All week I’ve been thinking about how people are complicated and contradictory. A person can be a mass murderer and an excellent dog parent. A man can beat his wife and act meek at work. A woman can preach love and kindness and be sharp and cutting with her inner circle. Instead of trying to puzzle out which side is the “real them,” my perspective is it’s all them.
Walt Whitman speaks to this in one of his poems when he writes, “Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself, / (I am large, I contain multitudes.)” In therapy, this contradiction is recognized via the modality “Internal Family Systems,” also known as parts work. The traditional form of IFS categorizes the various parts of a person into three roles:
- Managers, who seek to control surroundings, manage emotions, and navigate tasks in daily life.
- Exiles, or parts that hold hurt, fear, and shame that are tucked away and hidden from conscious awareness.
- Firefighters, who seek to inhibit difficult emotions by any means necessary such as addiction.
Personally, I find those categories too limiting. For instance, I’ve done a lot of trauma and recovery work so the parts of me that hold hurt, fear, and shame are not exiled – they are seen, heard, and accepted. Regardless, what I appreciate about parts work is it recognizes how complex humans are – that we contradict ourselves and act in surprising ways. And instead of focusing on one part or another part, IFS emphasizes embracing all of it. IFS says the part of you that flies into a rage is just as much you as the part that weeps over a sunset. It’s ALL you.
We are everything. Photo by Austin Neill on Unsplash
Our society very much likes polarization and black-and-white thinking. “This person is a monster! This person is a saint! This thing is good! This thing is bad!” But that’s not true. Reality is nuanced. People are nuanced. You can be a little bit right and a little bit wrong AT THE SAME TIME! Baffling, right? But it’s true.
This is something I appreciate about my spiritual tradition – it emphasizes embracing everything. It doesn’t say this thing is an expression of an infinite loving consciousness but that thing is not. It doesn’t say, “You’re only allowed to feel happy and peaceful all the time.” No, my spiritual tradition says, “You’re human, you have instincts and emotions and we want you to feel those too. We want you to recognize those parts of you are also sacred and holy.”
Gorgeous, right? We practice viewing everything as sacred with something called madhuvidyá, which literally means “honey knowledge.” It’s a sort of magic wand that transforms your thinking when done well. My spiritual teacher says, “This madhuvidyá will pervade your exterior and interior with … [ecstasy] and will permanently alleviate all your afflictions. Then the ferocious jaws of [degeneration] cannot come and devour you. The glory of one and only one benign entity will shine forth to you from one and all objects.”
The practice of madhuvidyá says even this thing I don’t like or perhaps even hate is an expression of an infinite loving consciousness. Practicing madhuvidyá means I’m able to see beyond the surface of people, places, and things to witness their true form. I recognize everything is Brahma, Cosmic Consciousness, Source, the Universe, whatever name you have for it. And just as the universe is vast, complicated, and contradictory, people are too. As a reflection of Cosmic Consciousness, we contain multitudes.
I dream of a world where we understand people are not one way or another. A world where we recognize people have parts of themselves that get expressed at different times. A world where instead of thinking one part is real and another is false, we understand that all of it is true. A world where we remember that as reflections of Cosmic Consciousness, we contain multitudes.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Francis Weller writes in his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow that on a trip to Burkina Faso, he remarked to one woman that she had a lot of joy. Her response was, “That’s because I cry a lot.” I keep thinking about that because I notice sometimes the people who are the most joyful, vibrant, and alive are also the most depressed and even suicidal.
This is on my mind because a friend of mine died suddenly about a week ago and I suspect it was a suicide based on the abruptness and also how his family hasn’t mentioned the cause of death. But just in case I’m wrong, I’m not going to name him publicly and instead write about someone I can: Robin Williams.
If you’ve seen any movies or interviews with Robin Williams, you know he was a wacky delight. Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson, said in a Guardian article, “When we were making Awakenings, we were filming in the deserted part of a mental hospital, and often shooting through the night. And there was this TV in the corner on mute, and Robin, between breaks during the scenes, would go off on a riff, inventing dialogue on the TV show, entertaining everyone at 3 a.m., whatever time. It was a very tough role that he did a phenomenal amount of research for, but he didn’t keep to himself between takes – he was out there, giving to everyone.”
I hope you are held like this. Photo by The HK Photo Company on Unsplash
Williams was the life of the party and yet he committed suicide, shocking everyone. It turns out he had a form of dementia that essentially caused his brain to fall apart so who knows how much was the disease versus depression but even still. This man who was so capable of bringing joy to others suffered so greatly that he decided he couldn’t keep living. I have trouble wrapping my mind around that and posed the question on Facebook about the dichotomy.
One person responded that she was often the life of the party because she was compensating for depression. She was trying so hard not to be depressed, to not show people how low she felt that she put on a mask to hide it. But she also said she wished more people would talk about how they felt to normalize it, to know they don’t have to hide.
I can’t say this to my friend or to Robin Williams, but I can say it to you. I know what it’s like to be in the shadows and also the light. I’ve traversed both spaces and there’s nothing wrong with either. You don’t have to hide or pretend with me. You can take off your mask and let me know how you’re really feeling because I’m not scared to hold space for whatever is alive in you. Human beings are complicated and complex. Every part of you – the parts you’re proud of, the parts you’re ashamed of, the parts you’re scared of – all of them are welcome whether you share them with me or not.
Weller says, “Life is hard, filled with loss and suffering. Life is glorious, stunning, and incomparable. To deny either truth is to live in some fantasy of the ideal or to be crushed by the weight of pain. Instead, both are true, and it requires a familiarity with both sorrow and joy to fully encompass the full range of being human.”
I seek to encompass the full range of being human and that means I’m holding both light and shadow because I know neither can exist without the other.
I dream of a world where we take off our masks and express how we truly feel. A world where we recognize people want to know the real us, warts and all. A world where we remember authenticity is usually met with care. A world where we know both light and shadow exist in all of us and being human means holding both.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
What follows is a repost from 10(!!) years ago so not all of the examples are relevant anymore. For instance, I no longer have a neighbor who plays loud music, nor am I waiting for my passport in the mail. I’m also far less anxious and melodramatic but the general wisdom about not spinning out and attaching a story to an emotion still applies. Enjoy.
I had a very interesting conversation this week with a friend. He said there’s a difference between feeling an emotion and attaching a story to it. For instance, I may be sad about losing a relationship, which is a natural emotion, but what makes it worse is the story I tell myself on top of it such as, “I’ll be alone for the rest of my life,” “No one will ever love me the same way,” etc. I can compound an emotional state by adding a story and really working myself into a tizzy.
What’s hard for me to do is let the emotion go through me. I’ve spent a good chunk of my life doing what I could to not feel, to avoid feeling my feelings at all costs, to keep them at bay because I was afraid of feeling the feeling. In my mind, it was better to not feel angry, sad, lonely, etc. in the first place. So now that I’m sober (i.e., actually feeling my feelings and not trying to numb out), I still have a hard time letting my emotions pass through me, precisely because I can drag them out by adding a story to them.
Can we let things move through us like the wind blowing grass? Photo by Abdallah Kokash on Unsplash
The emotion turns into a big dramatic thing. I make it so much worse by piling on untruths such as, “I’ll feel this way forever,” or, “Things will never change.” There’s a lot of “always” and “never” in my stories. And a whole lot of catastrophizing where I jump from, “My neighbor is playing loud music,” to, “Oh my God, I need to move somewhere else!”
I’ll admit that much of this has to do with the fact that I’m anxious and melodramatic. For those of you who aren’t, you probably can’t relate to what I’m writing about. But for those of you who can, I want to point out how these stories and the catastrophizing make the emotion so much worse than it has to be. If I allowed myself to feel my moments of grief or loneliness, they wouldn’t last NEARLY as long.
I’m not sure what to do about all this other than to make myself aware of it. My dear friend who’s a therapist often tells me that awareness alone can make a huge difference. Maybe by understanding that I tell myself a lot of false “truths” I can catch myself in the act and remind myself they’re not the case. Just because I’m scared about not receiving my passport on time to leave for Europe, doesn’t automatically mean my boss will get pissed and fire me and never send me to Europe again. Instead, it’s better for me to stay present with what is and acknowledge, yes, I’m anxious about my passport arriving in the mail, but that’s all I get to be anxious about because nothing else has happened.
It all comes down to being present, to paying attention to what’s in front of me, and not future tripping or spinning out about what could be. There are a million things that “could be,” and when I start attaching emotion to all those possibilities, that’s when I really get into trouble. Can I let it be what it is instead?
I dream of a world where we feel, process, and let go of what’s before us. A world where we stick with whatever emotion we’re feeling and not compound it by telling ourselves falsehoods. A world where we allow emotions to come in and emotions to go out, understanding the process can be fast or slow depending on how much extra stuff we throw in. A world where we just let things be what they are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I recently took the University of Pennsylvania’s VIA Survey of Character Strengths in an effort to leverage my strengths and become happier. Marty Seligman, the father of positive psychology, said to be happier we can use our top strengths and apply them to something we don’t like. For instance, if you don’t like filing your taxes and your top strength is humor and play, you can gamify filing your taxes.
My top strength completely shocked me. When the result came in, I texted a friend and said, “Is this right? This doesn’t seem right.” My top strength? Bravery and valor. BRAVERY AND VALOR. UPenn defines this as, “You are a courageous person who does not shrink from threat, challenge, difficulty, or pain. You speak up for what is right even if there is opposition. You act on your convictions.” OK, well, when you put it like that, it’s true. And then the universe answered my question about whether that’s my top strength because independently, unprompted, someone told me over Facebook that I’m like a first responder always running toward the fire, that I don’t shy away from issues. Message received!
I don’t know how to apply bravery and valor to filing taxes but what I am applying this character strength toward is other things, namely my relationship to fear itself. Our society has a very combative relationship to fear. We say, “Screw fear! Don’t let fear stop you! If you’re scared, do it anyway!” We think of fear as a bad thing, something to push away or bulldoze over. I get it. Me too, but it’s not really working for me anymore. I find that instead of feeling less afraid, fear is taking over and I’m falling into a fugue state where I can’t concentrate on anything because there’s not anything to do. In other words, my fears are not around things like ice skating or public speaking. They’re abstract.
Telling myself all the reasons why I shouldn’t be afraid, also doesn’t help because I become irrational when I’m afraid. I thought about it and asked, “What would approaching this issue from my top strength of bravery and valor mean?” And you know what it means? Facing fear head-on without trying to fix, change, or solve it. I’ve been setting a timer for 15 minutes for the past few days and just letting fear flood my body. I’m not trying to soothe myself, push it away, or do anything. I’m letting it be. I’m saying to myself, “It makes sense that you feel afraid. It’s OK. I’m here. It’s safe for you to feel afraid.”
No one has ever said that to me in my life. It’s safe to feel afraid? I don’t have to run from this emotion just like I don’t run from anger and sadness? I’m finding that’s exactly what I need. Like I wrote about a month ago, change requires not only awareness and action but also acceptance. Before I can do anything about the fear, I need to feel it. I need to accept that it’s there, not minimize the emotion or declare all the reasons why it’s invalid. I can’t speak for everyone but for me, I perpetually want a container. I want a safe space to fall apart, to unravel. I want someone to witness me with love and neutrality. It’s one of the reasons I love therapy so much.
However, I only talk to my therapist once a week. What about the other 167 hours? I am the only person who is with me constantly so the best thing I can do is become a safe space for myself. It feels like the most terrifying thing I can do, let myself feel afraid, and yet doing so I feel more settled, more present, more adult because I’m not letting a scared inner child take over my body. I’m giving myself the space to feel my feelings like a good parent. In other words, I’m being brave. And wouldn’t you know it, I do feel happier.
I dream of a world where we stop trying to force ourselves to feel one way or another. A world where we create a safe container to feel all of our emotions. A world where instead of making fear an enemy, we recognize there’s a reason we feel scared. A world where we let ourselves feel afraid because we know it’s safe to do so.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
P.S. If you take the strengths test, I’d love to hear your results.
When I was 7, there was a boy in my first-grade class that I didn’t like. I don’t remember why, his name, face, or any identifying features, but what’s seared into my brain is how I treated him on Valentine’s Day. It’s standard practice to give all the kids in your class a Valentine and for this boy, I decided to let him know how I really felt about him. I took out a piece of notebook paper and wrote, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” until I ran out of space. But that didn’t feel like enough so I asked my brother, “What’s a word that means over and over again?” and he responded, “Et cetera,” which of course I didn’t know how to spell.
So at the end of a page filled with “I hate yous” I tacked on an “etc.” I tucked the paper into an envelope and signed my name so he would know it was from me. The next day I watched his face crumple reading my “Valentine.” He showed the piece of paper to our teacher and she said, “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” I remember feeling mixed emotions because I did mean it. I did hate him but at the same time, I didn’t expect him to respond the way he did. In my mind, he was a monster, incapable of emotions, but seeing how hurt he was gut-punched me.
Peace is possible if we do the internal work. Photo by Sunguk Kim on Unsplash
As a 7-year-old, I wasn’t thinking about how this little boy would feel. All that mattered was expressing how I felt because I was the wronged party. He was mean to me. What I did to this little boy is what some people are doing now – they are only thinking about how they feel, not the impact their words will have on other people. What I also did to this boy is I dehumanized him. As a 7-year-old, there weren’t dangerous consequences to my perception but that’s not true for adults.
When you perceive a human being as an animal or a monster that must be destroyed, you will put them in a cage. You will bomb the crap out of their homeland. You will decapitate them and their family. You will do whatever it takes to show them how you feel without considering how they feel.
It’s worth mentioning that balance is important. There is such a thing as considering someone else’s feelings too much and that’s known as codependence. By and large though, we’re suffering from a lack of empathy, not too much of it. As a highly sensitive person, I’ve been crying about the ugliness in the world. It feels not great to read people are saying, “Gas the Jews!” and “Wipe Gaza off the face of the Earth!” Have we forgotten, just like I did, that words hurt? They don’t leave a visible mark like bruises do but can ring in your ears long after a physical injury has healed.
What do we do about this? How can we remember each other’s humanity when it feels so very challenging? There’s a Nonviolent Communication (NVC) exercise called simply “the exercise” that is so powerful for this. It’s a way to shift your inner landscape closer to connection, compassion, and peace. Any movement in that direction is a win so don’t worry if you’re not suddenly filled with peace after doing it.
I know it’s easy to let anger fuel us, I’m guilty of that myself, but if you have even a modicum of a desire to create a peaceful planet that goes beyond the limits of small social identities, I encourage you to do the exercise I linked to. Not only that, share it with your friends. As humans, we don’t have to give in to our baser instincts. There is another way. We can move toward peace but it requires more than a ceasefire. It requires us to view each other differently.
I dream of a world where we recognize how dangerous it is to only think about how we feel and not how others feel. A world where we don’t let anger and hatred fuel us. A world where we do the work to see others as human beings no matter how hard it is. A world where we all work together to move toward peace.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
In April, I wrote a blog for my professional website called “Maybe It’s You” about how I realized after getting rejected by every single literary agent I queried that maybe the problem was me. This is the companion piece to that blog recognizing maybe it’s not me that’s the problem; maybe it is the other person.
When it comes to interactions with other people that go awry, I frequently place the blame on myself. “What did I do wrong? Should I have said XYZ instead?” Call it a carryover from being labeled “weird” my whole life and struggling to fit in. Who knows? Regardless, when other people are unhappy, frustrated, uncomfortable, etc. I am quick to take responsibility.
In one of my recovery programs, there are two sayings that feel apt right now: “You are probably not guilty” and “You can be healthier than those around you.” Both of those statements are revelations. Typically, I’m my own worst critic playing judge, jury, and executioner before you can blink. I’m probably not guilty? It’s possible I didn’t do anything wrong? Really?
For the other saying, that I can be healthier than those around me, it’s also hard to wrap my mind around. As someone who is in recovery, seeing a therapist, and generally working on herself, I have this perspective that I’m the sickest person in the room. Everyone else knows what they’re doing, they’re normal, they’re fine. I’m the problem. The irony is after doing all this work on myself it’s become the opposite: In some situations, I am healthier than those around me because I know how to handle my own emotions. For instance, instead of asking you to stop feeling a certain way so I can feel better, I recognize when I’m activated and can do the work to process that.
Because I’ve done so much work on myself to heal my wounds and become emotionally mature, I forget not everyone else is like that. I forget someone can say, “I don’t like the way you did that” and it truly has nothing to do with me. The other person is triggered and trying to place all the blame on me instead of taking ownership of themselves. It’s so very easy to do in our society and we see evidence of this all the time.
Just a few days ago people advocated boycotting Hershey because the company featured a trans woman in an ad. Instead of dealing with their discomfort over trans people, conservatives said, “Boycott.” Why are they upset? I truly don’t understand because if they don’t want to be a trans woman, they don’t have to be, but anyway, instead of processing the discomfort within themselves, Hershey became bad and wrong. Is Hershey the problem here? Given my progressive bent, of course I say no, they aren’t.
This blog is a reminder to me and to anyone who needs to hear it that as much as you resonate with Taylor Swift’s song “Anti-hero,” maybe you’re not the problem. Maybe it’s not you. Maybe the other person is triggered or hasn’t dealt with their own discomfort or has unrealistic expectations or is scared of vulnerability or. . .Maybe you didn’t do anything wrong and in fact, you are the healthier person in the situation.
I dream of a world where we recognize sometimes we aren’t the problem; sometimes it’s the other person. A world where we understand we can be healthier than those around us. A world where we remember other people get triggered and haven’t dealt with their wounds and that’s on them no matter how much they try to place the blame on us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Sometimes I have temporary amnesia in that I forget how much can change in a day, an hour, an instant. If I feel blue, I think I’ll always feel blue. If I feel happy, I think I’ll always feel happy. I pretend a state of being is permanent when in reality, it’s anything but. For instance, I’ve been hawking my bank account, just waiting for payments to come in. I started to fret about what I would do if I didn’t get paid, the steps I would take. And then, cha-ching! The money arrived! Hallelujah! I literally danced with joy.
But the opposite also happens. I can cruise along, feel that all is right in the world, and then receive a text message that a friend died. Before receiving the news, I could have been smiling, but after reading the text I would start crying. Emotions are like this. They’re energy in motion. I rarely remember that though because I’m either chasing the happy, feel-good emotions, or I’m pushing away the sad, feel-bad emotions.
Wait it out. Photo by Semyon Borisov on Unsplash
Our society does this too. We are encouraged to buy things – shoes, a phone, a car – or use drugs – alcohol, weed, ketamine – to chase away the pain. Our brains encourage this sort of behavior because they are in a perpetual quest for more dopamine, the feel-good, “more” molecule. But instead of trying to create a feeling, what if we just … waited? What if we instead recognized everything, EVERYTHING we’re feeling is temporary?
The temporary nature of life is on my mind because I wasn’t speaking hypothetically about receiving a text message notifying me of a friend’s death. That happened. I saw him on a Zoom call and then two days later he died of Parkinson’s. It’s surreal to me how quickly things can change. And my friend’s death is shaking me up because he was a staple of my childhood. Someone who was always around. I took it for granted he would continue to be, even after he got sick because I forgot everything is temporary.
My spiritual teacher says, “This expressed universe is nothing but a collection of temporary entities which are undergoing constant metamorphosis according to the sweet will of nature.” We are all temporary entities and we are all constantly changing. Nothing stays the same. Nothing. When I remember this, every emotion becomes easier to bear; every experience becomes richer precisely for its impermanence.
This isn’t a profound post, I’m not revealing a truth you don’t already know, but maybe like me, you forget. Maybe you forget the person next to you is not immortal and neither are you. Maybe you forget the pain you feel will end. Maybe you forget at any moment you can feel euphoric because you received good news. Instead of chasing after a feeling, what if we pulled back a little, practiced more detachment and surrender, and understood all we have to do is wait? Because even if it doesn’t seem like it right now, you’ll feel great again soon. I promise.
I dream of a world where we understand emotions are constantly changing. A world where we realize we can’t force ourselves to feel one way or another and we stop trying. A world where we understand if we just wait, we’ll feel great again.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
My friend Kat Nadel, a Nonviolent Communication (NVC) facilitator, mentioned she’s writing a blog about eight things NOT to say to Ukrainians right now. One of those things is including the words “at least” anywhere in your response. For instance, if a Ukrainian says, “My 12-year-old niece had to travel by herself to Romania and now she’s sheltering at a refugee camp all alone,” and you say, “That’s terrible! At least she’s safe.”
Saying “at least” is discounting the experience, feelings, and perspective of the person sharing. “At least” never makes anyone feel better. It’s not connective, it’s not empathic. I know we’re encouraged to look on the bright side of things, to be grateful, and I agree with those practices, BUT not at the expense of emotional connection. And that’s what saying “at least” does. It puts distance between you and whoever is sharing.
We have a name for this practice: toxic positivity. It’s “dismissing negative emotions and responding to distress with false reassurances rather than empathy,” according to UW Medicine. “It comes from feeling uncomfortable with negative emotions. It is often well-intentioned but can cause alienation and a feeling of disconnection.”
Yep. Sure does. It’s also interesting for me to realize that not only do we “at least” other people, we also “at least” ourselves. I’ve done that for the past few weeks. Whenever I’ve been irritated or concerned about something – my shoulder hurting, waiting on money from clients, wishing I wasn’t so tired, etc. – I’ve said to myself, “Well at least I’m not in Ukraine.” It’s true, I’m not in Ukraine, but that doesn’t make the pain I feel in my shoulder dissipate. Instead, I feel bad that I feel bad.
The thinking goes, “I ‘shouldn’t’ feel what I’m feeling because other people have it so much worse.” And yes, they do, but why does it have to be a competition? Why can’t I feel heartbroken, worried, and shocked about the situation in Ukraine while also feeling dismayed, sad, and concerned about my shoulder? I can! Both can be true!
The empathic response to both myself and others is to say, “I hear you. It sounds like you feel _____. Do you have a need for _____?” And that’s it. No fixing, no changing, no pitying, just presence to what is alive both in myself and in others. This is so very hard but it seems to me what we all need more of is true connection. We need true witnessing of someone else’s pain as well as our own. Let the pain, the feelings, all of it, be there because this is what it means to be alive. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know I try to inoculate myself from pain, from hardship. It’s my dream to have an easy, cushy life but, um, that’s not feasible.
Even the uber-wealthy, the people who have every material object they can desire, are not inoculated from pain or hardship. Even for them, divorce happens, death happens. To be alive means to endure something you don’t enjoy. It just does. And instead of turning away from the pain or engaging in toxic positivity, the best thing we can do for ourselves is to stay with it. To cry about people fleeing Ukraine in droves. To worry about rising gas prices. And to say “ow” when our shoulder hurts.
I dream of a world where we meet each other with empathy, not toxic positivity. A world where we understand while someone will always have a worse situation, that doesn’t change our situation. A world where we realize we can feel upset about events in the world as well as sad about occurrences in our own lives. A world where we remember both can be true.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As a highly sensitive person and an empath, I feel everything. Not only my own emotions, but other people’s too. If the folks around me are scared, I’m scared. If they’re sad, I’m sad. I’ve tried numerous ways of dealing with this high degree of empathy. When I was younger, I did my best to numb out, to not feel anything. Long story short, that was a disaster. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve tried all the other things: clearing, shielding, visualizing, smudging, etc.
Those methods work to a degree, but also, it’s exhausting to constantly feel like I have to protect myself from other people’s energy. This week my chiropractor said something to me, offered a suggestion, that has thus far made a world of difference. I spoke with her about joining a Zoom call organized by members of my spiritual community in Ukraine. They are holding a 24-hour kiirtan indefinitely to promote peace in the region. (Kiirtan is a type of spiritual singing, in case you’re unfamiliar with the term.)
As soon as I jumped on the Zoom call, despite feeling gleeful because I just received good news, I hooked in to the emotions of my spiritual family and they were not gleeful, rightly so. Instead, the energy of the collective – even though only one person was singing the same phrase in Sanskrit over and over again, or in other words not outright talking about the situation – was fearful and sad.
We can all be like this sunflower, absorbing energy and beaming it out. Photo by Tim Cooper on Unsplash
I told my chiropractor I don’t know how to separate myself from intense energy like that and she said, “I’m not sure you can.” It was the first time someone acknowledged that maybe all this clearing, shielding, visualization, etc. doesn’t work that well because we can’t separate from one another. We’re not supposed to because we’re interconnected.
I’m not a physicist, but it seems to me that’s what quantum entanglement is. According to Live Science, when two or more particles link up in a certain way, no matter how far apart they are in space, their states remain linked. They share a common, unified quantum state. Researchers found, “[I]f two particles are entangled, meaning their quantum states are strongly correlated and become unified, then measurements of one of the particles automatically influence the other, no matter how far away the particles are from each other.”
That certainly sounds like my experience of being on the Zoom call. I was influenced by people thousands of miles away. Instead of trying to separate myself from others, which is likely impossible, what if I used that connection? My chiropractor suggested I put one hand on my heart and raise the other hand in the air. To notice the peace in my own body because it’s true, I’m not fleeing a war zone, and imagine blue, healing light pouring down from the sky, into my body, and then out my upraised hand. In that way, I can be a channel, can transmit and participate with the energy that also exists in the world. There’s fear, but there’s also safety. There’s sadness, but there’s also joy.
Instead of getting swept away by someone else’s energy, what if I used the principles of emotional contagion to support people who need it? What if I transmitted my own feelings in an act of sponsorship to soothe others? As an empath, I often feel encroached upon, but what if I turned outward? What if I pushed out love and healing? I’ve been practicing this every day and I feel so much better. I’m beaming love to my siblings across the globe and donating to charitable organizations like Amurtel, run by people I personally know and trust. I’m using my gifts instead of being used by them and that changes everything.
I dream of a world where empaths no longer feel bombarded. A world where they use their connection with others to beam love, light, and healing to all who need it. A world where we understand we can’t withdraw from others and instead are inseparable, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. A world where empaths have tools to survive even when everything feels like too much.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
In 12-step communities there’s a saying, “You’re only as sick as your secrets.” When I first heard the expression, I thought it meant secrets, along with the things you’re ashamed of, and/or the emotions and memories you’re trying to repress, will drive you to act out in your addiction. While that’s true, I’ve also learned recently that secrets can make you physically sicker. I don’t mean the stomachache when you’re hiding something from your best friend. I mean arthritis and cardiovascular issues.
In a meta-analysis, meaning a study that looked at numerous other studies, Marcus Mund and Kristin Mitte found those who repressed their emotions had significant associations with cancer and high blood pressure. There’s also a study from 1999 when Dr. Joshua Smyth assigned asthma and rheumatoid arthritis patients to write either about the most stressful event of their lives or about emotionally neutral topics. He and his colleagues found the patients who wrote about stressful life experiences had clinically relevant changes in health status at four months compared with those who wrote about emotionally neutral topics. The gains were beyond those attributable to the standard medical care that all participants were receiving, according to the authors.
Expression, not repression. Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash
Meaning, just by writing about stressful events, by sharing their secrets, patients with asthma and rheumatoid arthritis were clinically, measurably, better off than people who kept their thoughts and feelings bottled up. The effects may have lasted longer than four months, but Smythe and his colleagues didn’t follow up to find out.
As someone who is extremely psycho-somatic, meaning I have a strong link between my mind and body, I already know this information. However, what is news to me is the measurable effects. Not only do people feel better emotionally when they express their internal landscape, but researchers have demonstrated their blood pressure drops, their heart rate decreases, and pain levels decline. That’s really freaking cool if you ask me. I love when science confirms something I know to be true anecdotally.
Why am I writing this post? I think it’s because there are likely people out there saying to themselves, “The past is the past. I’m over it. I don’t need to talk about it. Why dwell on something you can’t change?” For those people, my response is, “You can’t change the past, but you can change how it’s affecting your present. How it’s impacting your body. Expressing a stressful event, even if it’s just in a journal, will help you feel better physically. And you don’t have to take my word for it – researchers have found that to be true as well.”
Not only researchers, but spiritual teachers. In fact, mine says, “It is natural for all living beings to search for a way to express themselves fully. Sometimes this expression takes the form of crude physical pleasure, and sometimes that of subtle psychic pleasure.” He also says, “Repression directly affects the subconscious mind. Gradually the psychic structure is severely damaged, and finally the mind is totally changed. The result is that people are inflicted with a defeatist psychology and an inferiority complex.”
That doesn’t sound great to me. I’d rather be strong physically and mentally. I want to feel happy and free. Who knew that could happen with something as simple as writing in a journal for 15 minutes?
I dream of a world where we recognize repressing feelings and past events takes a toll on our physical, mental, and emotional health. A world where we understand it’s our innate desire to express. A world where we realize we’ll feel stronger and happier if we express what’s going on for us. A world where we understand we are only as sick as our secrets.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.