—Frida Kahlo
Ah, these feelings, right? You try to drown them, they grab a life jacket. You fling them into the air, they parachute back down. You try to burn them, and somehow they jump straight into the “save in case of fire” box. You try to bury them underground and they’ve already dug a tunnel, tirelessly, relentlessly. After all that resilience and insistence, they still find their way back to you. You say, Didn’t I bury this a few years ago? But nope! there it is again, popping up like a ghost: “I’m baaaack!” You insist, But I threw this into the deepest sea last month. Yet somehow it’s washed ashore, drenched and tangled, sitting on your doorstep. Then you hear a familiar voice in your head. Wait! didn’t I throw you off the steepest cliff? When did you sprout wings and learn to fly?
When did these feelings become Olympic champions; flying, escaping, swimming, circling back, and then showing up at my door screaming victory cries? And the look they give you, as if they expect praise, dripping with the arrogance of a triumphant winner. That “I knew you couldn’t live without me” attitude.
So what does it all mean? The things you try hardest to get rid of return with the same intensity and force as your attempt to escape them. No matter what tricks you try, they come back. And the more desperately you try to get rid of them, the more fiercely and stubbornly they return.
Sometimes they even come back in “recycled form.” Those feelings you couldn’t quite bring yourself to throw away completely; you tell yourself, Okay, fine, I won’t ignore this one entirely. Let me at least put it in the recycling bin. And some climb out of the trash by themselves and sneak into the recycling bin while you’re not looking. And after a while, there they are again… I know this from somewhere. The cardboard, plastic, or bottle may be different, but the raw material is the same. And honestly, part of you can’t help but admire how flexible, agile, and downright survivor-like they are. They challenge you with that “Go ahead, try to fight me! you’ll lose.”
So what does it mean? You can’t get rid of these things by throwing them out, pushing them away, or drowning them. So how do we get rid of them? Will they never leave us alone? Are we stuck with them? By hosting them. By accepting them into your presence.
And no! that doesn’t mean letting them walk all over you. It doesn’t mean surrendering and letting them climb on your head. Oh well, I guess I’ll just accept this and let it run my life. No. You make them shameless by trying to throw them out. And the more force you use, the more shameless they become. They grow stronger, stand taller, and confront you with more power than before. Nothing in nature is created for no reason. Everything exists for balance, purpose, harmony. Feelings too.
Accepting them into your presence is a kind of vaccination. You give yourself small doses; just enough to tolerate, just enough to endure. When you vaccinate yourself, you become protected. Most of the time, people aren’t worn out by the feelings themselves, but by the “Ugh, is this still here? What a shameless thing!” mindset. That inability to accept them is heavier than the feeling itself. Why are these here? I kick them out the door and they crawl in through the chimney!
Which leads to: Well, I guess I didn’t kick them out hard enough. I failed. What tactic can I use to wipe them out completely? So you search for a new tactic. Try again. And fail. See? I couldn’t do it.
Because you’re trying to do something impossible. You’re using your strength against yourself. You’re trying too hard, flailing too much. Use your strength in your favor—vaccinate yourself. Stop forcing yourself so much; force yourself to not force yourself.
Americans have a saying: “Less is more.”
Doing “too little” can actually complicate things far less than overworking yourself. Stopping one’s own hyper-efficiency is harder than it sounds.
What you try to expel becomes a haunting. What you host learns its place. Maybe not immediately, but in time, it learns the rules, the manners, the rhythm of your home. Listen to it. Let it rest. Make some coffee. Ask why it came. Don’t panic. Be curious. Don’t jump into that automatic reaction of This needs to be gone immediately—OUT!!
Let it leave on its own if it’s meant to. Welcome it, but don’t overpamper it. You don’t need to say, Oh welcome, the whole house is yours, enjoy, rule over everything.
Maybe it forgot something and just needs to grab it and go. Maybe it needs a moment to breathe. Maybe it missed you—why couldn’t it? Maybe it just needs to say something. Maybe you left something with it, and it’s here to return it. Don’t grab it with “Aha, caught you!” energy. Don’t exhaust yourself. Don’t turn it into a lifelong haunting.
Try it this way…
Aysen Darcan, Psychologist PhD
2020, New York
aysendarcan.com
dr.aysence @instagram
aysendarcan@hotmail.com
