The Courage to Face Emotions Head On

Emotional turmoil is scary. 

It’s riddled with uncertainty, discomfort, and doubt.

And because of that we do everything to avoid it.

We distract ourselves. We ignore our emotions. We prevent ourselves from digging deep and asking the tough questions.

Sometimes, that’s what’s necessary for survival. More often, it’s counterproductive. 

Last year, I found myself in the latter camp. 

I was dealing with some heartbreak and facing being single for the first time since I was twenty. After nearly 6 years of constant companionship, I felt truly lonely. 

For some, that might feel like nothing, but for me it was daunting. And when we begin to experience a foreign feeling — particularly an unwanted one — we go into “SOS” mode and do what we can to dodge the discomfort.  

So, what did I do? I launched myself into full-fledged “distraction mode.” 

Between seeing friends and family, working out, playing team sports, and dancing, I did not have a single free night during the week. I did not let myself succumb to idleness because I was — unknowingly — scared of facing pain. So, my life became about running from it. 

At first, I thought I was taking the healthy approach. Unlike shutting the world out or turning to substances to ease the pain, there wasn’t anything inherently “wrong” with what I was doing. Wasn’t this the gold standard for a heartbroken-yet-well-adjusted person? 

Not quite.

See, healthy forms of distraction (social connection, physical activity, etc.) masquerade as a 100% productive process. As a result, my busy-bee lifestyle was applauded by much of my close circle. 

And this actually isn't a bad playbook for emotional recovery. But taken to an extreme, it can be detrimental. 

The problem is that, eventually, we run out of steam. I was trying to run a marathon every single week, but my mind and body just couldn’t keep up.

That’s when reality came rushing in. 

Though I knew it in my core during the distraction months, the fact that I had not done any work to process and let go of the pain, hurt, and anger finally crept up on me. So as soon as I sat down to catch my breath, the vicious thoughts, the loneliness, and the fear all came rushing back, eager to have front row seats in my consciousness yet again. 

Fast-forward a year and I am, once again, facing a period of emotional difficulty. 

But this time, I’ve learned my lesson. 

Instead of running from the pain, I’ve decided to face it head on. 

How to do that is challenging, but I’d like to share the two approaches that, in combination, have been invaluable in propelling me forwards. 

The first is the well-known process of  “labeling” — a technique that involves noting whichever emotion we’re experiencing in any given moment, reminding ourselves to meet it with acceptance rather than judgment or resistance. Being able to pinpoint the precise emotion we’re feeling — beyond simply “happy”, “sad”, and “mad” and into “amusement”, “heartbroken”, and “contempt” — we can more accurately address and process it. 

As Dr. Brené Brown puts it in Atlas of the Heart:

“Without accurate language, we struggle to get the help we need, we don’t always regulate or manage our emotions and experiences in a way that allows us to move through them productively, and our self-awareness is diminished.”  

If you’re having trouble identifying your emotions at a more granular level, this book outlines inspiring and relatable definitions of each one — it’s an important read that I continually come back to when I’m facing tough times. It’s funny but sometimes just identifying and reading about what I’m experiencing is enough to start its release.

Other times, it’s not — and that’s where Step 2 comes in. 

In the wonderful book Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames, the late Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh paints a beautiful process for how to handle anger. He posits that resisting and shaming our anger only makes its hold on us stronger. Instead, he argues that we need to shift our relationship with the emotion — to one of nurture, care, and love. 

By accepting and looking after our anger — like a baby, he suggests — we ease the anger’s pain and therefore its impact on us. 

So, putting all this together, I’ve come up with my own meditation to carry me through the wave of difficult emotions I’m enduring (and am sure to endure in the future). 

Instead of piling on the distractions, I’ve started lying down, closing my eyes, deepening my breath, and labeling the emotions as they come up — as quickly or as slowly as they change. Then, I picture myself holding that emotion close to my heart. Caring for it. Nurturing it. 

Slowly, my fear of feeling all the feelings — the heartache, the loneliness, the apprehension — dissipates. My heart rate returns to normal levels. My stomach no roller feels like it’s doing flips. 

I feel grounded. 

And I feel so damn proud of myself for facing something so scary head on.

I’m done running.