Surrender is a dirty word

(4 minute read)

Surrender feels like such a dirty word.

Even thinking it, I feel something drop, or ignite in me - like I've been overcome, defeated, overpowered, belittled almost. There's shame folded into it, and sitting with the feelings that come up when I think about it makes me want to go to war with it, or with something at least.

I have never been one to take injustice well. Bullying? Absolutely not, very triggering, and surrender makes me feel like a defenceless person, like a bully victim.

Naturally, it makes me wonder why this is so powerful in me, which leads me to wonder… how much of what I need might actually live inside this discomfort?

So many recognitions, ideas and concepts that are uncomfortable on the surface seem to be full of wisdom underneath. But I don't want surrender to be one of these examples. It feels messy, and I would rather stay the image of the stoic warrior woman, victorious in battle, never to surrender.

There is something pushing me, or pulling me (whatever), into it though. Unfortunately, it feels like it could be a next step.

Sitting closely to vulnerability, I think… maybe they are even sharing a seat.

Vulnerability is something I've been circling since Brené Brown's TED talk was first suggested to me, more than fifteen years ago now. With over 24 million views on TED's own YouTube channel, I doubt I'm the only one who liked her ideas, took them and kept following whatever other wisdom she came out with.

It's strange, then, that I'm still wrestling with this, I mean after 15 years, a lifetime (to a 15 year old). Or maybe what's actually strange is that I expected to have it "licked" by now, whatever "it" even is.

I didn't jump straight from vulnerability to surrender. I got here sideways, I think, by way of attachment, non-attachment, handing things over, and letting go.

Although now I reflect on these, I’m not sure how much letting go I’ve done.

I think if I am honest its been more like: okay, I’ll let that go, but hold on for dear life to this little piece and you can get lost if you think you are taking it.

It's that little bit that seems like a surrender.

The final (probably not Katherine, but okay) piece to let go of.

The nope, not happening.

And it makes me curious. Why not let it go? What does it mean to let it go? To actually surrender? What am I holding onto anyway?

Surrender itself hasn't really been studied by science - not under that exact name, anyway, which feels like an oversight.

What has been studied are its close cousins: acceptance, mindfulness, non-attachment, letting go, psychological flexibility, emotional regulation.

All of it circling the same territory really. Surrender, just wearing a more palatable name.

The dictionary definition is blunt: to yield control or power, whether by compulsion, demand, or agreement - to give up possession, authority, or control to another party. To acknowledge defeat, or submit to an opponent.

It also covers giving yourself over to an influence, letting yourself be guided or overcome by an emotion or experience.

To me, that first sense screams defeat, and defeat implies a loser. Nobody wants to be the loser. Don’t we work very hard most of the time not to be losers?

But there's another sense - the psychological, mindfulness-informed one.

Here, surrender isn't about defeat at all. It's about softening our grip, releasing the constant need to resist, predict and control. It's allowing things to unfold without exhausting ourselves trying to force them into a particular shape. 

This is where the research comes in: acceptance, non-attachment, letting go, psychological flexibility.

Funny how a word that sounds so dirty can, seen through a different lens, start to sound almost delicious. Something softer. Something peaceful. Something I might actually want to move towards. 

Maybe "surrender" isn't the right word for both meanings. They feel too far apart to share one label.

Or maybe that's exactly where it loops back to vulnerability - allowing myself to surrender, messy connotations and all, for the sake of something greater.

Ultimately, that's what this journey is about for me - exploring different concepts, pushing myself, challenging myself as I take in new experiences and move away from what I always thought to be true.

Not necessarily finding myself, but discovering parts of myself as I become who I am.

But there's another problem with surrender and that's that it feels like inaction - like I'm doing nothing at all. And that feels both unproductive and foolish.

But maybe the surrender isn't from these feelings, it's into them. Allowing myself a new way of being, and surrendering to the process itself.

Surrender, then, perhaps doesn't have to mean defeat, my default definition - maybe it can mean acceptance.

Letting a slow unfolding begin, and continue. Surrendering to the fact that I don't know how things will turn out. Surrendering to faith and trust that, with continued work, I'll get to where I hope to be. Wherever that turns out to be.

And maybe surrender isn't the absence of action at all. Maybe it's the reduction of unnecessary prediction and control.

For a self-professed perfectionist control freak, that's a terrifying idea - and probably, admitting with reluctance, one of the best things I could embrace.

Perhaps the thing I need to surrender the most is my resistance to surrender itself.

The fight against the word. The reluctance to soften its meaning. The belief that letting go means losing. Maybe surrender isn't standing down because I've been defeated. Maybe it's choosing to stop fighting something that no longer needs a battle.

And perhaps that's where the strength is.

Not in always being the one who survives the fight.

But knowing when the fight is no longer needed.