The Delicious Smugness of Certainty

I’m not sure what tastes better than a big old bite of smug certainty.

Go ahead, try to think of something. Chocolate? No. Artisan-roasted coffee? Uh uh (although my best friend does roast some amaaaazing coffee). A field of wildflowers in an alpine meadow? Not even.

Watching a hummingbird drink nectar from a wildflower in an alpine meadow while sipping an artisan-roasted coffee and eating fair-trade chocolate? With fresh, organic raspberries? Hmm… that might be about on par with the deliciousness of smug certainty, but I do not believe it surpasses it.

Certainty says, “do x and y will happen.” It says, “Do z and q will not happen.” It says, “oh, that bad thing only happened to you (other person/other people/other country) because you did x.”

It feels superior because y has happened, because q has not happened, because of doing all the things. You know, the things you are supposed to do? To earn merit in heaven/the mommy forums/your family/your social group/on facebook/in the blogosphere?

You know, the things you are not supposed to do? (Which hugely vary depending on your social group/parenting philosophy/religion/non-religion with a code of belief every bit as dogmatic as those in religion, etc). To avoid damnation/a child with autism/a child who does drugs/a child with mental illness/heart disease/ being victimized/cancer/getting divorced/going bankrupt/having a messy house?

We are fortunate to have avoided certain problems, whether by good fortune or our own wise choices, or (most often) a mix of both. We could be grateful.

And then, Smug Certainty sneaks in.

I picture her looking a bit like this:

via GIPHY

(Yes, I just made Smug Certainty into a person. It’s a legit therapy thing).

Smug Certainty feels equal parts safe and superior. Yum!

There’s just one problem with that sweet, sweet certainty:

It turns bitter/ Becomes dust in your mouth/ It leads to falling/ on your knees.

(It makes your blog posts turn into weird poems).

It creates distance between us and others. It slyly squeezes compassion out; it lets us believe we are not vulnerable; it deceives us about the nature of life, lets us forget that suffering, death, and pain are inevitable for us too; it breeds dogmatism; it breeds fundamentalism; it leaves us alone, on the island of superiority we’ve built for ourselves.

Motherhood gives us so many opportunities for smugdom, and to be humbled, as does life-hood. And human-hood.

Example:

I had a magical, pain-free, unmedicated birth with Warrior Girl. I caught her myself. I was pretty sure of a whole lot of things about birth, and about myself.

Then Grace Girl came along. After a month of prodromal labor, I was induced on my due date because she didn’t seem to be growing anymore.

I was sobbing on my nurse’s shoulder by 6 centimeters and begging for an epidural by 9, which they gave me by the time my body was already pushing.

Me: My body is pushing!

Them: There’s a needle in your spine. DO NOT MOVE!

Me: *Envisioning being paralyzed due to accidentally moving. *Crying.

I did a bunch of things I thought I would never do. She was not positioned well, which caused back labor. And I completely fell apart. I completely lost control. I panicked.

Where was the surrendered-spiritual-birthing goddess of yesteryear? She abandoned me along with everything I knew somewhere in my 8th (12th?) night of thinking I was going into labor, and left nothing but a mortal woman sobbing through contractions and begging for a way out.

Other examples:

All the bazillion times I’ve believed something only to later find that another way of looking at it makes more sense. Wait, that wasn’t an example, was it? I’m not going to illustrate these ones in case any of the things I no longer believe are things you, Dear Reader, currently believe. I don’t mean that in a smug-tastic way; I mean it in a “there-are-so-many-valid-ways-of-looking-at-things” way.

But let me just put it to you this way:

(Note: I tried to think of ways to say “ass handed to self” without saying “ass,” but couldn’t figure it out so now it’s out there and we all just have to live with it).

…Now that we’ve heard extensively from Smug Certainty, let’s hear from someone else.

You, there in the back, speak up now. Ah, it’s Uncertainty.

Uncertainty says “I’m trying my best but no doubt there are all kinds of things I’m wrong about that I never even thought of and really, I don’t know how it will turn out. I’m pretty much in the same boat as everyone else, which is comforting in it’s own way.”

Ah, yes. Thank you, Uncertainty, for the reminder that we’re in this wild wonderland together.

Question: How many times must I be so sure, only to find I know nothing at all?

Answer: As many times as it takes.

Alrighty, Reader friends, it’s your turn to share. What are you favorite things to be smug and certain about? How do you cope with the discomfort of uncertainty? How do you like being in this uncertain wild wonderland with me, and all the humans in the world?