You Are Not How You Feel: 8 Ways to Create Space With Your Emotions

It’s been a tumultuous week in this country. Emotions are running high and are leaking out like steam under pressure, burning those caught in its path. Anger, fear and doubt are butting heads with celebration, optimism and certainty.

The yoga class I attended this morning ended with a lovely meditation on loving detachment. We so easily identify with our feelings. “I’m scared, therefore this must be dangerous.” “I’m sad, so this loss must be catastrophic.” “I’m angry and you must have done something to provoke that.”

Yet even though we feel these things, we are not these things.

And just because we experience these feelings, it does not mean that they are true.

When we are too close with our emotions, we become perceptively impaired, listening to what is bubbling up from within rather than observing what is around.

Great peace can come from taking a step back, creating space between you and your feelings. Not to deny them or to judge them, but to notice them and accept them.

It’s the difference between standing out in the storm and watching the deluge through the window.

Here are ten ideas on how to come in out of the rain:

1 – Write From a 3rd Party Perspective

When big life stuff happens, we often identify with it. Allow it to curl up and nestle in our hearts like a cat by a hearth. We become that thing that happened. The betrayed. The abandoned. The lost.

I felt all of those things at first. Saw myself as all of those things. And I was tired of it. In a moment of desperation, I turned to my journal and wrote my story, not as myself, but as a 3rd party looking in.

The shift of perspective meant that I couldn’t describe the feelings, only the physical manifestation of the emotions. Instead of waxing on about the pain, I could only comment on the anemic and hollow look in my eyes.

The exercise was so effective at separating me from the overwhelming emotion that I turned to it often during that first year. It was a powerful way to remind me that even though I felt these things, I was not these things.

2 – Pay Attention to the Physical Sensations

Emotions can be elusive. Trying to identify and name them can sometimes feel like trying to catch smoke with a butterfly net. It’s often easier to pay attention to the physical manifestation of certain emotions. The tightness. The shaking. The exhaustion. The upset stomach. The headaches.

Strive to become an expert at recognizing and interpreting your own body’s way of communicating with you. And if that underlying emotion is still too much to face, try addressing it indirectly by attending to the physical manifestations. It’s amazing how much interfering with that feedback loop can help.

3 – Remind Yourself of the Fallibility of Your Emotion

Have you ever been completely worked up about somebody’s response before you even initiate the conversation? *raises hand with a sheepish smile* Your emotions running as wild as a two-year-old on a sugar high? And then the conversation happens. And maybe the response you expected occurs or maybe it doesn’t. But you find, with surprise, that you’re not nearly as reactive as you anticipated.

In some ways, our emotions are quite smart. They prick up their ears when something doesn’t feel right, giving us a warning of impending and subtle danger. They buzz with uneasy energy when things are off kilter and vibrate with anticipation when things are in alignment.

Yet in other ways, our emotions have the intelligence of a guppy. They don’t always learn from experience and they fail to temper their intensity with reason.

In those moments when you’re codependent with your emotional state, remind yourself of those times when your emotions were not an accurate representation of reality and allow yourself the idea that perhaps they are exaggerating now.

4 – Practice Mindfulness

Meditation. Prayer. Repetitive exercise. It doesn’t matter the modality as long as the intent is to practice being in the moment and learning to become at ease with stillness and the twinges of discomfort.

Mindfulness teaches us that emotions come and go. It helps to promote an acceptance of the limitations of control. It reminds us that even though we have limited domain over what enters our mind, we can choose to be a quiet observer. It teaches us to focus on one breath at a time, using rhythm and repetition to soothe. Mindfulness trains us to find the center of calm in a mind wracked with storms.

5 – Name Your Feelings

Once you name something, you have gained a level of understanding of that thing and a sense of perspective. When you’re standing in an emotional storm, seek to identify and name the feelings that you’re having. Not in a judgemental way, but more out of quiet detachment – “Oh, this is loneliness.”

You don’t have to do anything with the feeling. Just recognizing it helps you to see it as a separate entity and it promotes a greater sense of control.

6 – Find Your People

When my divorce happened, I remember believing that I had to be the only person with this experience and with these feelings.

Oh, was I ever wrong.

I felt misunderstood in my usual group of friends and family because there, I was the only one with this particular tale. So I cast a wider net, looking for others that had been through the same. Looking for my people.

And I found them. Unfortunately, more than I ever imagined.

By listening to and reading their stories, I learned that these emotions that seemed so personal were actual a common reaction. And I found comfort in those stormy days in the thought that others had felt this too.

7 – Make Lighthearted Fun

Humor has an immense power to disarm even the most potent foe. When your emotions are beating you down, try making fun of them in a lighthearted way. It shifts your mind and reminds you that it’s usually not all that serious (even when your emotions are trying to tell you otherwise).

8 – Talk it Out

When we try to hide all of our emotion, to lock it away in a deep, dark cupboard, we send ourselves the message that our feelings are something to be ashamed of. And shame is a powerful and malignant force.

Bringing your emotions to light in a safe space helps to provide some distance between you and your feelings. You are no longer responsible for trying to keep them hidden away. Instead, you can let them out where the illumination helps to promote understanding.

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Remember, you are not the storm.

You are simply the observer.

The sun is always there within you.

 

Bad Things Happen When You Aim Instead of Throw

“Bad things happen when you aim instead of throw.”

I heard this quote on NPR during some story on MLB pitchers. I missed the rest of broadcast as my mind made sense of those words, mental fingers untangling the knot of words.

I’ve been working through a meditation series on anxiety the past month and trying to become better in my “real life” of implementing the mediation strategy of “noting.” This particular series encourages a two-step noting process, where you first identify if you’re thinking or feeling and then further recognize the quality of your thought or feeling – positive, negative or neutral.

And it’s been eye-opening.

The thoughts that tend to cloud my vision are almost entirely of one particular variety. So much so that I added a third option to step one: thinking, feeling or planning.

I barely ever note the first two. The third? It’s a constant note, as though I’m stuttering. Planning. Planning. Planning.

Planning how I’m going to approach this one concept with my 6th graders. Planning when I need to do laundry so that it doesn’t interfere with my other plans. Planning what to wear the next day. And the next. Planning to plan my grocery list. I even find myself planning to return to the breath, once I finish planning of course.

Ugh.

It has a neutral tone, there’s no sense worry or concern in it. But it’s obviously rooted in anxiety, a need to think and strategize for every possible outcome.

I’m aiming ten times for every one throw.

And that’s not good.

In my chosen career as a teacher, I have to plan. This year, with three accelerated preps, I have to PLAN. My days are scheduled down to the minute and I have to plan how to fill every one of them with meaningful content and activities.

When I first started teaching, my plans were rigid. Every detail was fully thought out prior to the start of the day and I would get flustered when an unplanned fire drill unexpectedly eroded away half of second period.

Over time, I grew to trust myself and my instincts in the classroom. My well-written plans dissolved into brief words jotted down in a sequential list or placed into small calendar squares. The mental work still happened, lessons being tweaked in the shower or thrown out on the morning drive, but the obsessiveness about the detail faded as I grew more confident with my abilities and insights.

I relaxed into the planning more, less worried about a forgotten photocopy or dropped detail. I knew that it wasn’t the end of the world. I was aiming and throwing in relatively equal measure.

And then this year happened. And with it, my trust in myself unhappened.

My planning has become all-consuming. Partly of of necessity. And partly (hey, 80% is still part! 🙂 ) from what I put on myself.

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My daily reminder list. I often neglect the last point. My students help remind me:)

At work, I’m succeeding.

In my life, I’ve been too busy aiming.

Duly noted.

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For my fellow math geeks:)

What Happens When You Get What You Want?

Imagine the situation –

Jackie had been extremely heavy her entire life. She tried one diet after another, but nothing seemed to work for long. She faced ridicule, social consequences and health problems because of her excess weight. All she dreamed about was reaching and maintaining a normal size, a size that didn’t hold her back from the life she wanted to have. And so when she was eventually approved for gastric bypass surgery after years of trying, she was elated. Finally, she thought, I will be free of this burden!

But as recent research demonstrates, it’s not quite that easy. Yes, patients that undergo gastric bypass lose the weight and often keep it off. Yet as their physical health improves, their mental health may decline, leading to an increased risk of suicide following the procedure.

At first glance, this makes no sense. The societal consequences of obesity are well documented and it seems logical that the patient receives more positive attention after surgery. An increase in self-confidence would be expected as a lifelong goal was reached and it’s easy to imagine an increase in overall well-being as limitations due to weight are lifted.

So why is it that after finally getting what they want, gastric bypass patients are more likely to take their lives?

It’s because of what happens after we get what we want.

The human brain has evolved to make sense of complex situations. One of the ways this is accomplished is by distilling complicated matters into a short list of easily understood bullet points. This trait usually serves us well as we learn algorithms and shortcuts that help us with everything from mathematical processes to the best route to take to work.

But when it comes to happiness, this attribute fails us. We all too easily blame our unease or our despondency on one single thing – our job, our marriage, our finances and yes, our weight. All of the negative feelings are assigned to that one scapegoat, along with a focus of eliminating or altering that designated fall guy from our lives.

And as long as that blamed thing remains unchanged, we have hope. Hope that once that thing changes, it will create a vacuum where happiness will pour in.

But when we get what we want? When we secure the dream job, lose the hapless spouse, improve our bottom line or finally get that firm bottom and the expected happiness doesn’t materialize?

We can begin to lose hope.

Because that single distilled bullet point, that one thing that we had been so focused on, didn’t lead to the expected changes. It’s a letdown. Sometimes a devastating one.

Of course the reality is that it was never really about that one thing anyway. You can be miserable in a good job or happy in a miserable one. A struggling marriage can certainly impact your well-being, but it is never the only factor on your overall outlook. Financial security can help to cushion life, but as we all have heard, it can’t buy happiness. And as for the weight, I have heard so many now-thin people say, “I’m still a fat girl/boy in here,” as they sadly pat their hearts.

All of this doesn’t mean that achieving your desired life is impossible.

It just means that it doesn’t end  – or begin – with getting what we want.

To prevent that letdown after getting what you want (presented in an ironic short list of bulleted points 🙂 ),

  • Be realistic about the impact that one thing has on your overall well-being. Don’t over-assign blame.
  • Be careful not to shirk responsibility. Happiness is an inside job. No outward change will be sufficient.
  • Plan for the reduction in focus/momentum after obtaining your desire. Have something at the ready for your attention.
  • Accept that achieving your optimal satisfaction is an ongoing process with a multitude of moving targets. Keep practicing.
  • Don’t put too much importance on getting what you want. After all…

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101 Completely Normal Thoughts to Have During Divorce

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  1. My life is over.
  2. So this is what feeling gutted feels like.
  3. The bed feels so empty. Cold.
  4. There’s nobody to complain about crumbs in the bed. Cookies!
  5. Ugh. Now I’m bloated and still sad.
  6. Am I going to be alone forever?
  7. I could sell everything and leave the country. Start over on some beach somewhere.
  8. But that’s too much work. It’s hard enough just to get the weekly groceries.
  9. Besides, that was the dream we had together.
  10. Jerk.
  11. I want to kill my ex.
  12. I want my ex back.
  13. No, scratch that. I want my ex to want me back so that I can tell them to screw off.
  14. What am I going to tell people?
  15. I wish I had a publicity agent like Jolie and Pitt to handle that.
  16. But then I’d have cameras in my face during all of this.
  17. Ugh. My face is all puffy and pale.
  18. Can I hibernate until this is over? Pretty please?
  19. Or maybe I’ll wake up and discover that all of this was just a nightmare.
  20. Is it normal to feel this way?
  21. When am I going to feel better? I’m so tired of this.
  22. What if that’s it? What if that was the best I’ll ever have and it’s all downhill from here?
  23. God, I’m such a cliché.
  24. Nobody understands what I’m feeling.
  25. At least my lawyer is looking out for me.
  26. What!?! $850 for an email response and a single phone call.
  27. My lawyer is evil.
  28. I could sell all of the evidence of our married life on eBay to help pay for all this.
  29. It’s all sh*t.
  30. Where did all these happily coupled people come from???
  31. No really, it’s like they’re extras hired from some movie set brought in specifically to torture me.
  32. Love sucks.
  33. I’m going to be single and strong and independent forever. Screw this love thing.
  34. I’m lonely.
  35. When did the nights get so long?
  36. I am so tired.
  37. I need to make more of an effort.
  38. Am I too old to wear this now?
  39. Hmmm… my butt still looks pretty good.
  40. You know, I’m going to get to have sex with a new person.
  41. Sh*t! I’m going to have to have sex with a new person.
  42. I better start exercising.
  43. Tomorrow.
  44. Why have my friends distanced themselves?
  45. It’s like they think divorce is contagious.
  46. Wait, that one couple friend of our broke up last year.
  47. Maybe it is catching.
  48. I certainly feel like I’m in quarantine.
  49. I don’t need those friends anyway. Their lives are so boring.
  50. I can now completely reinvent myself.
  51. Maybe I’ll quit my job. Go all bohemian.
  52. Bucket list! Here I come!!!
  53. I miss my old life.
  54. Why does it take something this big to provide perspective?
  55. God, I’m so dumb.
  56. I wonder if I’m even capable of being in a working relationship?
  57. And now I have baggage. A scarlet “Damaged” sign.
  58. Ugh.
  59. Look! The sun’s out today!
  60. Oh, I guess it’s been out. I just noticed it. I need to get better about that.
  61. Tomorrow.
  62. So this is why self-help is so popular.
  63. I guess I’m not the only to feel this way.
  64. Good to know.
  65. Still sucks, though.
  66. I’m tired of people telling me it will be okay.
  67. My okay is being legally dissolved at a rate of $350 per hour.
  68. Why didn’t I become a lawyer?
  69. What do I do now?
  70. No, really. Somebody please tell me what to do.
  71. Wait! Am I being checked out?
  72. That feels good.
  73. Oh no. They’re walking over. I’m not ready for this.
  74. Woah. I haven’t felt that rush since prom.
  75. But this feels wrong. Like I’m cheating.
  76. I miss my ex.
  77. I wonder if my ex is thinking about me?
  78. Oh sh*t! What if someone is checking them out???
  79. I should check their Facebook.
  80. Why did I do that?
  81. How are they so happy?
  82. It’s not fair.
  83. I’m going to show them!
  84. This smile feels fake. I wonder if there’s a filter that will make it look real in the picture?
  85. I just want this to be over.
  86. But what does that even mean???
  87. I’m such a mess.
  88. I’m starting to get used to all of the extra space in the bed and not having to share the covers.
  89. If I ever marry again, I’ll have to have my own bed.
  90. Or not. I miss feeling a warm arm around me.
  91. Well, that’s that. The papers are signed. I’m officially unknotted.
  92. Why am I sad? I’ve been waiting for this day.
  93. Now what do I focus on?
  94. I shouldn’t have checked their Facebook page again.
  95. But it didn’t sting quite as badly this time.
  96. Looking at it now it’s a little blurry. A little distant.
  97. I guess that’s good.
  98. So why do I still feel sad?
  99. Still, look at all I’ve managed to get through.
  100. I’m pretty bada$$.
  101. I think I’m going to be okay.

Is Love Worth the Risk?

This piece – Will I Ever Trust Again? – is making the Facebook rounds. The responses to the question? “Nope.” “Never.” “Unfortunately, no.” The comments garnered share a common theme, that the potential benefits of trusting again are not worth the inevitable risk.

And trusting again after betrayal is a risk. Loving again after loss invites insecurity. You can approach it like an actuary, performing calculations of risk assessment to determine the prudent course of action.

I completely understand that urge. In fact, it’s my natural tendency to analyze these things and behave in a way to mitigate risk (case in point – I struggle to even play a nickel slot machine).

But when it comes to trust, to love, I’ve made the decision to approach it in a manner contrary to my inclination.

And it’s all because of watching one woman who loves without limits or qualifiers.

My friend, Sarah, was the one who took me in after my marriage imploded. She and her husband had just brought home an adopted baby – sick and premature – and yet there was no hesitation to let me in.

And I’m watching her in complete admiration now, almost 8 years later, as she navigates the adoption process again.

The baby this time is even more premature than her first, living in a NICU an entire state away. Nothing is certain right now. The adoption process is not finalized and his health, as with most NICU babies, is a rollercoaster of stats and emotions.

But none of that enters into Sarah’s calculations. In the pictures she sends me of this tiny and fragile body nestled against her chest, you can see the unbridled love in her face. This is her child. She is in love. No limits. No walls.

Yes, it’s a risk. Yet in her mind, it’s also not a choice. She understands that love is not something that can be analyzed and controlled. You either submit to it or you don’t experience it.

She didn’t know it, but she was mentor in this that year I lived with her. She had taken a similar risk with her first child, now a happy and healthy 7-year-old. Hell, she took a risk with me, allowing someone in crisis to enter her home and her family and such a critical time.

And during those months, when all I wanted was for the pain to go away and to seal the doors against any possibility of it returning, I watched her. And I began to understand that I had a choice to make.

I could refuse to take that risk. To never again place my faith in someone else. To never again allow someone unfettered access to my heart. It would certainly prevent that pain from ever visiting again.

And then I would see Sarah with her daughter. The rewards that come from taking that risk.

And I knew that I wanted to take that risk again.

I don’t know that I won’t be betrayed again. Gutted again.

But I do know that if I didn’t take the risk, that I would have never felt love again.

And in this case,  I’d rather take a risk than a guarantee.