being, rendering you incapable of focusing on anything except their depressing existence. Notably, stress is a key ingredient to this witches’ brew and exponentially emphasizes the negative emotions you feel internally. When you experience little to no stress, you brush off mistakes and walk through the fire. But add a healthy helping of stress and you obsess over every misstep. Stress feeds off of stress, and it creates a vicious cycle of internal conflict hidden behind external stoicism. It is absolutely terrifying when calm people get angry and release those internal stressors onto the world. Yet stoicism insists on internal acceptance of negative emotions, because there is inherently no planning for external release. Your emotions are your problem, and dealing with them is a part of showing wisdom and maturity.
In a sense, I agree with the general teachings of stoicism being that you should not be spewing your anger and negative emotions onto those closest to you. However, there is a give and take. The take is that you avoid unnecessary confrontation fueled by nothing more than passionate feelings, while the give is that you forgo opportunities to healthily release your stresses. Knowing what we know now about human psychology, venting is a tool to let go of negative emotions burdening us and transform them into self-reflective moments where we think critically about what troubles us—much like stoicism preaches. However, while stoicism preaches internal mulling of our ailments, the modern boom of therapy dictates that people should vocalize their issues. Personally, and this is something I have only started doing very recently, I like a mix between the two philosophies. On one hand, being stoic in certain settings can not only bolster your own self-confidence, but it can create a mysticism and aura around you that inspires confidence in others. On the other hand, being direct with your feelings by alerting others around you can be a wildly beneficial tool to manage expectations of those closest to you. I am not advocating for excessive venting, but rather an acknowledgment of your own emotions by letting others know your mood. For me, instead of pretending that everything is fine and that I have everything together, I want to explicitly acknowledge my stress in a cursory way to avoid bubbling of internal negative emotions that others have no idea are happening. This might sound ridiculous, but I genuinely struggle to say the words “I am feeling stressed,” and I would rather deal with that internally. However, the perils are far too obvious and a change is needed.
I have realized that people do not always need a stoic presence. Sometimes, all they need is a passionate listener to hear their worries and acknowledge their wishes. I have failed countless times, and I will fail many times more, yet what scares me is not the thought of failure, but rather the thought of never trying to improve. Being stuck in my old ways does nothing to address the realities of the situation we as law students find ourselves in. Stress is around every single corner, so managing it is the ultimate goal. By letting stress brew internally, I have ironically made irrational decisions (despite what stoicism would lead you to believe) that were founded on a lack of foresight and attentiveness. I advocate against conflict-creation by exerting my internal stress onto others, and rather want to highlight conflict-avoidance by recognizing that stress is as valid a feeling as any other, and working to manage it. The first step begins with recognition of stressful situations and their impact on my psyche, only then I can get to work on addressing the root cause of the stress and surmising how to weed it out. The second step is weeding out the stress by avoiding explicit exertion of negative emotions through my words and my actions, and rather using it as a learning opportunity for myself to remain calm and poised, just as stoicism teaches. At the end of the day, I would like to do my best Hannah Montana impression and harness the best of both worlds.
