13 Comments
User's avatar
Melinda's avatar

Performative acceptance captures what I didn’t yet have language for. The way acceptance quietly turns into another standard, another way to monitor whether I’m being “good” at being sick.

In my experience, acceptance only showed up after I let myself say, “this took things from me, and I am allowed to mourn that without turning it into a lesson.” Before that, acceptance was just emotional management, not relief.

Thank you for naming the third camp. It explains why I felt so exhausted despite doing the work. This reframed something long overdue for me.

Dr. Talia's avatar

Appreciate your words, Melinda

Christine O’Neill's avatar

‘…“this took things from me, and I am allowed to mourn that without turning it into a lesson.” Before that, acceptance was just emotional management, not relief.’

🤯

Melinda, thanks for sharing this shift in perspective. This is the permission I’ve needed to give myself, but I didn’t have the language. ❤️

Melinda's avatar

That kind of permission can be so quietly powerful. I'm glad the language helped create a little more space for yourself 💛

Mary Monoky's avatar

This idea of “performing acceptance” feels like a real threshold to me — almost a 1.5 space between fighting what is and actually resting in it. A very human middle ground where people are reaching for steadiness before it truly arrives.

Dr. Talia's avatar

YES!!! Thank you, Mary. I wasn’t sure if this idea would translate on the page, but you have repeated back the essence beautifully here

Dr. KK Pinkowski, DSocSci, CPT's avatar

I’m with Mary on this one. Somewhere in the 1.5 space. I wobble back and forth and it’s uncomfortable but becoming less exhausting (I feel you, S). I think the hidden metric is partner/loved one/others and what *they* see when we wobble back and forth. That’s where I struggle. And that’s where the performative component gets tricky, I think. Maybe? I don’t even know.

Cassie's avatar

I’ve always struggled with the concept of acceptance. I do like to walk the walk. And you are 100% correct that feels very performative sometimes—I guess fake it til you make it?

A few months ago, a friend and I were talking about this same topic, and she suggested trying to change the language. The word “acceptance” had become so filled with baggage for me.

She suggested the word “surrender,” and for some reason that feels so much more attainable. I know it’s just semantics, but surrender feels like peace to me. Like the way I feel when I’m floating down a lazy river. Good or bad, I’m along for the ride. And I’ll keep on floating either way. I now think I’m closer to true acceptance than ever.

Dr. Talia's avatar

Beautiful, Cassie. Language holds baggage just like you said. If surrender works for you, that’s wonderful

Christine O’Neill's avatar

Cassie this has been my exact experience as well! Surrender is what feels possible right now.

Mary’s concept of the “1.5 space” really resonated too.

I definitely feel I’ve arrived somewhere between surrender and acceptance, with the baggage of the latter holding me back from truly accepting.

Chronicallyfunctional's avatar

Acceptance for me, in large part, was accepting what I could and could not do. Accepting that I only have X number of spoons left that day and not knowing how many I’ll have tomorrow. I stopped getting angry at myself for not being able to do everything I’d like to do, or do little by little vs all at once.

MJ Felt's avatar

In order to get to the acceptance, you have to intersperse through the other stages of grief-especially with a chronic illness. It is when society seems to push the performative acceptance, when all you need is an ability to grieve-no “norms” attached.

Mary Monoky's avatar

I’m really glad it landed the way you hoped. Thank you for writing it the way you did.