This week has been particularly intense. Clients have shown up to sessions experiencing breakups, flooding, grief, and pain, and I have sat there with an empathetic ear, bearing witness to each clients’ process of confronting, and embodying, all their emotions. I don’t think therapists talk enough about the toll that it takes to sit with so much vicarious pain and suffering.
Yesterday, I finished my last session of the week feeling accomplished and proud to have witnessed so many people in their most vulnerable states with kindness and compassion. I began to work on a last-minute “Secret Santa” gift for an event I had forgotten about, and then I got triggered. This trigger was so small, and it made no sense, but I experienced a wave of intense hurt and pain that knocked me off my feet and set me reeling as tears welled up in my eyes. I got so angry at someone who had done nothing wrong, and even though I knew that my feelings were unjustified and not really about this person, I still felt them so intensely that I became lost within them. I felt left behind, rejected, deeply alone, and I did not understand what was happening to me. Hadn’t I had great sessions all week? Didn’t I hold such beautiful space for all my clients?
As I practically ran towards my car, my dominating thought was to get to the beach. Pay no mind that this was December 15 at 6:30 pm, and the low was 35 degrees Fahrenheit that night, I needed to dip my toes into the ocean and sit in the sand. I did not yet know why I was so upset, but I am proud of myself for one thing: rather than showing up at a holiday party completely overwhelmed and flooded, I listened to my body’s gut reaction to cultivate some solo cathartic release.
When I got to the beach, my face was puffy from crying and my arms were shaking with anger. I sat in a dark corner at the base of a cliff and watched some fire dancers performing, and then something deep inside told me to get up and dance. I put on music that spoke to my soul, and I let out my wild and raw emotional energy without a care for who might be watching. I kicked sand into the air, moving my body to the rhythm of the music in whatever way felt right in the moment. I danced until my feet went completely numb from the cold, and then I waded into the ocean up to my thighs and watched the waves ebb and flow.
As I stood in the water, I felt exhausted. I was so drained, but I decided to go to the holiday party with the intention of staying for just a little while. Rather than try and pretend everything was fine and jolly, I shared openly with others about my current emotional state and the vicarious trauma I was carrying with me. I ended up having two beautiful conversations centering around the challenges of being a therapist, the cathartic qualities of processing emotion through song and dance, and the centrality of nature in cultivating healing. While I still felt emotionally depleted, I also felt a slight stirring of gratitude for this beautiful community.
Later that evening, from the comfort of home, I carved out some time to journal and reflect upon the multitude of factors that led to my emotional breakdown. I realized that so much was happening in tandem with the secondary trauma I was carrying as a therapist: I missed a dear friend whom I have grown estranged from, I felt scared that I could not handle being a therapist, I was holding space for a friend going through a breakup, I felt the absence of my partner who had been sick all week, and on top of all this, I was about to get my period. No wonder I was a mess!
Recognizing all the external factors impacting my internal state made me feel less like an emotional wreck and more like a very exhausted human in need of some serious self-care. Did I still feel not-so-great? Absolutely. But examining and externalizing all my stressors from the week helped put my current emotional state into perspective. I was able to have compassion for myself. I felt grateful for listening to my intuition that knew dancing wildly on the beach was far more healing than blowing up at people who did nothing wrong.
I am writing about this experience now to share that it is okay to feel intense emotions. It is okay to explode and spiral and feel scared of your own feelings. It is okay to feel lost and confused by your reactions. I am learning how to listen to my body and honor my inner knowing by letting my intuition guide me toward healing practices. I am learning how to confront my emotions with compassion rather than judgment. I hope that, in sharing my vulnerable truth, you feel more compassion towards yourself knowing that there is solidarity in our shared experience as human beings on this beautiful earth.
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