The power of allowing
Learning not to fight what is — in yourself or others — and allowing what is to simply be what is.
We all have that friend or family member who never listens — who instead tells you to get over it, that it’s not that bad, that it could be much worse, that everything happens for a reason, that you’re probably mistaken in your interpretation of the situation, that time heals all… and on, and on, and on.
And… we are all that friend sometimes, too.
It’s natural to want to ease the pain of our loved ones, or even the pain of a stranger. Seeing someone else in pain activates our mirror neurons, the nervous system cells in our brain that cause us to experience similar physical, mental, and emotion sensations as the person we see right before our eyes.
Have you ever cried and felt sad, simply because someone else was crying and felt sad, even if the cause of their sorrow did not directly affect you? Have you ever felt nauseous as you watched someone else get sick? Watched a video of someone take a poorly aimed baseball to the stomach and felt a sinking feeling in your own gut? Watched a horror movie and noticed your own heart was racing and your own palms sweaty, despite being safe at home on your couch?
This is a biological response that is in place, in theory, either because of, or to ensure, the vital social connection that helped humans survive as a species. Simply put, we are wired to feel not just for ourselves, but for others, too. We are wired to be compassionate, and to feel called to help others in distress. Without this interdependence and social-emotional connection, we wouldn’t be around today.
So it’s no surprise that when we see someone in pain, we try to ease that pain. Either for the right reasons — we feel empathy for them and don’t want them to suffer — or the wrong reasons… we are experiencing mental or emotional discomfort due to their discomfort, and frankly we would prefer to, err.. not be. We are “helping” them to help ourselves.
But consider these two situations. In either scenario, you have just experienced the loss of a loved one.
Scenario A. Your friend comes over. You cry on their shoulder in your two-days dirty pajamas, and they barely say a word. They make you a meal, with no pressure to eat it now. They brew your favorite cup of tea, just in case you want some. They sit there while your body oscillates with each gasping, forceful sob. They hand you tissues and rub your back. For an hour.
Scenario B. Your friend comes over. They see you’re in your pajamas and they urge you to shower. With a positive intention, they muster up an overly enthusiastic demeanor, draw the curtains, point to the shining sun, and say you need to wash up and get dressed so the two of you can get up and out. They tell you it helps to stay busy, that it isn’t healthy to stay shuttered up at home alone like this. But you barely had the energy to get out of bed that morning. You start to cry. They wear an exaggerated frown as they say, “I know. I know. It’s awful.” But then their smile grows wider as they declare, “But you must be all cried out, it will help to get out, I promise!” They make you a large breakfast, insist you eat it, lay out clothes for you, and steer you to the bathroom to shower.
In which scenario do you feel better, and in which scenario is your friend heaping on added guilt for your current state of hygiene, making you wonder if there is something wrong with you for still being so sad, and pressuring you to pretend to feel better just to please them?
One of my teachers, Jafar Alexander, says that the deepest, most basic desire of all human beings is to be seen with value, heard with value, and touched with value. In short, we all want to be loved and accepted as we are.
So give this a shot: The next time you’re sad or mad or sick or happy or frustrated, just be sad or mad or sick or happy or frustrated. Do this instead of pitying yourself, or thinking you’re weak, or thinking it’s pointless to sit in “negative” emotion, or telling yourself you’re too busy to feel emotion — or any of the other endless narratives we weave in our mind to avoid our present experience. Just be.
And the next time a friend, family member, client, patient, or anyone else you encounter is upset, just be, and let them be. You don’t need to say anything wise, or solve their “problem”. Just tell them you imagine, or perhaps even know from personal experience, that what they’re feeling must be difficult. And then let them feel it. Trust that you are doing them a favor, by not trying to do them any favors.
If you’d like to give listening to and accepting yourself and your loved ones a try, I invite you to start with a low bar. The need to “fix” emotions is a deeply engrained habit, and the best place to start with engrained habits is often to simply commit to noticing when you are acting out of that habit. So start by practicing noticing when you are not allowing what is, or when someone else is not allowing for you to be with what is. By just noticing, without feeling a need to change your behavior or the behavior of others, you can be a witness to the interaction playing out in your head, or in conversation with others. You have the opportunity to study it in action.
I was a pro at burying my emotions instead of allowing. I could feel the weight of them with me all the time, fighting below the surface to get out, like I was carrying around a rabid raccoon in a backpack. It manifested in my moods, my tolerance for unpleasant situations or less-than-ideal environments, my tolerance of others’ flaws or behaviors, and in my body as physical pain and chronic tension.
Eventually, you will become so good at just noticing, that you can begin to practice shifting the behavior. You can give yourself permission to be fully present in the moment, allowing for the expression of emotions in real time as they manifest. You might notice as you practice this for a few days, and then a few weeks, that you feel lighter — that you notice the absence of your rabid raccoon as you go about your daily life. Personally, I noticed a lot of changes. Two biggies were fewer angry overreactions to small inconveniences (which had been due to harboring unexpressed anger), and an increased tolerance for others around me experiencing”negative” emotions — both of which made me a better friend, more compassionate, and more fun to be around.
Originally published on www.katherine-murphy.com.
The power of allowing
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