Big Feelings

We moved the coral chair away from the window and across the room to sit next to the printed chair in the family room. As we sat the chair down, I took a step back. My body tightened in a visceral reaction. There was an onslaught of emotions so big and complex that I immediately shoved them down, suppressed my thoughts about them and carried on. I was supposed to be happy. I helped my girls put up the Christmas tree. We set out my beautiful houses to make my Christmas village. I felt my body tighten more as all the feelings I wanted to ignore multiplied.

Every time I walked into the family room, I couldn’t get over the two chairs side-by-side. I couldn’t feel the holiday cheer that my cozy room normally evoked.

During this season of holiday cheer, family and gratitude, I only felt dread with a dash of regret. I ruminated on the fact that I hadn’t driven home last year to spend Thanksgiving with my Dad. I didn’t know it would be his last. I didn’t want to go to his wife’s family’s house for Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to pretend all day that I was happy and be fake nice to people who made me feel uncomfortable. So I didn’t. I missed my last Thanksgiving with my dad.

Now, the stupid chairs sat next to each another reminding me that there would be no one seated in them Christmas morning. They would be empty. All I could think of was how many Christmas’s I hadn’t let my parents come down to watch my girls open gifts because I had to keep the peace with my husband. Regret.

I moved the chair back to its corner because I just couldn’t look at it any longer.

This morning, as I sat in the chair that my Dad opened gifts in last year, I asked myself what emotions I was suppressing that were creating so much suffering my body. Over the past two weeks, my pain has been increasing incrementally. It’s as if my body is twisting and tightening against itself trying to turn away from the pain. As I ask, I hear, feel, and experience grief. Tears begin running down my cheeks as the grief spills over accompanied by anguish. I let myself feel it in its entirety. The magnitude of it wracking sobs from my chest. I am entering the abyss of emotions I try to suppress. I fear that they will swallow me, and that I will never feel joy again.

As the grief and anguish ease and release through my tears, I gently ask myself what else I feel. Regret. I regretted all the Christmases that my kids were little and I told my parents to come down after presents because my ex-husband didn’t want them here. I mourned that my first Christmas with Isabella, when she was only 4 days old, I told my parents not to come at all. I let the memory and pain out. I longed for my mom and dad that Christmas because giving birth is hard. I grieved for my 30 year old self who chose making someone else comfortable over herself. I had so much postpartum anxiety and truly wanted my parents that year.

My ex-husband had said no to my parents coming for Christmas. He believed that we had to create our own little family. When he did, I defaulted to my childhood conditioning, I needed to make everyone else happy around me to feel safe and be lovable. Since I lived with him and had to interact daily with his disapproval and anger if I argued, I chose to agree with his request. Now, 17 years later, I am finally releasing the disappointment in myself for not standing up for my needs.

My need to be loved trumped my desire to see my parents and have them for Christmas. Inside I had wanted help. I couldn’t say it out loud though, I didn’t even realize that was my programming then. My belief that I had to please others to be loved still controlled me. Now, I felt such deep sorrow that there would never be another Christmas morning together.

The ironic part was that my parents had conditioned me to be that way. I learned as a child that I was only allowed in the room with them when I was happy and amicable. If I was surly, sad or angry, I was sent away to “find my smile”. Then, in my marriage, I carried on the pattern of pleasing someone else at my parent’s expense, and mine.

As my tears fell over this conditioning earlier this morning, I asked what else I felt.

Anger. I felt so much anger that I hadn’t stood up for what I wanted. I hadn’t been strong enough to fight for what I wanted because I was afraid I wouldn’t be lovable. It ended up that it hadn’t matter how hard I tried. Disappointment. Hurt people hurt people. I always felt I wasn’t chosen over his needs and desire not to feel his pain. And as I grappled with this ruminating thought, a wave of rejection washed over me. I sobbed again over the loss of my marriage. I never wanted to raise children alone. I never wanted to be divorced. I never wanted to reject him and become his villain in his story as he had become mine. After feeling rejected for so long though, I had finally chosen myself. More regret flooded my body as I let myself feel it in it’s entirety.

The fear of being swallowed by my big feelings started to melt as I let them out one by one. What else?

Disappointment. I felt disappointed that the seats will be empty this year.

Sad. I feel so sad that my girls don’t have grandparents to enjoy Christmas with them around the tree.

Disgust. Surprised by how strongly it oozed out of my gut, I asked about what? The year my mom had died, my dad and his new wife had sat in the chairs. I didn’t even have one Christmas with my dad where he wasn’t married. His own grief had driven him to marry so quickly. Then I felt Rage. I let it ball up inside me and come out in a silent sob. I felt like I had lost him when he remarried and left me alone in my grief for my mom. I felt like he had replaced her and chose to suppress his grief. I could not. I have grieved them both for almost 4 years now.

Abandonment. I felt it wash over me.

Anger. Regret. Sadness. Betrayal. Betrayed that I was told I was like a daughter to his new wife; and yet after death, no longer treated as one.

Sorrow.

Relief. Relief that I don’t have to have a relationship.

Freedom. Freedom from expectations I do not want to live up to.

Peace. I have all these feelings. I am safe. It is ok to let them go, to release the tension from my body, to feel them in their entirety. They don’t last forever. They pass. My sobs have turned to sniffles. I am safe. I am doing my best. I am ok. I don’t have to be happy to be lovable. I am. And being is enough.

I am sharing this experience with you because I don’t want you to feel alone in your big feelings. We all have big feelings. They just are. We are not our thoughts or feelings. When we hold them in, we end up suffering. We suffer with depression, physical pain and emotional stress. Letting them out, feeling them and breathing through them is the only way I have found to feel lighter and be healthier. It helps me live authentically. It helps me not act them out with other people as a way to release them.

In a recent podcast by Mel Robbins, she said “people choose attachment over authenticity.” That was the story of my life. By feeling all the parts of myself, I can choose authenticity. I can be whole. I can stop my suffering.

I am lovable. You are lovable, big feels and all.

If you need a safe space to release your big feelings, I encourage you to seek therapy that resonates with you with someone you trust. If you feel drawn to energy work, I am happy to hold the space for you and help you uncover your trapped emotions and release them.