The Power of Feeling
And the paralysis of overthinking.
When did you last feel shame?
It’s been years. I’d really have to think. I’m so lucky that I can’t even remember when. But God I used to feel it all the time. Shame would bring my blood to a simmer, making my arms rise from my core. As the temperature rose, it would burn my back and face, eventually bursting out of my skin. Little did I know that just a few minutes after my new-fling asked me that question, I would be forced to experience shame for the first time in years.
I’m so grateful. So proud of myself. Can I brag? I should brag because I begged multiple therapists for help but ultimately had to figure it out for myself. Tears would flood down my face in sessions as they’d hand me a box of tissues and I’d say, “don’t worry about me, I’m just a crier.” Permission for them to push me anyway. Hoping they wouldn’t flinch from my feelings just like everyone else in my life had.
When I was younger, shame would consume me whenever I felt vulnerable and made me weep. I would cry telling a teacher I forgot my homework. Or telling any adult if I did something “wrong”. One time I cried when I told my best friends mom that I had to leave a birthday party early. Even if I wasn’t getting in trouble, I would cry just for bringing any attention to myself that was anything less than over the top delight. Fear and insecurities consumed me, and having to voice such to other people pummeled me like a firehose.
In my mid-twenties, I remember trying to explain to my therapists what the problem was. My feelings would get so big that I couldn’t think clearly. My mind and body ran with them and I felt unable to grasp any aspect of reality. Even when my first therapist would help me make a plan to rationally walk through a stressful situation, eventually my emotions would get the best of me. Exploding was the only way I could find relief, and it often led to me lash out at others. Crying made me feel weak, but fighting made me feel powerful. But eventually I realized that I was hurting others for no good reason other than to avoid feeling vulnerable and weak. I tried to explain to my therapists that I was hurting other people, and instead of believing me they just validated my anger toward the other parties transgressions.
Left to my own devices, I thought that if I just tried to understand my triggers and emotions better, I would stop exploding. I can’t believe how much of my life I’ve spent trying to understand things that distress me. I’ve spent years overanalyzing every social interaction and relationship I’ve ever had. Filled my leisure time listening to youtube videos, podcasts, and audiobooks to help explain the behaviors of others so I could better understand them myself. But eventually I realized that I was not “learning” or “growing”, I was obsessed. A mental health field that centered psychoanalysis and cognitive behavioral therapy enabled me to believe that a depth of understanding would provide me relief. But instead, it just enabled me to be consumed by my anxieties.
How do I stop ruminating? I begged one therapist. I was looking for tools, but as usual she just validated me. I was beyond needing validation. There was nothing more to understand about myself. No more compassion that I could give. I knew my feelings were valid. Knowing such didn’t stop them from completely consuming me. Why did no therapist understand the intensity of my emotions and my desperation for relief?
Then one day, one of my brilliant eating disorder clients shared something that she learned in therapy. She said, “An eating disorder thought is no different than an eating disorder behavior. It does the same thing.” Whoa!!!! I’m so lucky when my clients get to teach me.
Let me explain. When we experience extreme levels of distress, it is often easier to avoid the feeling as opposed to experiencing it. The problem with avoiding feelings of distress is that it prevents us from experiencing our bodies self-regulation cycle. Just like a summer rain storm, once our feelings swell to the point of saturation, they release. That release literally helps relax us, providing a break from our emotions. But if we cut ourselves off from feeling our feelings too early, we get stuck in them even if we don’t notice. It’s a lot like when a rainstorm is moving so slowly that it takes multiple days to hit. You get stuck in unbearable humidity for days. So much its hard to think, breathe, move, or even sleep. It’s not until the air is fully saturated that the release of the rainstorm finally comes, and its much easier for everyone to breathe.
Crying works very similarly. As feelings build, we may start to feel tension build in our body. Pressure builds in our head and our eyes begin to swell. But if we allow ourselves to cry, our tears release oxytocin and endogenous opioids to relieve our pain and make us feel more relaxed! That’s why so many of us feel better after crying. If a person tries to hold back the tears, our body never goes through its built-in emotional regulation cycle. We may no longer be consciously noticing the stressor, but the stress built up in our body will impact us in other ways. The feelings may even build, and because this individual does not have conscious awareness of their feelings, they may seek out unhealthier tools to find relief.
I may not have understood the science, but by my early 20’s I intuitively noticed that crying gave me so much relief. I let it come, and would give a heads up to doctors, bosses, and therapists that it would “just happen” and to encourage them not to treat me any differently.1
Crying came easily to me when I was with others, but was very hard to do alone.2 Instead, I would ruminate for hours in an attempt to solve my problems. Hours would turn into days, months, and eventually years. And any solution I found to “fix” the problem only led to more distress when it eventually didn’t work. My brain was trying to solve a problem when there wasn’t an actual problem to solve. I just had to be upset and ride the wave and eventually my body (including my brain!) would be calm. I can’t believe I wasted 18 months of copays on my last really shitty therapist who I begged to teach me these things.
Just a few minutes after my new-man asked me about the last time I felt shame, we heard what sounded like a steady stream of fuel. Our eyebrows scrunched and we mouthed to each other, questioning what that sound was that was clearly coming from the campsite just a few feet away from our tent. Please don’t let that be what I think it is. I lifted my head up out of my sleeping bag and took a whiff. It was fire. The couple next to use started an open fire at 5,000+ feet elevation despite the red flag warning, burn ban, and wildfire smoke that filled the valley just 3/4 mile down the trail.
I shook my head and whispered. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to. I have to. Jacob thought I was confident but really I was coming face-to-face with a lifetime of fear and shame. Confrontations and boundaries ignited my body, and even though it had been years since I felt that way, I was still afraid of it. Never knowing if this would be the time that I would spiral out of control.
Realizing that ruminating was not helping me, a motto I adopted this year was to no longer “brace for impact”. After trying and failing to do polar plunges I learned that tensing my body before going into freezing cold water just causes more pain. Relaxing and welcoming the discomfort helps it roll on, through, and away. So I decided to stop questioning my choice, feel the pain, and popped out of the tent with Jacob following quietly behind.
As my throat felt like it was going to implode, I explained to the couple why lighting a fire was so dangerous and asked them to put it out. My heart dissolved. I could feel it being absorbed by my stomach, eager to display itself as projectile vomit. It went fine, but I felt terrible. Normally this is when I would misinterpret their response3 and lash out, but instead I went back into our tent and allowed myself to feel the shame. I accepted that I did what I could. That I couldn’t control what those people thought of me and allowed myself to feel terrible. I rolled over onto my back, took a deep breath, and let the turbulent wave of shame roll over my chest. Within 90 seconds, the feeling had dissipated. No overwhelm. No outburst. I didn’t even need to cry. All I had to do was welcome it, feel it, and ride the wave.
Helpful Resources for my fellow reactors-in-recovery:
Set Boundaries, Find Peace by Nedra Glover Tawwab
Although I have to say, I don’t have any reasonable expectations, aside from my therapists of course. It’s not easy to talk to your employee or patient in a normal way when they’re crying. But I am still quite upset with my last therapist who was gentle with me when I consistently asked her to not let me crying stop her from “pushing” me.
This was actually quite a mind blowing experience! Personally, I noticed that if I put my hand on my heart while I talk about a vulnerable experience, I start crying. It literally feels like a button.
Recently someone explained to me that people who can’t identify their feelings will use other peoples reactions to tell them how to feel. Because they are unable to identify their own feelings, they feel overwhelmed not knowing how another person feels. I had no idea that for years I would get upset when I didn’t understand how another person felt, simply because my own emotions were too big an overwhelming. It was easier to blame them as opposed to acknowledging my discomfort.