Rosh Chodesh Elul

Today is Rosh Chodesh Elul. As I type those words onto my laptop screen, I notice a flood of familiar emotions washing over me. I feel anxious, worried, and pressured, and at the same time, a sense of renewal and excitement. I'm working on allowing myself to feel these emotions with a sense of acceptance.

In the past, the pressure to do teshuvah was often overwhelming to me. Because of that, I would push away the thoughts telling me to sit down and reevaluate what I wanted to change in my life, to make my actions more consistent with my values and the type of relationship I want with Hashem.

This year, I'm approaching my teshuvah and Elul in general differently. And it's all thanks to something I recently came across from ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy).

Dr. Russ Harris, writes about two types of pain: the pain of growth and the pain of stagnation.

The pain of growth comes up when we choose to step out of our comfort zone, when we face our fears, pursue our goals, and make changes to better our lives. With these choices come anxiety, fear, and uncertainty.

The second type of pain, the pain of stagnation, also comes with anxiety, fear, and uncertainty, but this kind comes from staying stuck, avoiding, and ignoring rather than tackling our problems.

The difference is that with the pain of growth, we experience worthwhile discomfort, one that comes with a sense of fulfillment. With the pain of stagnation, we're left feeling empty, and we suffer.

The bottom line is: we can’t avoid pain in life. We just have to ask ourselves: Which pain do I choose, meaningful pain or emptiness?

When I used to ignore thoughts like, “I should change,” “I should take this upon myself,” or “I should learn this sefer,” I did so in hopes of avoiding the uncomfortable emotions that inevitably come with making changes. But what I soon learned was that doing nothing also brought up those same emotions I was trying to avoid. The difference was that instead of discomfort paired with pride or growth, I felt stuck and empty.

So this Elul, I’m reminding myself and anyone else who needs to hear it that we do have a choice. We can choose the pain that comes with growth, with showing up, with trying, even if it’s uncomfortable. Or we can choose the pain of staying stuck, which might feel easier in the moment but leaves us feeling empty. There’s something empowering about just knowing that the hard feelings don’t mean we’re doing something wrong, they often mean we’re on the right path. Let this Elul be a time where we lean into that discomfort with kindness toward ourselves, and take small, honest steps toward the people we want to become.