I felt like I needed to write something because this month has been hella weird in the best way possible but I forgot what it was I wanted to say and so maybe for now I’ll just talk about how when I went out to run again I could not find the morning goose doing rounds anymore. I don’t know where it went, don’t know why it was there in the first place, will probably never know what became of it. Until maybe it reappears. For the meantime I’m going to keep taking walks in the morning to find out.

I want to share a bit of a breakthrough I had this month, in this crooked, zig-zagging journey to figuring shit out in your late thirties and one pretty important thing I’ve learned recently, which was a buildling block on top of other building blocks–and I don’t know how much of that I was able to reach because I was adamant about taking some time for silence and meditation and exercise and journalling–was how critical it is that we learn how to feel our feelings fully.

I, like you, have heard of the concept ever since the world began, and have, in fact, because of my emotional capabilities on the page, and seething empathy and ability to either rant or rave in record-highs, often thought quite confidently (and oh so incorrectly) that I do know how to handle my feelings.

There is a very practical aspect to it that I’ve been missing all these years.

Sit with it

See, I’m pretty good at explaining what I feel and intellectualizing it and giving all sorts of reasons for the uncomfortable feelings that bubble up inside me every now and then. I’m so good at it with all my vocabulary that I’ve forgotten the first part of the equation, which was mostly staying still and catching WHERE that feeling is happening in my body.

I’ll reserve the reasons for it for people fit to explain it, but I’m only speaking from the side of impact and utility. It’s so easy people tend to gloss over it and feel content with being able to say stuff like I’m sad, I’m depressed, I’m happy, I’m okay, I’m neutral, I’m disgusted, etc. But as my own writing has shown me, a large chunk of our interaction with the world is non-verbal. Missing out on that takes away the power of our body to take care of us, now that we’re adults and much more able to create a safe space for our bodies to feel the really nasty emotions.

So in more practical terms this is what it means. Right now, sitting down or wherever you are, reading this, try and ask yourself what you’re feeling. Likely, neutral, maybe confused, maybe doubtful, sure, but that’s just your brain immediately taking the reins and telling you what you’re feeling. Don’t believe it for right now (you will train it eventually). Instead, try to locate whatever it is that is happening inside your body that might be suggesting to your brain that you’re feeling this or that way.

A knot in your stomach? A warmth in your neck? A pain in your lower back? A pinching sensation at the side of your tongue? Whatever it is, just shut up and listen to it, either until it goes away or it tells you something. (And it will always go away–but that’s another story.)

And man, the stories my body had to tell me this month! I had several childhood memories come up that I did not know have been bothering me for years. You will cry, you will laugh, you will realize how much you’ve been neglecting yourself. You may realize how hungry you really are! You may also realize that you feel nothing, even that feeling of nothing is a feeling, so own it, until it dissolves into another sensation, or until it tells you something.

Trust

Is the body always right? I don’t know, but so far what I’m here to tell you is, I would not have been playing the guitar out of nowhere for three weeks now, had I not started listening to my body. I would not have stopped drinking coffee (again, three weeks now). I would not have done any of yoga, 7-minute workouts or long walks every day for weeks. I would not have felt inspired to finish (and figure out) what was wrong in that short story I wanted so badly to write for months now. I would not have spoken up in instances that usually scared the shit out of me.

I don’t know how else to explain it to you. But I hope you try. I haven’t touched a self-help book this entire month, because I’ve started to trust what my body has to say to me. I believe this is what they call intuition. I don’t know. Can I trust myself? I’ll find out in a year or so, I guess, but I’m simply no longer carrying a lot of the unnecessary baggage I used to carry every day. The automatic guilt when I do something for myself and myself alone. The inexplicable sadness that I’ve just gotten used to because I did not want to confront really ugly feelings of jealousy and boredom and fear.

Ah, because this is the most important thing, something I’ve already alluded to in the past. Is that when you repress the bad, you also repress the good. Because your body doesn’t make a distinction–because everything is one. So once you start stamping out the bad, all the bad, murky, yucky feelings that come up and watch them marinate inside you before changing states inevitably at some point, then you also deaden your capacity to feel joy.

For my part, I think the reason why I tend to overreact to certain things, giving them disproportionate emotions, good or bad, is because I’m not only reacting to the thing in the present, but I’m bringing a lot of angst from the past, including a lot of fear of loss, that my feelings tend to spill over in the guise of something else.

It’s hard but ok

The caveat, I guess, is this whole process is very, very trying and very uncomfortable. And if you can’t do it alone, then you must seek the help of a professional. If you’ve had the kind of trauma that makes it feel unsafe to do this alone, you have to ask for help. Otherwise, no matter how ugly it gets, you need to sit with the feeling and allow it to flow through you. You may cry, you may punch a pillow, you may call a friend. Your body will tell you.

Also strangely, instead of this going entirely hedonic with my body asking for things that are bad for me, I find that my body knows how to take care of itself. It self-regulates, for some reason. It knows when playtime has gone overboard, it knows when it’s time to work. It even told me, one time, to book a leave around the time of my dad’s birthday (yesterday) in case things go south. And since I was ready and listening, the waves of grief didn’t come on too strong to knock me off my game. They said hi a bit, then went on their way.

If you’re like me, too, here’s a reminder. When you’re in one such session, sometimes, your mind will immediately kick in with a push to distract yourself with social media or Netflix or something or other. Distraction is my number one tool in repressing emotions. So just catch yourself. You won’t succeed all the time but the more you do, the more you’ll build confidence in yourself.

I wrote this in one go and have not edited but I don’t think I’m going to, this time. I’m going to go back to writing that story I was talking about, gonna play a couple of songs on the guitar then I’m going to go sleep. I hope you have a great day tomorrow. I love you!