Mind and emotion
During a heated conversation last week while I was visiting my family, something happened that I'm still thinking about. I had paused in what I was saying in order to gather my thoughts, and someone who thought I was done talking started talking just at the same time I started talking again, and instead of stopping so he could talk, I was so excited by the idea I wanted to express that I just kept on talking too. Someone else at the table scolded me rather harshly (or so it felt to me) for interrupting, and – this is the part I thought was interesting – it hurt my feelings so badly I felt physically ill, as if I'd been punched in the stomach. I left the table after a few minutes, retreated to my room, and cried.
It was such a horrible feeling. I felt humiliated and enraged, and I didn't know what to do with myself. In my head I knew I was overreacting, and that my feelings were probably about something other than being publically called on my lapse in manners. Probably, because being in Utah and at my parents' house with all my family is about as emotionally loaded a situation as I could ever imagine myself in, the incident tapped into some old feelings of not belonging, of being thought unacceptable, fears of being rejected, anger at feeling disrespected, embarrassment at having behaved badly, indignation and resentment at being told what to do, loneliness from being too proud to let anyone know I'd felt hurt, etc. etc. – this is all the stuff my mind was going through, trying to find a way to explain or justify the way I felt so I could put it away and go back to the other room and stop being such a big baby.
That was what I told myself at first. Then it dawned on me that really, I was just trying to find a way to make myself right and the other person wrong.
It was painful to realize that that was what I was doing. First, because the other person actually was right – I was dominating the conversation and that was rude. But I was also right – it's not his job to correct other grown up people's manners – that's rude, too. And blah and blah and blah – I was left, again, trying to talk to myself about what had happened, and feeling crappy about myself and about the other person and not knowing what to do. Knowing that I was just casting about desperately for a way to get rid of the way I felt, and feeling guilty for wanting to do that instead of processing it in a mature and compassionate way, etc. etc. etc. ...
And then something cool happened: my practice kicked in and I remembered that I don't need to do anything about the way I feel. In fact, sitting there stewing about what happened and how I felt about it – that kind of attention only makes the feelings last longer. So I decided to try something new I've been working with: taking it out of the mind and into the body. Instead of focusing on the breath, and coming back to it when thoughts arise, I focused on the physical sensations I was feeling. Intense heat in my face and solar plexus, tightness in my face and arms, a crushing, choking feeling in my throat, pain in my shoulders and a tendency to hunch them up, slight nausea, a feeling like my hair was on fire ... Every time my mind started naming it again (anger, sadness, shame, panic, etc.) I brought my attention back to my body. Holding my hands on my heart helped me stay grounded, and felt good too.
I don't know if I'm describing it very well, but I wanted to record that it was a really amazing experience – the first time I can remember working with intense angst in this way – and that I was shocked at how quickly I started feeling better. Or another way to put it is, how quickly I got bored with obsessing about how bad I felt, once I let go of the story I was telling myself about it. Also, it was gratifying to notice how good it felt to consciously let go of the story. We really do fight so hard to drag all of our past hurts along with us forever ... But we don't have to do that. It isn't required.
Later the same day I had an opportunity to be with one of my nephews who was feeling something similar to what I'd been feeling, and seeing how deeply he was hurting over his own conflict and humiliation really broke my heart. I'm not very articulate on the topic of ... well, any of this. The language is still kind of new to me. And trying to explain it to a child was hard. But we did talk a little bit about what he was going through and I told him there is nothing wrong with having intense feelings, and that there are things he can learn to do to help himself when he feels overwhelmed by his emotions. His parents are aware that he's a tender little soul and no doubt will have their own ideas to teach him; what I hope I can do is help him be strong enough to keep his heart open when our whole society demands that he shut it down and stop being so sensitive.
We need more people in this world who know how to do that.
It was such a horrible feeling. I felt humiliated and enraged, and I didn't know what to do with myself. In my head I knew I was overreacting, and that my feelings were probably about something other than being publically called on my lapse in manners. Probably, because being in Utah and at my parents' house with all my family is about as emotionally loaded a situation as I could ever imagine myself in, the incident tapped into some old feelings of not belonging, of being thought unacceptable, fears of being rejected, anger at feeling disrespected, embarrassment at having behaved badly, indignation and resentment at being told what to do, loneliness from being too proud to let anyone know I'd felt hurt, etc. etc. – this is all the stuff my mind was going through, trying to find a way to explain or justify the way I felt so I could put it away and go back to the other room and stop being such a big baby.
That was what I told myself at first. Then it dawned on me that really, I was just trying to find a way to make myself right and the other person wrong.
It was painful to realize that that was what I was doing. First, because the other person actually was right – I was dominating the conversation and that was rude. But I was also right – it's not his job to correct other grown up people's manners – that's rude, too. And blah and blah and blah – I was left, again, trying to talk to myself about what had happened, and feeling crappy about myself and about the other person and not knowing what to do. Knowing that I was just casting about desperately for a way to get rid of the way I felt, and feeling guilty for wanting to do that instead of processing it in a mature and compassionate way, etc. etc. etc. ...
And then something cool happened: my practice kicked in and I remembered that I don't need to do anything about the way I feel. In fact, sitting there stewing about what happened and how I felt about it – that kind of attention only makes the feelings last longer. So I decided to try something new I've been working with: taking it out of the mind and into the body. Instead of focusing on the breath, and coming back to it when thoughts arise, I focused on the physical sensations I was feeling. Intense heat in my face and solar plexus, tightness in my face and arms, a crushing, choking feeling in my throat, pain in my shoulders and a tendency to hunch them up, slight nausea, a feeling like my hair was on fire ... Every time my mind started naming it again (anger, sadness, shame, panic, etc.) I brought my attention back to my body. Holding my hands on my heart helped me stay grounded, and felt good too.
I don't know if I'm describing it very well, but I wanted to record that it was a really amazing experience – the first time I can remember working with intense angst in this way – and that I was shocked at how quickly I started feeling better. Or another way to put it is, how quickly I got bored with obsessing about how bad I felt, once I let go of the story I was telling myself about it. Also, it was gratifying to notice how good it felt to consciously let go of the story. We really do fight so hard to drag all of our past hurts along with us forever ... But we don't have to do that. It isn't required.
Later the same day I had an opportunity to be with one of my nephews who was feeling something similar to what I'd been feeling, and seeing how deeply he was hurting over his own conflict and humiliation really broke my heart. I'm not very articulate on the topic of ... well, any of this. The language is still kind of new to me. And trying to explain it to a child was hard. But we did talk a little bit about what he was going through and I told him there is nothing wrong with having intense feelings, and that there are things he can learn to do to help himself when he feels overwhelmed by his emotions. His parents are aware that he's a tender little soul and no doubt will have their own ideas to teach him; what I hope I can do is help him be strong enough to keep his heart open when our whole society demands that he shut it down and stop being so sensitive.
We need more people in this world who know how to do that.
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