Both. And. When feelings contradict themselves in our psyche

In the processing of trauma, it has been commonplace for me to find that many of the feelings left behind are ones that conflict each other.

I love this person deeply, even though they harmed me so completely.

I am so enraged by this betrayal – I don’t want to spend time with them anymore. AND. I miss their company. I miss that sense of belonging and joking around and our witty banter.

I want to be in this person’s life. AND. I don’t know how to be in this person’s life and still feel like I am taking priority care of myself.

I’ve gotten so used to feeling both sides or all shades of a feeling that I can’t even identify one that isn’t complex when it relates to the trauma.

Of course I am angry. Of course I am disturbed.

The only thing that helps, I now know, is a two-pronged approach.

I let myself feel all the feelings.

If they’re all showing up at once, I’ll ask them to form a line and then I’ll spend some time with each one. Some might need more time than others. Sometimes I’ll get sidetracked by my time with one feeling and by the time I’m ready for the next one, the line has changed order.

I picture it as though we are sitting down for tea and that feeling is my invited guest.

I’ve always loved this imagery put forth by the story of the Buddha inviting the Demon God Mara to tea as a demonstration of reverence and acceptance. It conjures an atmosphere of respect and civility which, as an image, already has the effect for me of introducing a calm to the whirlwind.

In the beginning, I would intentionally invite a feeling to have the spotlight so that I could feel it fully, in all its intensity and charge. Yet untrained, it was not long before it overtook me and I could see myself identifying with the feeling, becoming it, letting it become me.

I have had to practice this consistently and with loads of patience. The process of becoming the observer and creating an energetic distance between my deeper knowing and the feeling is immediately rewarding. That’s what I love about it.

For example, in the beginning of this practice, I would find myself outraged by the fact that the trauma even took place at all. That it went unnoticed by anyone else in my family. It was not uncommon for me to get caught in that feeling for a stretch of time.

Over time, I noticed that the overall weight this kind of feeling created for me was identifiable in my body. It would have a recognizable charge to it – I’d know: there’s THAT feeling. I would start to give attention to where I am holding it in my body. Once I was certain it was in my throat, for example, I could direct intentional support to that area so as to soothe it.

The second piece to this process is a surrender brought about by pure unadulterated radical acceptance.

The acceptance applies to many things: yes, I feel this way, yes, it hurts, yes, it happened, yes, yes, yes.

When saying yes feels false, I know I need to try another angle for giving that feeling the spotlight. There’s something to be said for saying it as though it’s true until it becomes true. And if it’s a stubborn feeling with more to express, that’s my cue to sit back and dialogue with it. I like to imagine I’m talking to little Alex in moments like these because it allows me to reach a part of me that has usually had to keep quiet and secret.

When saying yes feels true, it brings about such a big wave of relief. And the relief comes because I’m no longer resisting the feeling. In nonresistance, I don’t have to add onto the feeling itself that I am unwilling to acknowledge the feeling inside me. That feeling has paid its dues, that feeling demands and deserves to be heard and validated. A surrender follows. Not resignation. Surrender has a different flavor – it’s sweeter than resignation. It’s empowered. Strange that the release of control and resistance should bring about a feeling of being liberated and reinvigorated…

The less I make myself adhere to what I should be feeling, the more room my existing feelings have to spread out, speak out, and disperse. It also leads to a feeling of integration within me. In some of my most integrated moments, I feel whole for making it safe and friendly to feel whatever comes up.

So I let myself feel it all. Both. And.

AND – they just happen to be my initials.