"I'm not depressed. I'm extra-feely.
I'm not anxious. I'm extra-thinky.
I'm not addicted. I'm extra-passionate about lots of things...
some of which may do me harm." --Glennon Doyle Melton
One thing I have learned from mindfulness practice...and as far as I know, Taoism...is that most of us have (as one of my clients called it) an "unhelpful sophistication in our thinking." The part of our brain that analyzes, evaluates, measures, and makes meaning is very often unhelpful. When we give value to something as good or bad, beautiful or ugly, right or wrong, better or worse, we are frequently setting ourselves up for suffering. And as far as I can tell, we are CONSTANTLY doing that. Or maybe it's just me. Or maybe it's just the people in therapy.
I think therapy draws NFs and NTs disproportionately: those are "extra-feely" or "extra-thinky." Those of us who just can't get out of our heads. Who think about life perhaps more than we live it.
Being in our heads splits us off from our experience. It actually takes us away from our lives. It makes us pull inside, away from the people around us. Away from our present moment. There are so many ways we split off.
"This moment is better than that moment."
"This aspect of me is more beautiful than that one."
"I am not who I should be."
"This person is not the person I imagined myself with."
"It doesn't make sense for me to feel this way."
"Tomorrow..." "Ten years from now..." "What if...What if...What if..."
All that is, really, imagination. It's our mind's ability to fantasize. It's in the same family as fiction and delusion. It has its place, but it's not the only voice or the most important voice.We are kidding ourselves if we really think we can predict our futures or live up to our ideals (or that others will live up to them).
What's helped me most is to stop trying so hard to get better. To bring myself back, over and over. What do I feel? Who am I right now? What if I let go of what I want to feel/be...let that go like the clouds passing by...
Often, if someone is feeling anxious, I'll try having them simply sit with it. I'll ask them to describe it to me. What does it feel like in their body? What is the quality of it? Does it move? How intense is it? What if we just invite it into the room? It's welcome here. What would it say to us? (I didn't come up with this approach, of course. :) )
It feels like diving into one of those pitch-black water slides. You don't know when or where you're going to come out. Except, usually within minutes, the person comes out. They land in the shallow pool at the end and the darkness is gone. Often what is left is just...acceptance. Not just, actually. Acceptance is damn hard and dangerous and freeing. Radical acceptance.
