Late last year, I went through a difficult break up. Despite a lot of love, things weren’t working on some important levels with me and the woman I was seeing, so we decided to step away from our relationship, and were able to come to a pretty good place together initially. Over the following months, however, through a series of messy interactions, things got progressively less clean, and a part of me that had been comfortable letting go of this relationship was no longer so sure of itself.
I found this part of me clinging to what it no longer had - the intimacy, the camaraderie, all the positives of that connection - and along with that clinging came a sadness, a lack of self worth, and a handful of other rather painful feelings. The usual post-breakup stuff.
At one point, I recall waking up every morning to a deep sense of sadness. The previous day might have been amazing, maybe I did some processing or had a conversation with a friend that totally shifted things and got me excited about the present and the future. It didn’t seem to matter when I woke up, I was swimming in sadness regardless. It was just there - heavy, brooding, intense.
One morning I woke up to this all consuming feeling, and had a realization: I’d been doing various forms of processing, trying to get rid of this sadness. I realized I’d been simply rejecting it, pushing it away, even though I knew better, and it definitely wasn’t going anywhere.
So I decided to do a complete reversal, and started, while still laying in bed, acting as if my sadness was more than welcome, that I actually loved it.
“Oh, sadness, you feel so intense! You’re amazing!” I said internally, to my overbearing emotion. “It’s so cool to experience your strength - it’s like a fine wine, the layers and nuances of all the twisting and churning feelings you wrench through my body! I’m so glad you’re here!”
This was my new approach - over the top excitement and enthusiasm for a feeling that often doesn’t receive such acclaim in the moment of pain.
I proceeded to go for a walk, with the intention of really welcoming and making space for my sadness. I asked it what it wanted or needed, and it didn’t take long for that to become clear: It wanted to love my recent ex. And then the tears started.
I told it that was beautiful, that we can’t actually be with that person, and showed it all of the reasons why, but that didn’t mean it would ever have to stop loving them. More tears flowed.
I explained to it unconditional love - the kind of love that doesn’t need something from the other, that can rejoice in what is without grasping for more.
It didn’t actually care about being with them, all it needed was to feel that it was allowed to experience all the love it had. Not to cling, not to sentimentalize, but to acknowledge the love that had been and was there instead of feeling like the entire experience was bad.
I was amazed, because as I felt/witnessed all of this, I realized that after feeling hurt by my ex, I’d felt the need to push them out, to protect myself and fully own all that was unhealthy about our connection. That was something I’d been looking at deeply, and it was neccessary, but I’d actually closed off my heart in the process. This pure place felt extremely sad and confused that it was not being allowed to acknowledge or celebrate the beauty and sanctity it had been able to experience with this person, and making space for it to simply feel those powerful feelings actually amounted to a big step forward in moving on and letting go.
For the time being, my sadness was totally transformed. I actually stopped having that brooding dense cloud on top of me when I woke up every morning, too. I wasn’t complete in my process, but simply welcoming and entering into a conversation with what I was feeling made a big difference.
This served as a reminder to me of a really basic, fundamental principle in working with emotions: It is wise to not try to simply control or change them. When instead we come with humility - to accept and learn from them, to see what they are telling us, see what they are asking of us, and ally ourselves with their higher purpose - often something very beautiful and enlivening comes forward.
My understanding is that emotions are dynamic - they are meant to flow, to evolve, to restore balance, not to become a frozen, permanent fixture. They are messengers, but what stopped me from receiving this message more gracefully was my old habit of wanting to change how I felt without receiving the wisdom - without actually listening and getting the gift that was there for me within the feeling.
Making It Practical
I wrote a post on emotional processing a couple of years ago, and in it I presented a really simple foundation for exploring and having a dialogue with your feelings.
The first step is of course noticing that you are feeling something (in this case, deep sadness). The second step is making space for that feeling to actually be felt in a conscious way (in that previous post, I called this giving it a voice - but in this example I actually didn’t verbalize anything). This doesn’t need to be any more complicated than it sounds - it just requires turning toward the feeling and welcoming it, then letting it be felt or experienced in a safe container. In situations where intense trauma is present, or in individuals with no previous experience going inward, having a trustworthy mentor, peer, or therapist hold space for this can be key. For many others, though, this can be a very natural, healthy thing to do alone.
Sometimes writing out feelings uncensored on paper is amazing. Sometimes venting them aloud to an empty room is good. In both cases we are giving the emotion movement, giving it the space to express and live in a safe container. To be felt, to be active, and to be witnessed all in a safe way.
In the example above, I accepted the feeling, fully let myself experience it, and decided to act as though its overwhelming grasp on my mind and body were a rarefied, exhilarating experience - like a rollercoaster of the finest order, meant to be appreciated in all its anguish.
The next step (though these steps don’t need to necessarily be in a linear progression), is to hold truth and love for the feelings - or to give them a corrective experience. This involves really listening and often asking questions to discover what it is your feeling wants or needs, and offering a deeply compassionate, supportive, wise presence (from yourself, for yourself).
In this case, I held truth and love by honouring the beauty of what my sadness really wanted at its core (to love someone). I also showed it how actually being with that person isn’t the most loving thing for either of us, but that it can and should go on loving them regardless of those conditions. It showed me what it wanted, and then I gave some subtle mentorship showing it the option of unconditional love - where it could fully celebrate and honour what it loved about that person and that experience, without being shackled to the past or to something harmful. It actually got really excited about that. I’m excited just writing about it!
One of the takeaways for me in all of these types of explorations, is that it’s often less about me outsmarting my feelings than it is about being a gracious steward to them, in the way that a good parent both sets boundaries and rules for their child, but is open to the light and insight their child’s young, fresh spirit brings into the world. We have much to learn from children, and they also count on us to guide and teach them graciously. The same is true of our feelings.
Perhaps the last thought I’ll share here takes from the parent/child analogy: Our ability to hold truth and love for our strong feelings does have a connection to how these elements have been held and mirrored for us during our life. Personally, it wasn’t until a very influential mentor held this kind of support for me over and over across a span of several years that I developed a capacity to do so within myself, for myself. I think that finding people who care for us and are willing to form deeply authentic, supportive connections, is very key to all of this. These people can be exceptional friends, teachers, mentors or therapists.
Turning towards our feelings and having a dialogue with them means we value ourselves, and our feelings, enough to both acknowledge they are there, and then make a space of honour for them in our life. Having others that do this for us already really helps set that tone - they may even point out when we’re not doing it if we’re lucky!
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