Is It Bad I'm Happy When You Cry?

When a client cries in session, I have a mini celebration on their behalf (inwardly). Let me explain.

We're scared to feel

So many of us are scared to death to feel! We don't let ourselves because we don't feel safe to, so we avoid. We ignore, push down, fake, pretend, and deny. But then what happens? Brené Brown's research found that when we numb the hard feelings, we numb the good ones too. We can't selectively numb, so we flatline somewhere in the middle, because neither end of the spectrum feels safe. From here, emotions become a challenge to engage with at all.

The thing is, we need to feel. As the saying goes, you have to feel it to heal it. And talking alone doesn't always get us there, because the parts of the brain that sound the alarm don't use words. They speak in sensation. I recommend reading: Can You Control Your Feelings? And if so, How? in conjunction with this post.

What happens in session

This is why, in session, I will often flip the script. Instead of talking more about a particular topic, especially one we've discussed before that doesn't seem to be shifting, I'll ask us to slow down and check in with the body. I'll ask you to notice any sensations in your body as you think about the hard thing we were just exploring. I might ask where in the body the intensity is highest. And then we listen. If the tightness in the throat could talk, what might it tell us? What would happen if the stomach wasn't in knots? Is it doing this to protect you from something? We keep going with open and kind inquiry. The vibe toward the body is: "Hello, my dear friend. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. Thank you for patiently persisting. You're trying so hard to tell me something. I love you. I'm listening now." And usually, gently, tears come.

So, yes: I am happy. I'm celebrating that my client is feeling, that they're unblocking something that hurts, that they feel safe, and that they're finding out they can survive feeling something painful. I know this moment is going to set a new trajectory. Something life-changing is happening in front of me, and I often tear up, too. I feel incredibly touched by the privilege of witnessing such a moment.

And note: if you're not a crier, that's more than okay. Tears aren't the goal. Feeling is, and it looks different for everyone.

Four things I tell clients about feelings

The work is to feel. It's simple in theory, but it can be hard or unnatural in practice. Here are the four things I find myself repeating most on this topic:

1. Feelings move like waves. If you like, imagine a feeling as a wave: one that crests, crashes, runs up the shore, pauses, and recedes. The crash is the most intense part, but it's also the shortest. Neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor puts a time stamp on it. She describes the body's chemical surge as washing through in about 90 seconds, as long as we don't keep re-triggering it with our thoughts. The pattern behind it holds up in research: feelings tend to peak and then ease. More waves may follow, but most will be smaller than the first. Keep breathing. The sea will calm and the waves will melt.

2. You can handle this. Here's a technique from parts work (Internal Family Systems, a form of therapy that treats the different parts of ourselves as distinct). Ask your body, or the part of you that's hurting, to agree to this request: Please do not overwhelm me. I want to understand what you are trying to tell me, and I can't do that if I get too overwhelmed. Wait for a nod of agreement, and lean in with trust.

3. Comfort yourself while crying. Drawing from parts work again: can you access a part of you that is unchanging, anchored, tried and true? Can you have that part attend to the part that is suffering? Can it offer exactly what the suffering part needs to hear? Or, without offering words, can it offer a warm and loving presence? So often, it's the avoidance of crying that prolongs our suffering. Your tears are telling you that something matters. Let them come. Learn from them.

4. Not now, I'll come back. I hesitate to offer this one, because it's what we're doing most of the time, but it's also realistic. We can't exactly break down whenever we want. Life rolls us into the next thing: a work call, school drop-off, hosting in-laws. Task switching can even be protective and productive at times. However, when we don't come back to what's hurting, we tell ourselves, in some way, that it doesn't matter as much as ____ (fill in the blank). We might even begin to shorten the idea to "my feelings don't matter." But we know they do. Try telling yourself this in the midst of the pain: I see you. I'm going to make time to honour this feeling. Then pick a time you can come back, and do that. Go for a walk, journal, talk to someone, cry, or do whatever you feel best acknowledges your pain.

Could use company while you practise?

If something here landed for you and you'd like support while you learn to feel your way through, I'd love to hear from you. I offer a free 15-minute consult (no pressure, tears optional) so we can see whether we're a good fit. I work online with folks anywhere in BC and in person in Squamish. Book your free consult here.

In case you missed if from before, check out: Can You Control Your Feelings? And if so, How?