Angry? Afraid? Stressed? Good, let’s start there.
Have you or someone you know tried to convince themselves that they do not experience emotions like anger or fear?
Yes. That person is me.
Honestly, I’ve gotten pretty darn good at intellectualizing my feelings enough to be able to observe them from a distance. I mean, if my anger falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it even make a sound?!
Yeah, it turns out. It does. And I often completely miss out on what it’s trying to tell me.
So! I hear you. You may feel angry about feeling angry or afraid of feeling afraid. I am, too. So I thought I’d share the things I do so that all of this can become a little easier for both of us. Sound good?!
In the moment, I take a few deep breaths and do the best I can. Then, as soon as I can, I take some time to myself. First, I first stop trying to convince myself that I shouldn’t feel angry. I just feel it. Here is how I give it a voice:
Sometimes, I just need to sit with it. I take some deep breaths, and I locate where I physically feel it in my body. I start by trying to describe it - what texture does it have, what temperature is it, what size Plankton would fit inside of it?
I write. I usually start with something like, “I am so f@*#ing grateful for how frustrated/enraged I feel about …” I let it fly. For more on this, check out step #3 in this post.
Tap (EFT). If you haven’t heard of this technique, give it a try. It may feel weird at first, but I have found it to be effective in giving my emotions a clear voice and somewhere to go in my body. Plus! This technique also works for identifying and alleviating physical pain, too!
If my anger has still not passed, I:
Cry (if I haven’t already started doing this on accident). When I’m angry, I’m usually also sad or scared, and the crying really helps to release all of it.
Grab a pillow. Scream into it. Punch it.
Reach out for help or prayers from people I know and trust. This one is still pretty hard for me, but I’m slowly opening up more to people who can hear what I have to say when it’s hard. To make this one easier, just reach out to your people whenever you think of them. Nothing fancy is required.
Find a way to be of service. This can be as big or small as you’d like - volunteer for an organization you love, send a thank you card to someone who has helped you in some way, or compliment a stranger’s outfit.
Watch an episode of “Queer Eye.” I don’t know how the heck they do it, but somehow this show makes me feel seen and appreciated and part of something bigger, even when I can’t physically be around other humans. It’s gold!
When I’m feeling content, it’s often the perfect time to be there for a friend. I’ll reach out and check in on my peeps and try to put a smile on their faces :)
I LOVE going for a walk and being in nature as often as I can. All I can do is say thank you to homegirl, Mother Nature.
Let’s be honest, sometimes I cry when I feel content, too. Because when I think about how much cumulative effort it can take to just feel content and at peace, a girl can get pretty darn verklempt!
Alright, ya caught me. I don’t have this one figured out. But I’ll just share what I can today.
I try to breathe, get quiet and be still. I get curious about what I’m really afraid of. Most of the time, as I dig, I realize that I am most afraid of what people will think of me. But even underneath that, I am afraid of what I will think of myself. And other times, my fear is telling me to GTFO in no uncertain, fancy-pants, poetic terms.
If I still need clarity or if I know that my fear has more to say, I will write or tap, just like I do with my anger.
I take the steps I need to feel safe, which usually involves preparing what I can - I’ll think through the specific parts of an upcoming presentation or I’ll write down what I want to say in a tough conversation. I’ll come up with pneumonic devices, do a little extra research, or set an intention before doing this scary thing. And then I remember that, even with all of the intention and foresight in the world, I cannot protect myself from everything. So I do my best.
Real quick. I remember telling my therapist what it was like working in one of my previous jobs. I had been losing sleep, pulling all-nighters, and juggling a demanding travel schedule. My head would spin with everything I had to do. I’d feel my heart race in the middle of meetings. I would feel anxious and afraid so much of the time, even when I was just lying in bed or sitting in a chair at the office.
Thinking that I was charming and light-hearted about it as I looked back, I told my therapist that I would often say to myself, “You don’t need to worry so much. You’re safe, you know. Everyone here is safe.” Lol, right girlfriend?!
To which she simply responded, “But were you?”
Right. Oof.
My physical health, my mental health, my relationships with people I loved, and even my finances were not, in fact, very safe. And a lot of it was only going to get worse if I stayed there long-term.
Until that conversation, I had been viewing my fear exclusively as a nuisance, an ever-present-racket-maker, and it was all on me to conquer that fear by shushing the nonsense I assumed it was always spewing. I hadn’t ever considered my fear as something I could trust.
So today, I listen to its nuances and do the best I can to hear what it’s actually telling me.
I’ll keep this one brief. If you’re feeling stressed, my dear, the last thing you need is to hear some lady’s not-so-hot take. So here we go:
I take a deep breath. I take another one, time permitting.
I look at my list of what needs to be done, and I remove or reschedule anything I can. Shimmying it all down helps because sometimes, my list may not actually be as daunting as it feels. I then prioritize what’s left.
Start. If what’s left truly has to be done, then I just have to start doing it ASAP.
Just so we’re clear, I don’t just mean cinematic, life-changing “PS I Love You” grief. We can grieve relationships, expectations, experiences, and “small” things. We can grieve things that we don’t even have yet. Here’s what I do:
I like to go for a drive, crank the music, and roll down the windows. Something about getting out of the house while still being able to cry in the (partial) privacy of my vehicle helps a lot.
I move when I feel moved. I try to get real rest when I need it. I try to set aside the guilt of not being as productive as I normally am - I recognize that I am doing another form of work by experiencing my grief, and it is important, too. Sometimes, I am surprised to feel joy and to want to laugh, and I can tell you that you’re allowed to do that, too.
I write a lot, and I lean on people I trust.
I read this excerpt from “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle when I needed it the most. I hope it helps you, too.
“Grief shatters. If you let yourself shatter and then you put yourself back together, piece by piece, you wake up one day and realize that you have been completely reassembled … The change that happens to people who really sit in their pain - whether it’s a sliver of envy lasting an hour or a canyon of grief lasting decades - it’s revolutionary … You look around and see everything freshly, with the new eyes you have earned for yourself. There is no going back.”
One last thing.
Before any of these feelings really take over, you can do some prep work.
Assess what matters to you and do the things that align with what you truly want. It can help to clarify these emotions before they even arrive. Go on walks, journal, drink plenty of water, and regularly take the things off your to-do list that don’t serve you. Oh, and dig into Brene Brown’s work whenever you can. She’s the real MVP here.
Finally, tell me! How do you show up for yourself!?
We’re not meant to do this alone. I can’t wait to hear from you!
