“Nothing is quite right, though, if we were forced to admit it, nothing is really wrong either.”

frustrationWell, that little statement by Joan Chittister pretty much sums up most of my waking hours. Chittister is writing about frustration. I don’t know if frustration is a uniquely human experience, but even if other animals share this trait, we have certainly perfected it.

This statement is an apt summary of what I heard from hundreds of psychotherapy clients over the years, clients whose lives would be envied by others, but who were plagued with self-doubt, frustration, and discontent. “I shouldn’t be miserable. I have no real problems to complain about, but I’m miserable anyway.”

Looking at definitions of frustration, I found descriptions of feeling dissatisfied, annoyed, angry or sad, anxious, depressed, but none of the definitions I saw indicated an intense or debilitating level of these states. Instead, frustration seemed to be characterized by low-level, gnawing feelings. That matches my experience. When my frustration gets intense enough, I no longer calling it frustration. By then I’m furious, or really sad, or scared.

Chittister calls it a “systemic discontent with our lives,” a perception that we want something we are not getting, or we are being deprived of something we think we need. I am frustrated because I believe life should be one way, and its’ not. Something should be happening and it’s not. Things should be going a certain way, though I may not be able to tell you what that way is, and they are not. Thus, I’m frustrated.

For the next few days, exploring frustration will be the focus of my Lenten writing. Join me.