If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you know the drill. You know you have to feel emotions that arise on a daily basis, because avoiding and therefore storing them in your body creates tension and pain. Obviously, no one is going to be perfect at feeling emotions. However, I, like you, have the goal to feel as pain-free and healthy as possible. This keeps me motivated to continually allow myself to have emotions, albeit imperfectly.
Every now and then, I fall back into the don’t-feel mode. I start making self-judgments like “I should be okay with this already,” or “I shouldn’t get THAT angry, for heaven’s sake … “ This usually means there is something I REALLY need to feel and I am busy convincing myself I am fine, it’s all good, and I’ll just attend to a few more emails instead of stopping to feel.
This past month, I noticed creeping tension accumulating in my back, and I knew I needed to feel something. I did some avoiding, then some distracting, and a little bit of eating. Strangely, none of that magically eliminated my tension. Finally, I took a deep breath and dove into my own psyche. I should have known. It was stored anger.
For me, anger is the hardest emotion. I’ve worked for years to allow sadness, and now I can pretty much allow myself a good cry whenever I need it. I’ve gotten much friendlier with fear, and I can allow it to be present for the most part. Anger, on the other hand, is almost always the culprit when I say to myself, “Gosh, I just don’t KNOW what I’m feeling. Hmmm. What on EARTH could it be?”
I believe deeply in honoring emotions, the body, and the mind and how they work together. I decided I needed some help accessing what was stored in my body. I booked an appointment series with my chiropractor, who also does intense (by that I mean hideously painful) myofascial and deep tissue release. If I had any anger stored in my muscles and tissues, he would definitely help it start to flow.
After last week’s session, I drove home (blinking the tears of pain out of my eyes—the man has thumbs of steel) and got back to work. He’d done a new type of fascial release that hurt so much I thought I would pass out. He attacked muscles on the top of my head that were highly offended by the assault. Yet, it felt oddly good afterward. I sat, typing away at my desk.
Suddenly, a tsunami of anger exploded into my awareness. Wow. I did some Conscious Complaining, I felt it, I talked to a fellow coach. I thought I was doing pretty good, allowing the anger to flow. Yet, the muscle tension was still there. I was a little puzzled.
A couple of days later, I was visiting my mom, chatting with her in the kitchen. I told her about the anger explosion, and she said, “Oh, yes, I like to have tantrums when that happens.” I’ve tossed around the word tantrum before, but I had a sense something really good was about to be revealed. Sure enough, she began to demonstrate, and something indescribable came over me. It was a sense of relief, a giant easing of years of tension. It was permission to let go. She really got INTO the tantrum. She yelled. She mocked. She moved her whole body. It was spectacular, and impossible not to join in. Pretty soon I was having a tantrum, too. I was shaking all parts of my body, I was being a three-year-old, and I was letting it all out. It was kind of like a tantrum dance, though lying down and kicking our legs was still involved. (Stolen from the classic three-year-old tantrum move.)
