S2 | EP2: Sitting with Hard Feelings

Today's five-years-later review of Season 2 of the podcast is on Episode 2: "Sitting with Hard Feelings."

If you read my reflection on Episodes 1 and 3, "Starting My Unexpected Alcohol-Free Journey (and Where I Am Now)," you'll know I'm revisiting what I shared on the pod back then to see if my perspectives have changed all these years later. 

I'm also archiving some of those episodes, and this is one of them. I'm sure I'll publish an updated convo on being with hard, uncomfortable feelings. For now, I give a thorough summary of what I shared in the episode, along with what I'd add or say differently today.

* * *

In Episode 2, I shared that I had been swimming in lots of hard-to-feel emotions, partly due to the COVID-19 pandemic (we were two months into the first lockdown). I was also one month alcohol free and could no longer rely on drinking to numb myself from all the grief and anxiety I felt.

Of course, I wasn't the only one. So many others were going through their own struggles. I was hearing it all, from immense anger to grief, to loneliness, sadness, and so on.  

What I noticed was how challenging it was (and is) for people to sit with those hard feelings. By sitting (or being) with them, I mean the practice of turning our awareness to those feelings in that moment instead of disconnecting from them.

Sometimes, simply giving that feeling our attention can lead to it settling. Other times, we might need to go through more of a process to move through that emotional cycle, for example, by more deeply exploring what that feeling is trying to tell us or tending to an underlying trauma wound if it's there.

In the episode, I acknowledged that this is easier said than done, in part because we've been conditioned socially/culturally to push away our feelings.

We're often told from a young age, "Don't cry, don't be sad," "Just be thankful for what you have," "Don't be angry, have compassion." Men particularly are told to "man up" when showing emotions like sadness, as doing so is presumably a sign of weakness – although, people of all genders are taught similarly.

Certain so-called spiritual leaders in the wellness space also contribute to this when they tell those seeking relief from their anxiety, depression, shame, grief, and anger that these feelings merely equate to negative vibes. And to "just think positively" or meditate yourself into calmness.

"The issue becomes when it's being taught as the only thing to do for one’s healing, and that there isn't also some guidance or messaging that says it's also okay to feel the really hard stuff too. And that the knee-jerk reaction doesn't always have to be to push it away or get rid of it by saying positive affirmations in its place. There is room for both things to be present in our lives."

What I didn't add to the conversation then is that the expression of anger by, for example, racialized people is intentionally vilified and painted as dangerous by those in power. It is part of the oppressor's strategy to quell the masses, to make people complacent so that when we see them commit atrocities against humanity – like the genocides in Gaza and Congo, or state-sanctioned violence at home – we cannot easily access or express our anger to mobilize against them.

Similarly, when it comes to grief, @bipocdeathgrieftalk writes: "As racialized folks, we are often experiencing grief from multiple angles, while having to mask much of our pain in order to be able to meet our basic needs. We are often experiencing intergenerational grief, invalidation by white-supremacist systems, and being forced to pretend like everything is fine, being given a very short period of time to grieve and experience the fullness of our feelings (if we're allowed at all)."

Ultimately, all of these experiences tell us it is unacceptable to feel and express these types of emotions.

We take on the belief that if we aren't able to shift from those feelings, it means we are deficient and incapable of being "strong." (It's kind of ironic, because I know the incredible amount of strength it takes to delve into these darker, uncomfortable places inside ourselves.)

We might come to fear that if we do express certain emotions, like sadness or anger, we'll be met with backlash, rejection, or avoidance from our loved ones, community, or those holding power over us.

It's no wonder many of us come to disown our emotional parts.

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In Episode 2, I also shared my viewpoint that when it's hard for us to sit with our own uncomfortable feelings, we might then find it challenging to be with others' similar feelings too.

For example, if I find it uncomfortable to be with my anger, perhaps because I've learned to associate anger with danger, then when I see someone else's expression of anger, I might react by putting up my guard or trying to placate them into "calming down."

Or if I find it uncomfortable to see someone in grief, because I've learned to associate grieving with "dwelling" in the past or not being positive and grateful, then when I see someone else expressing their sorrow, I might show my impatience over them not "moving on" fast enough or push them to "cheer up."

The past three years of being in a therapist-training program has taught me a lot about the ways we tend to respond when we see someone immersed in more "mucky" feelings (e.g., intellectualizing, giving advice, rescuing, managing) and what usually feels more supportive instead (e.g., telling the other how their share impacted us, what we feel hearing them), at least as a first response. 

In the episode, I invited us to reflect in that moment:

• Do I feel the need to push the other to feel differently than where they're at now? Why?
• Do I believe that them feeling that way is bad or undesirable? Where/Who might I have learned that from?
• Have I had my own moments feeling what the other is experiencing now? What kind of response would I have wanted from the other to feel heard/seen in that moment?
• What kind of responses have made me shut down instead when I've tried to share how I feel?

On the surface, it might seem like we're just trying to make the other person feel better. But in these situations, it's often ourselves that we're trying to protect from having to stay in the uncomfortable feelings with the other. 

It's taken a lot of work for me to feel comfortable with the range of my own emotions. If we're used to shutting down or withdrawing when the hard feelings come up, or even being engulfed by them, it might feel foreign to start the process of sitting with those feelings in a contained/supported way on our own.

For example, I described in my blog post "Letting Anger Come Out of the Corner," how disconnected I had become from anger and the slow, tender therapy work I did to reconnect with and not be afraid of it.

In that case, I first needed my therapist's support to create a space where my anger would feel welcome to even make an appearance. Through experiencing how compassionately and directly my therapist engaged with the angry part of myself when it emerged, I learned what actually helps me to move through the anger and understand what it's trying to tell me.

(Gloria Eid and I also share about our experiences befriending grief in the episode "Dancing with Grief: In Personal Loss and Collective Suffering" – you can listen to it here.)

Eventually, I could be that compassionate witness for myself, although I'm now more likely to reach out to my loved ones when I'm deep in the muck. As I experience being able to show my whole self with people I trust, I believe more and more that I don't have to shoulder the load alone.

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On that last note, in Episode 2, I mentioned that as the person sharing, we also play a role in building relationships where we do feel met when we vulnerably let the other into our emotional world.

As someone who felt let down a lot in my earlier years when I expressed "big emotions," I learned to not trust that others could provide the support I needed when I felt sad, angry, etc. I became self-sufficient, relying on myself to get through hard times to avoid disappointment.

But I've learned that, one, most people haven't learned how to "hold space" for all the reasons I've talked about in this post. We're all figuring it out and it's never going to look perfect. And two, I can take the step of communicating what I need from the other when I share, including when I do feel disappointed by their response. 

In the episode, I said I hadn't yet told anyone: “I'm going through a hard time. I want to talk about it, but I'm not looking for any advice. I'm just hoping to have an ear and your comfort and support.”

Over five years later, I feel awe that asking for what I need in this way is so much easier. Knowing now what's possible, I've been quicker to step back from people who don't yet have the capacity (or perhaps desire) to be with all the parts of me, which creates more room for those who can to come closer.

I'm so grateful to have more people in my life now who are here for all of it with no judgement. My hope is that these kinds of supportive relationships become more accessible to everyone. That these ways of relating to one another become normalized and a part of people's learning earlier on in life. 

Because ultimately, all of these emotional experiences, however uncomfortable they may feel at times, are a normal part of our human experience. When we go through life rejecting those parts, we inadvertently miss out on experiencing our humanness more fully.

The oppressive powers that be will continue doing everything they can to keep people numb, overwhelmed, and without these strong supports. But we can do our part in building the more relational, human world we need.

Janice xo

P.S. If you found these reflections interesting, you might want to read my post "Sustaining Activism for Palestine | Reflections on the Gaza Genocide (Part 2)" for more on processing emotions, including possible supports and important caveats to being with our feelings.