The Ring of Fire

Growing up, my family always emphasized positive thinking as the way to get through anything. If you’ve met my parents, you know that they do indeed practice what they preach, and it works for them. They are some of the most fun-loving people I know, and from what I can tell, everyone (including me) loves to be around them. They see the bright side of life, the glass as half full. They are filled with gratitude, optimism and good cheer.

I was not born with this particular outlook on life; I tended to think there was something wrong with me for not being a model of cheerfulness. I always felt like the black sheep of the family. The more I was told to think positively, the more I would feel inadequate and yearn to be different to meet others’ expectations. I must admit to engaging in a lot of biting sarcasm, self-deprecation and bitterness in years past (let’s not even mention high school).

It has taken a LOT of inner work to get to where I am now, which is much more realistic, and, well, more positive. The great news is that I don’t think I “should” be more positive, I just am. I think inspired, optimistic thoughts all the time and actually believe them. Perhaps it’s just maturity. Or years of doing thought work and coaching.

Regardless, my inner world is vastly more pleasant than it used to be. And yet, as I’ve gone through my treatment, I have started noticing deep, old thought patterns that I thought were gone emerge again. They’re pretty dark, and they feel old and childlike, such as:

I can do it myself (channeling my inner two-year old)

I can’t ask for help

I’m too brave and strong to be scared

I don’t want to be a bother

I won’t have what I need

There’s something wrong with me

My “stuff” is coming up at break-neck speed these days, but I am giving myself the gift of not having to DO anything about these negative thoughts except pay close attention to them. In the past, I would have used these thoughts as fodder to beat myself up and feel ashamed. It’s really tempting to do that again, let me tell you, but I’m resisting the temptation.

Instead, I realize I’m smack dab in the middle of what Martha Beck calls the Ring of Fire (Steering by Starlight), which describes the emotional transition from the “Shallows” (the exterior shell of life where we are motivated by external validation, such as money, status, and fame) to the Core of Peace (the oneness of everything, where there is no pain, no fear and no death). The only way to get to the Core of Peace, though, is to go through the Ring of Fire, and that entails grieving unavoidable losses and disbelieving false ideas that cause unnecessary pain. It requires confronting our very self-concept (which is usually based on ideas that we adopted as children that are no longer necessarily true). It is far from pleasant.

I am now grieving the loss of my health (or at least the way I thought of it before) and having to investigate all kinds of old, tired thoughts that have come up to the surface for healing. It is in our nature to avoid pain, so it’s extremely tempting to run back into the Shallows as quickly as possible (yes, I’ll cop to a fleeting thought about moving to a deserted island by myself to avoid imposing on anyone or needing help anymore). But we don’t heal from the Shallows--only from the Core of Peace. Having a framework to recognize this transition process has helped me regain my perspective and dive right in, despite the discomfort. In fact, wading through this particular emotional muck is a necessary part of healing, and my overall health and wellbeing will benefit immeasurably.

So what about you? Have you been through the Ring of Fire? Has a grieving process changed you in ways you could never have anticipated? I’d love to hear what you think of these concepts and how they apply to your life.

Tick Tock

Do you ever experience those periods in which you wish time would move along a little faster? When you want to get to the next stage? You know, that stage—the one when everything will work out and you’ll be happy again?

Perhaps it was during high school when you just wanted to get the heck out of dodge.

Or during your first crappy job when you hated your boss.

When you were single and couldn’t wait to find your soulmate.

Or when your baby was waking you up three times a night, and your sleep deprivation made it unsafe to operate heavy machinery.

Or during your seemingly endless dark night of the soul.

The list goes on…

The first time I intensely experienced the “counting minutes until this sh*t ends” phenomenon was during my MBA because, let’s just call a spade a spade, finance and accounting are just not my thing. Every tick of the clock could not come soon enough.

I’m again undergoing a time period like that right now. I have just under 30 radiation treatments left until I finish my cancer treatment. I am not going to lie, I am really looking forward to when this phase is complete. I’m usually a huge fan of Summer, wanting the warm weather to last forever, but these days I find my mind daydreaming about a radiation-free Fall, despite the cooling temperatures. I try not to count each treatment and mark it off the calendar, but sometimes it’s hard to resist.

What’s common in these experiences? It’s feeling the need to endure the present in order to reach a better future. And if we’re feeling a need to endure, there’s a certain stuckness that goes along with it, as though we have no other options but to stick it out.

About mid-way through my MBA program, in which I enrolled of my own free will, I felt fully stuck. I couldn’t quit (or so I told myself), and yet each class felt like a struggle to pay attention and participate. It turns out that I’m glad I finished, but at the time, it felt like swimming through molasses to show up every day. In terms of radiation, I could have chosen other treatment options, and I could technically quit treatment at any time, so there is some choice in the matter. But it still smells of stuckness. I know this is the best course of action for me right now and I will be back on track to vitality and wellness after it is over, and still, it’s hard not to pine away for the future.

But pining away for a better future? What the HECK? I had cancer (just to emphasize, I HAD cancer, in the past tense—it is so gone now!), so shouldn’t I be even more grateful for my time on this planet? How can I possibly wish time away, when each moment is precious? Shouldn’t we live every day as though it’s our last?

What gives?

This is a tough inner conflict to manage while going through rough patches in our lives. So what to do? Here are the strategies that work for me:

Review your options

The first thing to do when you’re stuggling and wishing time away is to check to make sure there really are no other options. Ask yourself how much of the situation is within your control. Many times we tell ourselves we have no choice, but it’s just a cover story for “I’ve made this choice and now I don’t like it and/or I’m not willing to change course” (but staying the course is still a choice). Review all the decisions you have made to get you to this point. If something really is within your control (like a job or educational experience), you can always make a difference choice. Changing directions may require a lot of effort or come with certain unpleasant consequences, but it is still possible.

Choose the path you are on

If you are experiencing life circumstances that are beyond your control (or have chosen to stay on a path within your control even if it is unpleasant), then the way to eliminate suffering is to choose the path you are on, whether you like it or not. The more we think “this shouldn’t be happening to me,” the more resistance we will experience, and the more endurance we will need to get through it. Endurance takes a lot of valuable energy.

Even if the very worst has happened, acceptance means choosing exactly what we are going through. Take my path, for example. Most people would never choose cancer, right? I sure wouldn’t. And yet, if I am to get through this treatment period with a minimal amount of resistance, I need to choose it. Over and over. Every day. That means accepting the reality of my treatment and choosing it for the very reason that it is happening. Not because I enjoy it, condone it or have some twisted desire to go through this particular experience (or put my family through it). But because if I resist it, I will be wasting energy suffering instead of using that precious energy for healing and recovery. So every day, I make sure to reframe my thoughts from “I have to go to radiation” to “I choose to go radiation.” I am choosing the path that I think will net the best long term results.

Ok, I can just guess what you’re thinking… there’s no way I would choose cancer. Or the death of a loved one. Or any of the awful things that happen all the time. Alright, truth be told, nor would I. I am not suggesting that we start thinking some crisis is the best thing ever. Um, no. What I am saying is that reality always wins, and arguing with it will only cause suffering. (Spiritual teacher Byron Katie’s method, The Work, and her book “Loving What Is” are great resources for working through this process).

Look for ways the path is just right

One question that I ask myself when choosing an unintended or unsavory path is: what is perfect about this? As I wrote in my letter to Cancer, I look at my particular circumstance as a learning opportunity (or Another F*ing Growth Opportunity, as I like to say). I know that somehow it’s exactly right for me because I will learn something valuable that I can then pass along to others. As Byron Katie states, "Everything happens for me, not to me” (Loving What Is, p. 227). Recovering from cancer just happens to be the adventure I’m on right now. So be it.

Give into the negative thought spirals—sometimes—but don’t land there

Trying to be positive when we feel like crap is as much fighting with reality as trying to change circumstances out of our control. The fact of the matter is that sometimes we just feel awful about things, and no amount of thought work, affirmations or positivity is going to help us through it. That’s when it’s time to own that we’re in a dark place and let the negativity rip. One practice that I’ve found extremely helpful is “Conscious Complaining,” which is described in detail by Karla McLaren in her fantastic book, “The Language of Emotions.” It entails finding a private place to complain, all messy and balls-out, without dumping on anyone or expecting anyone to change your feelings. Then whine or complain until you have nothing left to say.

This just happened to me the other day when I got turned around in the maze of campus construction and one-way streets on the way to radiation. I was alone in my car, so I let out all the complaints I could think of about this whole process. (Unfortunately, I can’t say I didn’t dump my feelings on anyone that morning, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect at this stuff). The one thing that really helped while in the muck was telling myself "these are just feelings that will pass. I don't have to land here." And you know what? They did pass, and I felt much lighter after letting them all out.

Do at least one thing you enjoy for its own sake every day

I think this practice is important no matter what's going on in your life, but it's especially critical whil going through a tough time. One of the best things you can do for yourself is something, anything, that you enjoy doing for its own sake. Do it as often as possible, but at least once per day. Just because you like it. The more joy you feel, the better off you’ll be.

Do you like reading? Baking? Walking in the park? Playing with your dog? Yoga? Do whatever it is that brings a smile to your face. Just because. You deserve it.



Photo by Earls37a

Sensory Delight

The week before last I went to Florida for vacation. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of recovering from the flu (me and Jason), preparing for and starting radiation treatment, plus a whole host of things that piled on top of an already intense week, culminating with a bunch of three year olds screaming through the house yesterday to celebrate Lauren’s birthday.

Now that the reality of 36 radiation treatments is setting in, I’m making a conscious effort to stay in the here and now instead of dreading an uncertain and/or potentially unpleasant future. I’m taking the opportunity to revel in what I love about the beach: sheer sensory delight.

At the beach, I was reminded how much my senses luxuriate in the feel of the sand beneath my feet, the sound of the waves crashing, the sparkle of sun reflecting of the water, the smell of salt in the fresh breeze, and the taste of a delicious pina colada. Spending time at the beach is one of my most favorite things to do—it brings me so much joy and satisfaction.

Now that I’m back in land-locked Columbus, Ohio, going to a hospital to climb into a stark machine and get zapped every Monday through Friday for six and a half weeks, what can I do that delights the senses? Well, here are a few ways that I’m focusing my attention to help get through this time period:

• While I am in the machine, I might as well be at the beach because I go there in my mind. I imagine the sand, the waves, the sparkly reflection, the cool breeze.
• When I am done with treatment, I focus on how much time I am not in the hospital. What a treasure to be able to be able to spend 23 hours a day doing exactly what I want. I have so far been able to walk each morning before treatment. I am fortunate to have time in my days to take a nap if I wish. Nice.
• I spend as much time delighting my senses as possible. I listen to the birds outside my bedroom window. I feel the warmth of my kids as they snuggle next to me under a blanket. I eat clean, delicious foods that sustain me and give me energy.
• When I feel overwhelmed with dread or anxiety about it all, I pull out the old “Five Things” practice (see below). It helps every time.

With the 4th of July just around the corner, take the opportunity to delight in your senses—there are plentiful opportunities. Listen to the drums pounding and tubas blaring as they pass by in the parade. Watch the colorful fireworks set against a vast, dark sky. Taste the juicy sweet watermelon. Smell summer in the air. Feel the grass beneath your feet.

Do whatever you can to bring your attention to your senses, which can only be experienced in the present moment. Your senses don’t ruminate. They don’t worry or feel dread. They’re never sad or angry. Each sense provides a pathway between the outside world and your inner experience. The more you slow down and delight in what each sense has to offer, the more rich and meaningful your experience is in each moment.

Five Things Practice

Stop whatever you are doing or thinking about. Begin noticing the space around you, whether you are inside or outside. You can also do this by imagining a pleasant experience in your mind. Then list:

• Five things that you can see in your immediate visual field. If you are imagining a scene, remember the sights as if you were experiencing them in the present. Or if you just want to practice with your eyes closed, list five things that you saw before closing your eyes.
• Five things that you can hear. Focus on each sound at once. Really listen to it. Notice how far the sound has to travel to reach your ear. What qualities does the sound have?
• Five things that you can feel. Notice the contact points with the floor, ground and/or furniture in which you are sitting (if applicable). Notice the air against your skin. Notice if you feel any physical sensations or tension in your body. Notice your breath as it gently moves your ribcage in and out.
• Five things that you can taste and/or smell. This is a little more subtle, so pay close attention. Check to see if the taste in your mouth is different on each side of the tongue. Notice if there are different smells in the room or air.

Allow your awareness to expand and enjoy more and more detailed information from each sense. Remember, there are no wrong answers.



Photo by Emily Cain

The Lizard Who Cried Wolf

Lizard: “What is up with you and this whole ‘rest’ thing? Resting is for sissies. You should get up and get to work. You’ll never make it if you don’t DO something. You might as well give up. No one will like what you have to offer anyway, so why even try.”

Kristin: “Lizard, you’ve told me that 432,957 times before and things have turned out okay. What if I just don’t listen to you this time?”

Lizard: “No, seriously, this time it’s the TRUTH. I mean it. You’ll never accomplish anything if you don’t get off your ass. And then whatever you do won’t work anyway. Failing is serious business. You’ll be embarrassed. You’ll be rejected. You won’t have any friends. You’ll look stupid and incompetent.”

Kristin: “Take a hike, Lizard.”

Lizard: “I’m doing my best to protect you and you don’t even appreciate it. How can I help if you don’t even listen? I know what’s best. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, and I know what I’m talking about.”

Kristin: “Oh, I recognize your wiley reptilian ways. You’re just trying to scare me into staying small and busy, even though inspiration and relaxation (without guilt!) is just what I need right now. I’m not listening to you. See? I can tune you out. [Kristin plugs her ears and screams] LA LA LA LA! You don’t scare me, Mr. Fire-Breathing, Loud-Talking, Mean… Dragon Man. From now on, I’m going to call you Puff! Ha! Take that!”

Lizard: “For real. This time I’m telling you, you do NOT want to put yourself out there. People will not pay attention. They have better things to do. Besides, you have too much competition. What makes you so special, huh? Well, you’re not. You’re just one in six billion. You don’t have anything unique to say anyway. So stay in your house where it’s comfortable. But stay busy because if you don’t, you’re just being lazy and selfish. I am an expert in these matters and I promise, life will be much better this way. I know better than you.”

Kristin: “Maybe you’re right. It probably won’t turn out well. You do seem to know a lot. I believe you. Maybe I’ll just clean my office. Or go out to lunch. Or do whatever I can to stay busy WITHOUT actually accomplishing anything (or relaxing or taking care of myself).”


Kristin: Okay, okay, Lizard. I hear you loud and clear, and I know you’re trying your best to help. Thanks for your input, but I promise I’ve got this one. Now I’m going to work on an inspiring writing project. And then I’ll take a nap. See you on the flip side.”

Cast:

The role of Lizard is played by Kristin’s reptilian brain, which refers to the part of the brain that first evolved in early vertebrates to broadcast survival alarms and catalyze the fight or flight response. These days, we coaches like to call it the “inner lizard” (thank you Martha Beck) because it is still sounds alarms in the form of a constant stream of fear-based thoughts, even though we might be sitting on the couch and eating bon bons.

The role of Kristin is played by herself.

Moral of the story: your mind will use every trick in the book to convince you that you’re not enough and you’re doomed. These thoughts are not the truth, and you do NOT have to believe them.


Photo by esculturas inflables xl

UN-Winding Old Habits

In this culture, if you’re not capable, competent and able to take care of yourself, what are you? We value doing, right? Being productive. Getting shit done. Checking things off the never-ending to do list. Taking care of people. Being busy. It’s become part of our DNA.

If we’re not doing, then we fear that we’re nothing. Lazy. Selfish. Unproductive. A waste of energy.

It seems as though our worth is tied up with our ability to produce. When we’re busy, it makes us feel like we’re contributing (even if all we’re doing is distractedly jumping from task to task without actually completing anything—um, guilty). When we check things off our list, we feel like valuable members of society. As long as we’re busy, the wolves won’t get us.

I believe that many health issues are our bodies’ way of accomplishing what we need (whether we’re conscious of that need or not) but for whatever reason do not give ourselves. Have you ever had a cold and realized later that what you really needed was a break? Perhaps your body was giving you just that.

In my case, cancer is giving me a big fat excuse (read: health imperative) to SLOW DOWN and RELAX. But relaxing—as a new way of being, not just a pina colada sipped on the beach during vacation—was not something I would have given myself before this rather loud wake-up call. In fact, I was used to packing about 10 times more into my schedule than I could realistically accomplish every day. I would take on new projects without really assessing whether they were a good fit. I was late all the time because I didn’t want to waste valuable minutes by arriving somewhere early (I could have used those minutes to do something else!).

So what happens when our ability to do is threatened or, worse, incapacitated?

Well, perhaps a bit less gets done, but that isn’t really the issue, is it? If it were just about the to-do list itself, it would be rather easy to deal with. I could rely on others or just live with the undone (ok, I already do some of that—hence the unfolded laundry piling up). But, as with most anything, when our way of being is flipped on its head for one reason or another, a whole lot of unprocessed “stuff” comes up. Beliefs about how things should be. Beliefs about ourselves. Guilt. Anxiety.

Being a mind/body coach helps give me a clue as to why I feel so uncomfortable without my security blanket of doing, but it doesn’t make it any easier, I assure you.

UN-Winding

I am taking on the challenge of un-winding a whole slew of busyness habits that aren’t serving me. Un-winding habits is what I help clients do, so it’s good to take a dose of my own medicine. The following points are like coaching 101, but the methods are so essential that they bear repeating, no matter how many times you’ve heard them:

• Challenge outdated thoughts and belief systems that keep old habits stuck in place. This is like clearing out the clutter of a house to make room for beautiful new furniture. It is tiresome and somewhat unpleasant to assess everything and decide what stays, move the outdated stuff, figure out where to put everything, and finally sweep up all the dust bunnies. For me, this means assessing all the thoughts that have me wanting to stay busy. For example:
o I should be doing more
o I’m not okay if I’m not busy
o There’s so much to do
o I can’t let people down
o I should be able to do it myself
o I can do one more thing

• Replace old thoughts with new, better-feeling thoughts. The trick here is to replace old thoughts with new ones that feel slightly better but are still true. This is vastly different from just trying to think positively (the positive thoughts would probably feel great, if only we believed them!). The newness of changing our thoughts feels awkward and clunky at first. But with practice, it starts to feel like home. Here are my replacement thoughts:
o I should be doing more > more is overrated
o I’m not okay if I’m not busy > it’s okay to rest
o There’s so much to do > there’s so much to be
o I can’t let people down > I can’t let me down
o I should be able to do it myself > I can’t do everything
o I can do one more thing > I can sit down for just five minutes

• Ride the waves of feelings without getting caught up in the story. I’m now convinced that staying busy is a way to avoid feeling (as is compulsive eating or spending, alcoholism, etc.). Now that this “anesthesia,” isn’t available to me, all I’m left with is the feelings I’ve been working so hard to avoid. So, as with most things, the only way out is through. I need to actually feel the feelings. Sadness for not being able to do what I usually can. Fear that my energy won’t return. Guilt for not contributing as much in the household. Confusion about knowing which habits to tackle first. Anger for having to deal with the whole situation in the first place.

• Breathe.

• Stay grounded. For this, I draw on my yoga background and do the pose called Tadasana, or Mountain pose. Feel the “four corners” of the feet. Place the pelvis directly over the heels so the weight is in the heels instead of the toes. Imagine roots going down into the center of the earth. Soft knees. Drop the shoulder blades, as if putting them in back pockets. Long spine. This is about taking a stand—for my health, my wellbeing, my values. From this position, I can handle anything.

• Incorporate new, healthier habits in baby steps. For example, I have been meditating in the morning for a while now (this habit took six years to fully adopt—yes, six), but I have been intending to meditate at night too because I think more relaxation would really help right now. I kept avoiding starting this new habit because getting 15-20 minutes of alone time in the evening seemed selfish and indulgent when there was dinner to make, dishes to be done, baths to give, stories to be read, etc. So I bit off the very smallest chunk of time I could muster—just a few mintues—to spend some time un-winding. Instead of thinking of it as meditation (which feels a little too official and forced), I call it a re-boot. I lay down. I breathe. I allow my body to slow down, engaging the relaxation response (the opposite of the fight or flight response). I don’t keep a timer or anything rigid. I let it feel delicious, instead of like an obligation. When I feel like I've had enough, I get up. Sometimes it’s one minute and sometimes it’s 10. I return feeling rejuventated and ready for the evening. Someday I might do more, or I might not. Baby steps.

Un-winding habits is not easy, but with stakes as high as they are for me, I’m taking stock and starting to make some important changes. What about you? Do you have a habit of being busy all the time? What is your busyness costing you? What would it take for you to slow down?

Photo by Patrick Brian

Another Step Forward

If you’ve ever been through a healing process of any kind, whether from an injury, surgery, a divorce or loss of a loved one, you know that physical or emotional healing is not linear. It feels as though it is two steps forward and one step back most of the time. This is how it’s been for me since my surgery a few weeks ago. I get my energy back and start feeling really good and then I push a little too hard and BOOM, I’m back on the couch for a day or two, feeling less than stellar.

My mind wants my body to be fully recovered. Although I’m pretty good at listening to my body, my mind can be pretty darned convincing. It consistently tries to override the signals I get from my body. For example, this past weekend, I planted flowers in the morning and ran a few errands in the afternoon on Sunday. It was nothing too crazy, but once I came home, my energy was low and my first thought was that I wanted to sit down for a while. Within mere moments, my mind kicked into gear with a familiar pattern, the gist of which goes something like this: I can do just this one more thing and then sit down later. I need to do [insert task] because [insert person] wants [insert result] and I wouldn’t want them to feel [insert uncomfortable feeling].

Sound familiar?

The bottom line is that I do lots of tasks hoping to please other people or feel the familiarity of being “productive” at the expense of taking care of myself. Niiiiiicccee. But these days, when I’m miserable on the couch a few hours later because I didn’t heed the whisper to sit the heck down, my body is talking back.

Why, you may ask? Well, here are a few of my reasons:

• I want to make other people’s lives easier. I’ll often trade my inconvenience for their convenience, especially if they’re ultimately doing something to help me (more on that topic later).

• I want to contribute. I want to do what I can to make another person’s experience better.

• Being productive feeds my self-worth. I feel more valuable when I’m doing something. And I don’t think I’m alone. This culture values busyness over almost anything else.

• I don’t want to be seen as selfish or lazy.

• I don’t want to feel guilty while someone else does something I think I should be able to do.

I would guess that most people have a fundamental value to be of service to others. And most people want to do things for their family members and society as a whole. I am certainly not questioning these values. What I’m talking about is much more insidious than that. It’s going way past our own limits in the name of being of service, and who wants that? It’s the opposite of self-care.

So what to do? I’m still on a pretty significant learning curve here, but I’m starting to recognize when when my energy starts to wane and my body starts telling me to slow down. Instead of considering it “one step back” (which upholds the “I should be productive!” way of thinking), I’m actually starting to think of it as an invitation to rest. It’s another step forward, in the direction of health and healing.

Resting is something that is rather hard to do, at least for me. But it is absolutely the most important thing I can do right now because my body heals best when it’s relaxed and free of tension. This is requiring a radical change in the way I think. I'm up for the challenge.

Riding the Wave

I was all set to finalize a post I’ve been working on about the extreme irony about the treatment decision I’ve made (lumpectomy and radiation – be careful about what you resist because it does persist!). But, I’ve decided to delay that post in favor of a new topic that seems to be bursting out of me. Sometimes the material writes me, I swear.

Anyway, the topic that wants my attention now is what it’s like to ride waves of emotion without drowning in them. Do you know what I mean by drowning in emotion? Like how feelings are sometimes so strong that you think you’ll never feel any other way? Well, yesterday was just one of those days. I was on an emotional roller coaster all day long. Normally, the darkness of “uncomfortable” emotions would zap me of all my energy, and I would end up feeling ashamed on top of everything, thinking I should have handled things differently. This time, however, I was able to pay attention and observe my experience as though I was watching a movie, and I learned a lot. Allow me to explain…

Most of the time since my diagnosis, I’ve been feeling pretty centered. I’ve actually surprised myself at how much better I feel than I would have expected. I am acutely aware of how much all the inner work I’ve done has helped me and how much I’ve grown. A few years ago, I think this diagnosis would have caused me to turn into a giant sphere of panic. But now, instead of letting my mind go crazy with unhelpful thoughts about impending doom, I’m able to recognize a big fat story in my mind (say, for instance, about the horrors of radiation), and and turn it into something much more grounded and, for that matter, true. I have had moments of freak out, for sure, but overall I’ve remained pretty darned calm.

Until yesterday.

I was trying to get the girls ready for school. After what seemed like a year of rainy days, Clara looked at the dreary weather and asked, in her most plaintive voice, for a snuggly “stay home day.” There’s nothing like a little mommy guilt to get the morning started (I should stay home with them! I’m selfish to take them to daycare on a day like this!). So I indulged some extra play time before taking them to daycare. After a typical round of arguing over toys, yelling mixed with a dose of whining, and some good old fashioned stalling, my patience had finally worn thin, and I got mad. I shoved Lauren’s coat forcefully into her backpack and accidentally hit my finger (with what, I have no idea). I hit it really hard. And it hurt. A lot.

Interesting how physical pain can open the door to smoldering emotional pain that has been trapped beneath the surface, just waiting to be released. The proverbial floodgates had opened, and I started crying. And crying. And crying.

The girls got quiet and said, “mommy, I’m sorry.” That brought on another wave of guilt, as I tried my best to reassure them that it was not their fault. It was just that mommy was scared and sad and uncertain and generally emotional. (They know I’m going to the hospital next week, but they don’t know all the gory details.)

When I dropped them off and got back into the car, I experienced another wave of tears. And when I got home, another. This time, I was finally alone in a place where I could just let myself emote freely. I sat on the couch with a blanket and cried for the better part of an hour. I felt wave after wave of extreme sadness.

My first inclination was to analyze my feelings by putting words to them. Perhaps you’ve done this too: “Why am I feeling this way? What is wrong with me? What is going on here?” We tend to think a feeling isn’t valid until we find a reason for it. I was falling into the same trap. But that’s what it is, a trap. Because you can’t THINK your feelings. You need to FEEL them.

I noticed myself starting to analyze what was going on and realized that finding just the right reason for my sadness wasn’t actually going to help me feel the sadness. And the only way for it to pass completely (and not get stuck) is to feel it. So I made a conscious effort to do just that, without changing a thing. I observed what was going on in my body (sunken chest, ache in my heart, shallow breathing, tears welling up, tension around my eyes). I watched my thoughts as they passed on by. I allowed the sadness to get as big as the room so I could study how it affected me.

What a gift I gave myself: I didn’t stuff my feelings, diminish them, minimize them, rationalize them or avoid them. And I didn’t get overtaken by them. I just felt them. I told myself, this is what sadness feels like. I can do sadness. Oh, and there’s the fear and uncertainty. I can do those too.

Wow, what a difference from how I’ve dealt with my emotions in the past. This time I felt cleansed instead of miserable. Relieved instead of depressed. So I started thinking about how I can remember to do this all the time, and I came up with a little tool that really helped me. I hope it helps you too:


NOW ON WAVE

Notice – At any point along the wave of emotion, you will become aware that something is up. It may be at the beginning of the wave or you may already be halfway through a pint of ice cream before you notice anything. No matter, just start paying attention.
Open – Open the door to the feeling. Breathe.
Welcome – Welcome the feeling, even if it’s uncomfortable. Remember, it’s just a feeling. It will pass, as would any wave.

Observe – Observe how your thoughts want to distract you. They invite you to get wrapped up in their drama (“I have no right to feel this way. I don’t have time for this right now. I can’t cry in front of other people. I’m going to eat a bag of potato chips. Etc. Etc.”). Don’t fall for it. Put them aside for now—you can always come back to them. Start paying attention to what you’re feeling instead. Observe what happens in your body. Get curious.
Name – Start naming your experience. This is where you can use your analytical skills, but do so sparingly. First name the feeling (start with mad, sad, glad or scared). Then identify short descriptions of what you are feeling in your body (using feeling words, like hot, cold, tingly, tight, flat, etc.). For example, “I feel angry. My body temperature is rising. I feel tightness and heat in my neck and shoulders. My belly is clenched.”

Watch – Keep watching. When you are in the position of “watcher,” or observer, you can’t also be an actor in the drama.
Allow – Give yourself freedom to feel whatever is there. Give it space.
Veer – Direct your attention toward the worst part of the feeling, instead of away from it. Acknowledge the feeling as though it were a child wanting your attention. Hello, I see you.
Expand – Let the feeling get huge. Allow it to fill the whole room so you can study what it feels like. Keep watching it as it travels and changes. Watch as it finally dissipates and subsides. Then you’re work is done.

Do this exercise as often as needed. The more you do it, the better you will get at it.

Photo by hakahonu