Embracing The Overwhelm
Where do we begin when we are overwhelmed with emotions we can’t identify or convey? How do we learn to embrace something we don’t even recognize?
I’ve been riding a tsunami of emotions over the last few weeks, trying to grasp the language for what I’ve been feeling. I write frequently about sitting with our emotions, about leaning into them for understanding, a practice I typically do very well. January, however, presented me with some unexpected, and anything but typical circumstances that have thrown me into a vortex of overwhelm. I spent New Year’s Eve in the emergency room with a blood clot in my leg that, as my doctor said, sprinkled like confetti into my lungs, causing pulmonary embolism. I was extremely lucky to have caught it when I did, as I was in imminent danger. During my 14 hour experience, my mind and body went through a myriad of uncomfortable emotions and I have spent the better part of the month working through and unveiling their underlying source. Navigating this uncharted emotional territory has been a tremendous undertaking, calling on every coping skill I’ve ever attained.
I’ve attempted several times to share my experience on these pages, yet I have been unable to put my thoughts together, about anything. Everything was disjointed and messy. This has been a deeply personal experience that has left me lingering in fragility and vulnerability. I guess it’s only natural that it would affect my creativity. Although it would have been easy to fall into despair, and some days I did, I realized that this was guiding me to a higher level of awareness, if I allowed it. I would have to be willing to do the work, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Part of that work is giving a voice to my process and speaking some truths I’ve been reluctant to say out loud. So here it is, I hope it makes sense and bear with me because it’s long…
For me, the most logical antidote for my upheaval was curiosity. When we meet someone new and want to know them better we ask questions, lean in, listen and remain curious about how they respond. Our genuine interest helps guide the conversation so we can learn more about who they are. Our emotions are very much the same. When we are thrown into unexpected, disruptive life challenges and experience emotional chaos and confusion, that is our body signaling us that we have something to discover. The feelings and thoughts that manifest from our emotions invite us to explore, to seek understanding, to extract meaning. The difficulty, of course, is that they’re not tangible like someone we meet. They present through our bodies and our denial or acceptance of them, which requires an intuitive approach to listening. And that, my friends, is a practice that takes time, patience and repetition. I will tell you that it also requires courage and vulnerability because we are tapping into deep subconscious responses that are often based in pain.
I began by offering myself solitude to quiet the chatter and surrender to the process of feeling everything, no matter how uncomfortable, and it was very uncomfortable. I allowed myself to go back to the vivid emotions of that night. I recalled sitting in the ER feeling a sense of dread and urgency for what was happening in my body, knowing I could die. I also felt a visceral, albeit strange sense of calm. Instinctively, I knew that came from a place of resilience in me, a muscle I have developed over time, that holds hope through any difficulty. The tape that played on repeat in my head was telling me it was okay to be afraid and it was also okay to be at peace with whatever outcome presented itself, even if the worst happened. Along with that, my thoughts constantly focused on my children, our deep connection and all the dreams they have not yet fulfilled that I want to be here to see. It fueled my resolve to come out of there alive. The rest of my feelings, however, were crashing through me so swiftly I couldn’t put a name to them. It made me hesitate for some time before reaching out to my friends and daughters, even though I knew they would want to help me through this and I needed their support. As expected, they all showed up for me offering whatever I could possibly need, both emotionally and physically, yet, I was at a loss. I wanted everything and nothing at the same time and I cannot recall ever feeling that submerged in perplexity or sheer exhaustion. The gift they gave me was the certainty that I was not alone as I sat by myself in a room overflowing with strangers, waiting for medical attention. That was everything. That was what I clung to when nothing else felt steady.
Once I was home I would face a new wave of sensations over and over that would invite me to be more mindful. I remember sharing with a friend at one point that “I feel nothing but harsh edges right now.” I was unmoored and finding my center again was necessary. Curiosity became my response to everything and would allow me to peel back layers of complexities going through me, connecting me more deeply with self. I’ve never been one to panic in a crisis, but when faced with circumstances with no answers, it’s human to get into our head, create thoughts and attach a story that isn’t necessarily true. Worry becomes a negative coping skill that grabs imaginary endings from the future and distorts the reality of the moment we’re in, spiraling us into more chaos. Fear is almost always the deeper emotion behind worry and understanding it without judgment can help us move through it.
The truth is, my fear of dying was based in fact, and spending time thinking my way into the worst-case scenario wasn’t serving me. Ultimately, it wasn’t about giving in to the fear, it was about honoring that space and giving it room to be understood because it was not going to leave until I did. That’s a universal truth. Yeah, I know, it sucks. Avoidance can be really pleasant for a while but in the end, very unhealthy. When we own what is happening to us and detach ourselves from the outcome, we take control of our response to it. From there I reframed my thinking and focused on being proactive toward the strongest, healthiest version of me.
The other important and unexpected trigger that surfaced during my time of surrender was this; at my core I felt a familiar sense of unworthiness, which seems to be deeply entwined with my physical well-being. At first it was frustrating to think that after all the work I’ve done to heal from negative childhood voices that this still bubbles up. I decided to listen as I would to a friend needing comfort and learned that subconsciously a part of me still attaches my worth to my ability to accomplish things, to do something for people. The beauty is that now I see it immediately and recognize that the pain it creates was all born of lies from an abusive upbringing. I am enough, always, especially in my flawed humanness. It took a while for my head to hear what my heart already knew, but I got there. My health issues are not a result of some negligence on my part and do not in any way diminish who I am as a person. My friends were gracious enough to let me share these dark feelings. They cried with me and held my hand. They reminded me who I am beyond what is happening to me, and that they are not burdened by my existence, they are blessed by it. Sometimes we need that affirmation, and in it, we find healing.
Worthiness is not about doing. It is our birthright. We are all worthy. As is.
During this month of realigning, this is what I have come to know; it’s okay for me to feel angry, afraid or uncertain and still believe in my own resiliency to handle it. I can face feelings that scare me and not be sucked under by them. Not every challenge has a solution, not every conflict can be resolved or figured out and the only thing that is in my control is my response. Leaning in and learning from our emotions and the ensuing feelings is vital for our well-being, our relationship with ourselves and others. Triggers are always clues to healing. There is no shortcut to sitting with your feelings.
Courage is cultivated from overcoming, it grows from repetition of handling all of those raw, unexpected fucking devastations that we never saw coming. It is a choice. It is a decision. And sometimes, just when I think life has knocked me over and may crush me, something happens and I’m still standing. That something is me. I’ve decided to still be standing. What we do with every experience will shape and inform whether or not we build resilience. Healthwise, I am still not out of the woods, there are many answers I do not have and my future is uncertain. But so is everyone’s. So I’m just going to go out and live my one and only beautiful freaking life with gratitude, cherish my daughters and my friends and roll with whatever I’m given. And when my body sends me a signal, I’m going to thank her. And listen.
