"I take a problem and chew on it 'til all the flavor's gone, and then stick it in my hair."
--Vivi, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, 2002
Vivi has this revelation after she tires from fighting against her daughter's choice to write of her dysfunctional childhood. Hiding from the truth threatens to wear them all out. What happened, happened. Everyone did the best they could. But not until they are ready to deal with it will any of them find healing.
I read an article in which the writer paraphrased what she learned about healing from the teaching of Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist monk. It reminds me of the inner healing I have experienced through Christian counseling. I share it as it is resonating with me now.
Do not ignore or suppress negative thoughts or emotions; acknowledge and honor them.
This seems radically different from the most available advice I hear quite frequently. We are encouraged to not say anything at all if we do not have anything nice to say. But if we stop talking for that very reason, we are expected to answer for it--which, by the way, is impossible if one seeks to be honest. Acknowledgement means precisely that. Not overly dramatizing or dwelling upon. Simply stating what it is that is keeping us from moving beyond it.
Honoring an emotion that is causing pain is a twist in the socially acceptable playbook. Won't saying it is ok to be angry, depressed, sad, or whatever it is we are feeling, somehow rip apart the seams of what is considered to be normal behavior?
Identify the specifics of what is causing the upset.
This is where I have generally made an appointment with someone to talk things over, but talking to God works, too. If I say it aloud or write it down, it helps even more.
Identifying specific emotions is a bit trickier since sadness and depression are very closely related, as are the vast range of angry emotions. What is annoying, like the continual dripping of a broken sink, is different from that which makes one's heart beat faster, face get redder, and cause one to either need to go running or reach for a Guinness. It is often easier to stop the pain with these surefire methods than allow the emotions to lie there, exposed. We want to cover them up as soon as we can. They hurt.
Identify imagery these emotions create.
As a writer and an artist, I identify strongly with this concept. Recently I said in a group I feel like I'm in a free fall off a cliff, even though I am certain God will eventually catch me. No one responded. Perhaps I should have said that I feel lost on a country road in the dark, recalling a dream I once had. Or maybe a more recent dream of rolling a vehicle on an icy road and being trapped, unable to free myself . . . slowing freezing . . . to death. Not everyone is a writer or an artist, of which I am often made painfully aware.
It is easier to see me experiencing whatever it is I am feeling than to take myself out of the scene and see the emotion as an object, as this exercise suggests. What would my depressing thoughts look like? A tray of burnt biscuits? A beautiful cottage with a collapsed roof? A pile of ripped up books?
I picture a large ball and chain--cold and heavy, weighing me down every step I take--toward a lake, as I am unable to stop myself, even though I am aware that I will not be able to swim.
Breathe.
Always a good idea and not an easy thing to do--especially if one is in a free fall . . . or drowning. Just saying.
Picture yourself holding the image of these emotions lovingly, close to the heart with compassion, like one would hold a newborn baby.
Holding this ugly, painful emotion with love threatens to shake me to my core. I want to get rid of the thing, not turn it into a pet! And yet, admitting its existence and facing it is what will allow the healing to begin--as painful as it may be to get to this point.
As Christians, we are constantly told to take our pain to the foot of the cross and give it all to Jesus. We imagine the burden being taken and carried by Someone far better able to handle its weight. Perhaps if we fully uncovered what we've dragged to the cross, we will know what it is that is being taken from us for future reference.
Say to the image you will hold it with compassion until it is ready to go.
This is my favorite part, as self-defeating as it may sound to those eager to let it go, move on, and just keep smiling. Grieving the loss of unmet hopes and dreams, unrealized potential, unexpected turns on the road of life, takes time. A lot of time. Saying something is God's plan, whether or not it is true, rings hollow in the ears of those experiencing deep pain. It may be better to sit in a space that only compassion can fill and allow the tears to fall. We were never told we would not suffer. We were only told we would not have to suffer alone.
I will hold on to my current pain with compassion until it is ready to go.
I trust that day is not far off.
--Vivi, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, 2002
Vivi has this revelation after she tires from fighting against her daughter's choice to write of her dysfunctional childhood. Hiding from the truth threatens to wear them all out. What happened, happened. Everyone did the best they could. But not until they are ready to deal with it will any of them find healing.
I read an article in which the writer paraphrased what she learned about healing from the teaching of Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist monk. It reminds me of the inner healing I have experienced through Christian counseling. I share it as it is resonating with me now.
Do not ignore or suppress negative thoughts or emotions; acknowledge and honor them.
This seems radically different from the most available advice I hear quite frequently. We are encouraged to not say anything at all if we do not have anything nice to say. But if we stop talking for that very reason, we are expected to answer for it--which, by the way, is impossible if one seeks to be honest. Acknowledgement means precisely that. Not overly dramatizing or dwelling upon. Simply stating what it is that is keeping us from moving beyond it.
Honoring an emotion that is causing pain is a twist in the socially acceptable playbook. Won't saying it is ok to be angry, depressed, sad, or whatever it is we are feeling, somehow rip apart the seams of what is considered to be normal behavior?
Identify the specifics of what is causing the upset.
This is where I have generally made an appointment with someone to talk things over, but talking to God works, too. If I say it aloud or write it down, it helps even more.
Identifying specific emotions is a bit trickier since sadness and depression are very closely related, as are the vast range of angry emotions. What is annoying, like the continual dripping of a broken sink, is different from that which makes one's heart beat faster, face get redder, and cause one to either need to go running or reach for a Guinness. It is often easier to stop the pain with these surefire methods than allow the emotions to lie there, exposed. We want to cover them up as soon as we can. They hurt.
Identify imagery these emotions create.
As a writer and an artist, I identify strongly with this concept. Recently I said in a group I feel like I'm in a free fall off a cliff, even though I am certain God will eventually catch me. No one responded. Perhaps I should have said that I feel lost on a country road in the dark, recalling a dream I once had. Or maybe a more recent dream of rolling a vehicle on an icy road and being trapped, unable to free myself . . . slowing freezing . . . to death. Not everyone is a writer or an artist, of which I am often made painfully aware.
It is easier to see me experiencing whatever it is I am feeling than to take myself out of the scene and see the emotion as an object, as this exercise suggests. What would my depressing thoughts look like? A tray of burnt biscuits? A beautiful cottage with a collapsed roof? A pile of ripped up books?
I picture a large ball and chain--cold and heavy, weighing me down every step I take--toward a lake, as I am unable to stop myself, even though I am aware that I will not be able to swim.
Breathe.
Always a good idea and not an easy thing to do--especially if one is in a free fall . . . or drowning. Just saying.
Picture yourself holding the image of these emotions lovingly, close to the heart with compassion, like one would hold a newborn baby.
Holding this ugly, painful emotion with love threatens to shake me to my core. I want to get rid of the thing, not turn it into a pet! And yet, admitting its existence and facing it is what will allow the healing to begin--as painful as it may be to get to this point.
As Christians, we are constantly told to take our pain to the foot of the cross and give it all to Jesus. We imagine the burden being taken and carried by Someone far better able to handle its weight. Perhaps if we fully uncovered what we've dragged to the cross, we will know what it is that is being taken from us for future reference.
Say to the image you will hold it with compassion until it is ready to go.
This is my favorite part, as self-defeating as it may sound to those eager to let it go, move on, and just keep smiling. Grieving the loss of unmet hopes and dreams, unrealized potential, unexpected turns on the road of life, takes time. A lot of time. Saying something is God's plan, whether or not it is true, rings hollow in the ears of those experiencing deep pain. It may be better to sit in a space that only compassion can fill and allow the tears to fall. We were never told we would not suffer. We were only told we would not have to suffer alone.
I will hold on to my current pain with compassion until it is ready to go.
I trust that day is not far off.
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