Gunhild Archer, counselor

“Feel your feelings!”

You can say it’s been my motto.

I have advocated for the normalization of feelings for years. Sometimes from a place of compassion and understanding, other times from a more insistent energy. I have tried to say, “We need to feel our feelings” and “it’s OK to feel your feelings” (the quality of your life depends on it) in a thousand different ways, and I have done the only thing I know how to do: I have practiced as I preached. My practice for the last 10 (!) years has focused on seeing and acknowledging my emotions, to become an ally to my feelings! Yet… Sneakingly… Like a ninja… Deep down there was still a subtle intention of trying to change my feelings. I was, on some level, still sitting with myself so that I could take away the intensity of how I felt. I wanted to come back feeling regulated, understanding, and forgiving.

I used healing as a means to become someone who didn’t make demands. It felt empowering to validate and acknowledge my feelings, and it was. It was a huge shift in my development to go from minimizing, shaming, and denying my own feelings to actively sitting with, witnessing, and welcoming those same feelings.

Consciously I was in therapy because my feelings mattered, but deep down I wanted to process my feelings so I wouldn’t have to ask the people closest to take my feelings into account. I (!) understood that my feelings were valid, but they were MY responsibility. I didn’t want to add to my partner’s responsibilities by asking him to listen to, sit with, or potentially accommodate how I felt.

Subconsciously I also tried to make my feelings get on board with what I considered my new reality. “Your friends have proven that they want to stay, you shouldn’t be scared.” I tried to make the terrified part of me see that my friends were loyal and committed, that they wouldn’t up and leave. I thought, if she could just see that she would stop feeling anxious. I would stop feeling anxious.

I didn’t like how every minor conflict made me feel cold and my initial response was “this is it; they’re giving up, we’re done”. I feared them leaving, and I feared myself leaving. I didn’t want to constantly anticipate the relationship to end, nor did I feel like I had a reason to. I had enough proof to NOT expect the worst. At that point, my friends had been in my life for 5, 7, and 9 years, we have been through enough conflicts to know not just HOW to work through conflicts, but to also trust each other’s commitment TO work through conflicts.

A part of me wants to stop feeling afraid. I want the 5, 7, and 9 years to fill me with trust, but that’s not where I am. I don’t know if I will even get there.

My friends and I have been through a lot. They have proven themselves to be trustworthy, and in many ways, I trust them. I can also hold the possibility that something might happen that ends the trust, maybe for a period, maybe forever. Knowing it might end doesn’t mean I stop wanting them to be part of my life. I love them. AND I’m scared.

It’s not about either or. I’m carrying the part of me who lost everyone she loved. Her heart aches. Simultaneously, somehow, I still love. I practice showing up with transparency and hold the vulnerability inherent in having said yes to a long-term relationship, with myself, and with my loved ones.