Quiet Persistence: How It Set Me Free
I have lived a life of quiet persistence.
Persist
Quiet Persistence, what is it? To persist is to continue steadfastly or firmly in some state, purpose, or course of action, especially despite opposition. To last or endure tenaciously.
I have lived a life of quiet persistence. A revelation that just began to surface. In part, because of the shadow work I have been doing through writing, my work in the studio and witnessing my daughter’s recovery.
Quiet persistence is a way of being that stems from my extraordinarily sensitive nature and timid behavior. I have been called stoic or aloof when among larger groups of people—a proper assessment.
For me, stoicism is a method of observation and absorption. Unfortunately, I do it to the point where my senses become overwhelmed. I retreat into an internal cave of self-comfort. I do it less now, but the overwhelm still emerges, sometimes without warning, other times self-inflicted.
Being stoic has led me to be more present and do so without a lot of commotion. Being in control of my emotions while in the presence of others allows me to observe on my own terms and with quiet persistence.
Silent Distrust
A general distrust of people began early on when I faced ridicule and rejection for things I said or did—minor traumas in the adult world, but significant for a young child.
A prime example from my youth was doodling during math or daydreaming in science class. Doodling and daydreaming were ways to process information through my imagination—a revelation no one understood in the '60s, not even me.
Time in the corner, a slap on the hand, or a pinch on the shoulder led to being publicly shamed.
However, despite the responses, these behaviors felt natural to me. So feeling rejected, I shut down and hid behind a cloak of shyness. I found my timid ways were allowing me to witness the world from a perspective that could only be scrutinized by me.
Growing up, I didn’t share most of what I thought about the world, and rarely voiced my distrust. My internal compass was guiding me instead, quietly persisting.
Childhood Beliefs
Rejections in my youth melded into a childhood belief that I had little value. I continue to carry this belief on some level. As a sensitive soul, I feel my voice was never really heard. Not an unusual childhood belief, rooted in family dynamics and being born female.
In the 60’s, birth control did not exist for public consumption, and thus our family expanded to four children total by the time my parents were 26. I was bound to be pushed out of the “needing attention” circle sooner rather than later.
It was not just at home where I felt unheard and devalued; it was everywhere, especially at school. When I was older, it was bosses, coworkers, college mates, and other acquaintances along the way.
When we feel unheard, we feel devalued. This is not news to anyone. So many of us ask ourselves, what’s the point of it all if we cannot say what is on our mind and have someone actually listen?
Instead, you are just going through the motions robotically. We either don’t care, don’t have time, are in denial, or are just plain exhausted by it all.
Keeping to Myself to Protect Myself
Feeling devalued stems largely from male influences. There have been few males in my life that I felt or feel listen to much of anything I have to say. I partially blame myself.
Due to my extreme sensitivity, I was not an effective communicator and often gave up without a fight. The mirror effect: devaluing self, therefore others devalue me.
So I gave up early on. Went along to get along. See my article, “Doing My Being”.
While I worked hard to get along, my observations and interpretations of the world were forming. I kept them to myself, essentially hoarding them. I trusted no one with what I was really thinking. Feeling the wrath of rejection when exposing anything of importance was not a road I wanted to pursue.
Quiet persistence through self-protection.
Intuition Led Me Toward Endurance
Being aware of the world beyond my years, I suffered a weird self-imposed silence. Intuition and empathy are a blessing and a curse. My intuition rarely leads me astray.
Examples of my quiet persistence:
The time I walked 14 blocks home from kindergarten when my dad forgot to pick me up. I did not think to ask for help before setting out on my mission. I knew my goal. Cell phones were not a thing in the 60’s. It is both funny and sad that fear did not enter my mind until I peeked over the hill to my house and everyone came running at me. Their projection of fear cast a shadow on me, and that shadow was self-doubt. That doubt remains in bits and pieces, even today. I do take solace in the fact that my five-year-old self began that intuitive journey through actions that felt right to me.
In college, my desire to take a trip overseas outweighed the fact that I lost my job because I dared to ask for several weeks off to travel. In addition, I never ventured outside of the United States or been away from home for more than a week. However, I knew deep within my soul, it would change the course of my life. And it did.
In the same vein, after my spouse was offered a residency in either New Orleans or Fargo, ND, I chose the former. Suggesting it would be a great adventure. My internal need to live in a more diverse environment outweighed any familial or familiar influences. I knew, intuitively, it was the right path. And life for both of us transformed after living in Louisiana.
Another prime example of my faithful intuition is that, as my daughter struggled with a substance use disorder, I chose to be there whenever she needed me. An enabler? Maybe. But my daughter’s need for love and compassion superseded the naysayers. As she made the decision to begin her recovery journey in earnest, my heart and soul said, “Yes, you can come home to a safe space where you can heal”.
Despite the doubters (silent and otherwise) every step of the way, I endured quietly and persistently.
Doubting Myself
Still, there are so many times I doubt myself because of the incessant pounding and irrational noise of our 24/7 society—a continuous ring in my ears and a constant rattle in my brain. There are times when my empathetic side takes precedence over my intuition, causing me to care more about what others think, rather than what is good for me. An outcrop of feeling devalued. I do not want to hurt the feelings of others, nor do I want to feel the pain of rejection. I know I am not alone in this affliction. It is disturbing more often than not.
It took years for me to realize that my work as an artist has immense value to me because it is who I am, not what I do. Doubt has been sitting way too comfortably in the backseat of this journey since the beginning. For years, I let my need to placate others supplant my intuitive need to express myself through art.
I still doubt my work as an artist and whether others place value on the work itself. But I no longer doubt MYSELF as an artist or my quiet persistence to stay true to my purpose for creating.
As I grow, my intuition wins more often than not because I am learning to value my quiet persistence and ability to endure.
Image: Weaved Re-Awakening
I chose this image because it represents the constant re-awakening of ourselves as life’s experiences weave their way throughout our journey. A soul reveals itself but is often in a state of flux or exists in the shadows, as that journey continues.
Image Link: “Weaved Re-Awakening”
Thanks Michelle for this insightful post. You've written about these issues before, and every time you do, your insights go deeper. I was particularly struck by the notion that being devalued is exhausting. I'd never really thought about this before, but it really resonates with me - working so hard, for so many years to be seen, heard; to trust and be trusted. I really feel exhausted at the core of my being. Exhaustion is a "hidden" condition that's often hard to identify and accept, especially in our go-go society. So it's great that you've named it. It helps me to make peace with my lack of motivation these days, as I nourish myself slowly to a new state of ease and joy.