Sacred Stress: A Radically Different Approach to Using Life's Challenges for Positive Change

Praise for Sacred Stress:

A Radically Different Approach to

Using Life’s Challenges for Positive Change

A thoughtful and compassionate book, filled with wisdom and kindness.

—John Eldredge , author, Wild at Heart

George Faller and Heather Wright’s wise counsel offers a whole new path to hope and healing for readers courageous enough to receive the gift of sacred stress.

—Ian Morgan Cron , author, Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim’s Tale

Use[s] vivid stories to advocate a transformative and very helpful paradigm shift…. Many readers living fast-paced, pressured days will greatly benefit from their ideas, as I did.

—Rev. Lynne M. Baab, PhD , author, Sabbath Keeping and The Power of Listening

A great book for stressful times. Written from the authors’ heart and the heart of God.

—Kenny Sanderfer, LMFT , certified EFT therapist, supervisor and trainer

Stress, motivating and challenging, is simply part of our lives. These two colleagues and authors approach its dynamics with great experience, sensitivity and honesty.

—Rev. Dr. James B. Lemler , rector, Christ Church Greenwich

"A gift of a book—with solid science to back it up, Sacred Stress will help you, uplift you, educate you and engage you…. You will walk away with a lot of new tools for relieving stress in your life."

—Diana Fosha, PhD , director and founder, AEDP Institute; developer of AEDP (Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy)

Uplifting and evocative.

—Jim Sharon, EdD , coauthor, Secrets of a Soulful Marriage: Creating and Sustaining a Loving, Sacred Relationship

Highly recommend[ed]…. Will help transform stress in your life from a limiting to an enabling force.

—Michael Lee Stallard , author, Connection Culture: The Competitive Advantage of Shared Identity, Empathy and Understanding at Work

A highly effective roadmap…. A wonderful resource.

—Rabbi Mitchell M. Hurvitz , coauthor, Encyclopedia of Judaism ; cofounder, Sholom Center for Interfaith Learning and Fellowship

Inspiring … deep wisdom about adversity and resilience.

—Froma Walsh, PhD , Firestone Professor Emerita, University of Chicago; author, Strengthening Family Resilience

[An] indispensable, compassionate and accessible handbook … for every minister and caregiver.

—Rev. Drew Williams , senior pastor, Trinity Church Greenwich

Poignant vignettes, scattered with pearls of wisdom…. Take[s] us on a journey of transformation and growth.

—Richard Ager, PhD , dean, Tulane School of Social Work

Thank You For Purchasing This Skylight Paths eBook!

Sign up for our e-newsletter to receive special offers and information on the latest new books and other great eBooks from SkyLight Paths.

Sign Up Here

or visit us online to sign up at

www.skylightpaths.com.

Send Us Your Feedback

Click here to send us your feedback and be entered into our quarterly drawing for a $100 gift certificate for SkyLight Paths books.

From George:

To the strong women in my life—

Sue Johnson, for seeing something in me I didn’t know was there;

Mom, for passing down your love of reading, family, and faith;

Kathy, for living the words of this book and inspiring me to aim higher.

From Heather:

To my husband, Mark, and our blended family, Douglas, Catie, and Alyse

(and our dog, Sadie). Each of you, every day, teach me the value of

connection and the power of love. I am forever grateful.

Contents

Prologue      Our Stories

Introduction

Part 1 How Stress Affects Our Interior World

1Reframing Thinking

Expanding Our Perspective

2Creating Connections

Learning to Embrace Our Emotions

3Opening the Door to Transformation

Knowing and Naming Our Emotions

Part 2 How Stress Breaks and Makes Relationships

4Nurturing the Ultimate Connection

Romantic Relationships, Sex, and Stress

5Enjoying the Wild Ride

Parenting and Stress

Part 3 How External Realities Shape Our Stress

6Breaking a Dependency

Handling Money with Integrity

7Claiming Strength and Resiliency

Overcoming the Wounds of Trauma

Epilogue      Befriending Stress

Notes

Suggestions for Further Reading

About the Authors

Copyright

Also Available

About SkyLight Paths

Sign Up for Email Updates

Send Us Your Feedback

PROLOGUE

Our Stories

Encountering My True Self

GEORGE

On September 11, 2001, the New York City Fire Department (FDNY) lost 343 members, the largest loss of life of any emergency response agency in history.¹ In one brief moment, the world turned upside down, throwing most firefighters headfirst into a raging ocean of chaos and distress. Shortly after the first plane struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center, I left my home and my crying wife, Kathy, as she was holding our newborn son, and reported to Ground Zero. As a New York City firefighter, I could not stop to comfort her; I had a duty to fulfill. Worrying was not an option. I had to trust my training, get into survivor mode, and concentrate on the mission of rescue and recovery, not knowing which of my friends were dead and missing. Burned into my memory is the disarray I encountered right after the second tower collapsed, a scene of surreal devastation unlike anything I had ever seen before. The twisted steel, smoke, dust, eerie silence, and frightened faces jumbled together into a real-time nightmare. My impulse was to flee, but I chose to go forward.

The first day was a blur as I fought to suppress a multitude of feelings— frustration while I waited to do something, helplessness when I finally was able to search but found nothing, sadness for the emerging long list of lost friends, anger toward the attackers, and fear about what could happen next. On September 12, I was part of a team searching for victims and remains in the burning debris deep inside Ground Zero. Our task was to squeeze into voids created by the collapse, working in limited visibility due to the smoke, and try to find bodies, alive or dead. All rescue workers were informed that if we heard a loud gonging sound, it was a warning signal that the damaged adjoining buildings might collapse and firefighters engaging in search operations needed to find safe shelter away from the collapse zone.

My team and I had just discovered a cavernous void within the twisted steel when we heard unmistakable gonging. I will never forget the panic that arose in my chest when I thought about being buried alive and never seeing my family again. I remember thinking I didn’t even have a radio to call for help, and it would probably take weeks for other rescuers to find my body. Fighting the urge to run, I also realized that someone might be alive just a few feet away from me. I knew if I left I would be breaking my oath to give my all to rescue a victim or fallen brother. Our team decided we were safely below the collapse zone, although in truth we didn’t really know where we were. We recognized this might be our only chance to find survivors, and if roles were reversed, we would expect other firefighters to push ahead and try to find us. So we ignored the gong, put fears aside, and pressed on with the search.

I am so thankful for my training to turn off my fears during a crisis and focus on the tasks at hand. In life-and-death situations, the ability to stay calm under pressure is incredibly adaptive. Our society values steady performance during times of stress. No one wants his doctor before surgery expressing her doubts and insecurities, or a firefighter talking about being scared while heading toward a fire. Short doses of managing stress by suppressing emotional signals are sometimes absolutely necessary.

Nevertheless, managing stress with habitual emotional avoidance exacts high costs. Chronically disregarding the emotional signals accompanying stress leads to imprecision and lack of awareness. When someone doesn’t listen to his inner world, he doesn’t develop words to articulate his experience. When a child cries and no parent responds, the child learns to stop crying. As the child grows she continues to feel sadness, but the ability to express sadness is compromised. Over time the unused muscles wither, and crying is no longer a viable option. As an adult, her ability to express sadness takes on a vague and nameless quality. The emotional signals are still internally active, but the individual is not tuned into the frequency.

Those who study stress have found that long-term emotional numbing leads to a sense of self that lacks coherence, continuity, clarity, and comprehensiveness.² No wonder I was so confused in the days after September 11. I had stopped listening to the messages my body was trying to tell me. Disregarding the wisdom of my emotions made me susceptible to the negative impacts of stress—sleeplessness, loss of appetite, moodiness, and an inability to concentrate. Not listening to my distress signals of helplessness and sadness, which were pleading for me to reach toward comfort and connection, left me utterly alone to face unrelenting stress. When I returned home exhausted on September 13, I did not tell Kathy about my experiences in the previous days, nor did I have the energy to ask about hers. She already had too much to worry about, and I could not add more to her plate. I shielded her and our relationship by further burying my emotions. There is a saying proudly displayed in every firehouse: Everything you see here stays here—and I followed all the rules I had learned about separating family from work.

Over the ensuing months after 9/11, I was unable to share with Kathy the horrible things I was seeing or the risks I needed to take. Working day and night, I moved from the rescue and recovery effort at Ground Zero to the survival effort at home, protecting my wife by keeping inside the awful realities I witnessed every day. I hid my powerful feelings of anger, sadness, shame, fear, and helplessness. Kathy adopted a similar coping strategy. Realizing I was overwhelmed, she did a noble job of sheltering me and soothing her own feelings—her fear and loneliness. She gave me space and learned to depend on herself, believing it was unfair to make demands on me when I was doing my best to help so many people. We were just trying to endure, but the emotional price was costly. At a time when we needed each other most, we were moving apart.

Our method of coping with stress was an amazing testimony to the strength of love and sacrifice, but because it was done through avoidance and suppression, it never had a chance of working for the long haul. Instead of reaching toward each other for healing support, we were growing apart. We were not alone in our drifting. Distant marriages became epidemic within the FDNY. The sad reality was most firefighters either didn’t recognize the serious threat of this emotional distance, or they had no idea how to bridge the gap.

Like most firefighters, I found it easier to give to others than to take a hard look at myself and figure out what I needed to receive. I had no experience or muscle memory of asking for help, so predictably I didn’t ask. Looking back, the saddest part wasn’t the isolation, but the fact that I assumed my struggles were a result of something being wrong with me. Firefighters know being alone during a fire is not good, yet somehow we’re supposed to handle the stress after a fire differently. How unfair not to be taught how to reach for support and then blame yourself for not knowing how to do it.

As the days ground on and I kept pushing, my stress increased as my personal well-being declined. I tried so hard to do the right thing, only to find myself in jeopardy of losing everything important to me. Though I had grown up in the church, I hadn’t learned the strategies and perspectives that I needed to deal with the pressures I faced. Stuck alone with unrelenting stress, I watched my mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual essence deteriorate. I became more reactive and defensive. I was failing as a firefighter, a father, and a husband.

As my situation became increasingly bleak, I had an epiphany: the rules I had always relied on about denying the effects of stress just did not work. Turning away from Kathy when we so urgently needed each other was crazy. By withholding ourselves out of our desire to offer one another loving protection, we essentially barred any hope of receiving the responses we so desperately needed. My intuition urged me to escape from this deadly snare of seclusion. This time I listened to my internal emotional signal of helplessness and reversed course, heading home for some much-needed sustenance.

Kathy and I agreed to give up our strategy of mutual avoidance. I’ll never forget the profound relief and reconciliation I experienced after Kathy was able to listen to my feelings of helplessness and fears of failure and just felt sad for me. She didn’t know what to say, but her eyes let me know that she was with me and I was no longer alone. I let her into my secret world, and she jumped into the hole with me and gave me permission to face my negative feelings. Throughout our relationship, we had shared many happy moments together, but this was the first time we truly shared our insecurities and vulnerabilities. Being in the hole together meant we were no longer alone, and that makes a huge difference.

This watershed moment altered my perspective on dealing with stress. My wife and I discovered that sharing our stress offers amazing opportunities for vulnerability and connection. Acclaimed author and research professor Brené Brown’s research convincingly argues that rarely does someone’s attempt to fix a problem make anything better. What makes something better is the very act of connecting.³

As a parent I have tried to fix problems rather than focus on connection more often than I’d like to admit. I vividly remember my oldest son, CJ, coming off the bus after school one day animatedly telling me a story of how he got detention because the teacher thought he’d thrown a piece of paper in class when actually his friend had committed the offense. He said, Can you believe it, Dad? Totally unfair! He was looking for connection, for me to join him in his indignation at this betrayal of justice. Unfortunately, I missed his signal and used his sharing as an opportunity to lecture him on the benefits of standing up for himself. I tried to love him by giving advice on what to do differently, which shut him down quicker than taking the ALS ice bucket challenge. I missed a golden opportunity to connect with CJ because I couldn’t resist my urge to fix the problem and protect him in the future. So often as parents we pester our kids to engage without realizing how our relentless attempts to help are driving them away.

Every event holds the potential to either enhance or disturb connection. Realizing that stress can provide a doorway into stronger bonds and more meaningful encounters empowers us to seize the opportunity. The tragedy of 9/11 provided my wife and me a portal into deeper intimacy. We replaced our typical attempts to find solutions to our problems, which usually resulted in more distance, with a simple focus on being present to and caring for the other person. In the loving presence of my wife, I encountered my true self.

I am convinced that the act of sharing vulnerability not only creates the richest environment to truly know oneself, but also offers a spiritual space where we can fuse with a source of love much bigger than either partner.

Sharing the Power of Vulnerability

The calamity of 9/11 and its aftermath presented me with the proverbial fork in the road. One path headed toward chaos, defensiveness, and despair, while the other led to redemption, connection, and growth. I am fortunate that I grasped the opportunity to find meaning in the madness and in the process tapped into God’s passion for connection. Throughout the Bible, there are countless stories of Jesus helping with compassion and comfort—not giving advice, fixing problems, or criticizing. Following his lead, I also saw a chance to serve and help others who were struggling with traumatic stress.

Alongside my full-time job as a firefighter, I decided to volunteer my services on my days off as a counselor to assist in post-9/11 firehouse critical incident stress debriefings. Walking into a firehouse that lost fourteen members and trying get them to talk about their feelings was a pretty intimidating challenge. When visiting a firehouse, we never knew what responses waited for us inside those big red doors.

We encountered the whole gamut of emotions, from big smiles and laughter to tears, rage, and silence. I heard countless stories of families and marriages under tremendous stress. I was stunned at the sheer magnitude of my fellow firefighters’ struggles with anxiety, depression, addiction, violence, and infidelity. September 11 shattered so many firefighters’ worldviews and trust in people. Overnight, devoted family men threw caution away and adopted a new perspective: Life is too short, so play hard. Their intense acting-out behaviors stood in stark contrast to the apathetic communication between firefighters and their family members. At a time when firefighters desperately needed others to support them in facing overwhelming amounts of stress, many didn’t know how to seek and receive help and so were left alone to confront