Acceptance is difficult to explain, but once people experience its power first-hand, they understand why it’s a necessary and important first step in overcoming any problem.

Acceptance is an attitude. Acceptance is way of looking at ourselves and the world around us. It implies a willingness and an openness to see things as they truly are, without judgment. For example, if you’re feeling anxious, you’re feeling anxious. That’s all. It doesn’t mean it’s horrible or catastrophic. It doesn’t mean the anxiety will last forever. It doesn’t mean you won’t be able to handle it. It doesn’t mean anything, except that you’re feeling anxious at a particular moment.

We’re so busy putting things into categories - "this is good" or "this is bad" - that we miss the actual experience of the moment. Certainly, it doesn’t come naturally to suspend judgment, tolerate uncertainty and turn off the ongoing internal commentary that plays in our minds. But all any of us can truly know is what’s happening right here, right now.

Acceptance doesn’t equal approval.  Many people think acceptance means approval, and this confusion causes them to balk at the whole idea. In the way we’re discussing it, however, these two aren’t equivalent. Acceptance does not equal approval. For example, accepting the fact that there is poverty in the world doesn’t mean you approve of poverty.

Acceptance also doesn’t mean you’re giving up. Accepting your doctor’s diagnosis of cancer doesn’t mean you’ll refuse treatment and just roll over and die. In addition, acceptance doesn’t preclude taking appropriate action. Recognizing that you’re anxious and experiencing shortness of breath doesn’t mean you won’t use the coping skills you have for calming down. Acceptance is simply paying attention to the way things are and taking appropriate action.

Acceptance alleviates suffering. Perhaps the greatest benefit of learning the art of acceptance is that it alleviates unnecessary suffering. We’re not saying you won’t feel any more pain, because you will. But the kind of acceptance we’re talking about can lead you to peace amidst the pain, calm in the center of chaos, serenity in spite of suffering. Does this sound too good to be true? In a way, it is, because acceptance doesn’t simply happen overnight.

We’ll share a personal example of how acceptance helped us transcend suffering. Although the story isn’t in itself about social anxiety, it poignantly illustrates how acceptance works in the "real world."

For the first three years of our son Jesse’s life, he had a multitude of health problems. One of our major concerns was his chronic vomiting. When he was an infant, our pediatrician reassured us that his "spitting up" was normal. Since this was our first child, we had no way to compare how much (buckets) or how often (after every meal) was normal. We had an inkling that his vomiting was somewhat unusual when we saw others’ horrified reactions as they witnessed the event. When we began introducing solid foods, we hoped the vomiting would stop. Unfortunately, the situation grew worse. Jesse stopped gaining weight at nine months, and started losing weight about the time of his first birthday.

Overwrought with worry after a particularly difficult weekend, we decided the time had come (perhaps we’d waited too long) to change pediatricians. Our new pediatrician took the matter seriously, completed extensive testing, and made the diagnosis of gastroesophageal reflux. We hoped an end was near when Jesse began taking a medicine frequently prescribed to treat reflux. To our dismay, however, the first medicine didn’t work. We tried many other medicines. None of them worked. He still vomited daily - often several times a day.

This wasn’t the way we’d envisioned our life with our firstborn child. In addition to our worry about his physical health, this problem greatly diminished our quality of life. It was a major challenge getting ready in the morning. Many times we’d be walking out the door when Jesse would vomit on himself and on at least one of us, sending us back to the bathtub. More than once he threw up on the dog. We didn’t go out much - it’s hard to find a babysitter mature enough to deal with this situation. We stayed awake all night listening for sounds of vomiting (he often did it when he was in bed). We spent hours and hours theorizing about what was wrong with him. We went to medical libraries and read anything that might apply.

During one office visit, the doctor spent a lot of time with us and gave us a good heart-to-heart talk. He told us that we had to accept Jesse’s vomiting - we should stop fighting it. It wasn’t life threatening at this point, he said; Jesse’s weight had stabilized. The only thing to do was wait until he outgrew the problem. This wasn’t what we wanted to hear. We wanted the problem fixed, solved, ended. How could we go on dealing with a child who vomited on a daily basis? Somehow, though, the doctor’s message of acceptance sank in. We realized we weren’t being fair to ourselves, or Jesse. We had restricted our life too much. The doctor was right. We had to start living, in spite of the vomiting.

What did acceptance involve for us? First, it meant grieving. We cried. We allowed ourselves to feel sad. As much as we’d tried to gain control of the problem, it was out of our control. Next, we "let go" of trying to prevent the vomiting. If we was going to vomit, so be it. We started getting out of the house more, carrying a bucket and a change of clothes wherever we went. We praised each other when we handled a tough situation. For example, we vividly remember the rainy Halloween night when he started to vomit while trick-or-treating at the shopping mall - how we quickly dumped the candy he had already collected onto the floor so the pumpkin-shaped bucket would be "available." We laughed about our situation a bit more. We impressed ourselves with our ability to clean up vomit one minute and eat dinner the next. We supported each other, and sought support from friends and family whenever possible.

As we accepted the situation, little by little, our suffering diminished. We handled things better, we enjoyed Jesse more, we were more relaxed. This attitude of acceptance carried with it other benefits: Our thinking gained clarity, and we trusted ourselves more. We knew it could not be healthy for anyone, much less someone so young, to vomit so much. Another year and a half had passed and he’d still not outgrown the problem. When we asked our pediatrician for a consultation, he continued to assert that it probably wasn’t a big deal, and he even suggested that we might have "conditioned" Jesse to vomit. The doctor nonetheless referred us to a pediatric gastroenterologist for another opinion. After another round of more invasive tests, the GI specialist found nothing conclusive. Next, we saw a psychologist who specialized in working with children and their parents. Was it possible the doctor was right, that we’d subtly reinforced our son’s vomiting? The psychologist didn’t think so, and she encouraged us to continue seeking medical answers.

Two weeks after his third birthday, Jesse was awake all night coughing and vomiting. When we took him to the doctor’s office the next morning, we saw an associate of our regular pediatrician. She noticed that Jesse was having difficulty breathing and hospitalized him. The next morning, the same doctor visited us in his room. She said, "I reviewed Jesse’s chart from front to back, and I believe I know what’s wrong with him. He has asthma and probably severe allergies." Looking back on it now, we’re amazed that no one had mentioned this as a possibility to us before. In fact, one of the theories we’d developed ourselves had to do with allergies, but Jesse’s first pediatrician saw no validity in it. Jesse received intensive treatment for his asthma while in the hospital, and he continued to take breathing treatments daily for the next several years. He’s doing much better now, vomiting only rarely when his asthma or allergies flare up.

As you can see, acceptance doesn’t come quickly or easily. It’s a process, much in the same way in which grieving someone’s death is a process. Only after you go through the shock, the denial, the anger, and the despair can you move forward with a spirit of patience and trust. Practicing the art of acceptance taught us to seek answers while at the same time tolerating uncertainty. We couldn’t control what was happening in Jesse’s body. We couldn’t force the medical professionals to take us seriously. We couldn’t change or control any of the events. All we could do was to take charge, as best we could, of our reactions to those events. Each new twist and turn, each new sign and symptoms, presented us with an opportunity to embrace the paradox of suffering - and acceptance. As twentieth-century philosopher, D.T. Suzuki, said, "Unless we agree to suffer, we cannot be free from suffering."

Next: Why Do We Fight Acceptance?
Learning & Practicing the Gentle Art of Acceptance

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