Part 1: How to Wait for Your Mud to Settle
We just opened the door into an incredibly challenging decision you are bravely exploring.
Now we’re going to talk about how to keep being brave as you wait for things to become clear.
To recap, Lao Tzu pointed out that when we let muddy water stand, it becomes clear on its own. So can we apply this principle to our lives to find clarity in this decision? Yes. But how?
In my personal experience and when I’ve seen others contemplating divorce, well, it’s usually more accurately described as agonizing over the decision. We can agonize about the idea of going as much as we can agonize over the prospect of staying. It’s totally understandable.
But when we let ourselves get caught up in agony, we’re not letting the muddy water stand. We’re stirring and stirring, agitated, anxious. This approach takes a massive toll on you and, likely, everyone around you, too.
An alternative is to learn to look at your life and emotions with a certain degree of detachment. Just like the idea of opening our hands to examine what we had been clenching, we can learn to separate some from our emotions.
Imagine a small lake after a big storm. The water and mud get all turned up, and the water gets muddy, agitated. Is it safe to say you’ve been feeling agitated lately? When a person is contemplating divorce, there are usually lots of big, intense emotions swirling. Letting the mud settle is largely about learning how to engage with our emotions in helpful ways.
How have you been taught to handle your emotions?
When I was small and super upset about anything, I remember full-body sobbing and my parents telling me gently or firmly, “Blow it away.” And/or, “You’re ok.” I know they really meant well. But I internalized those messages in unhelpful ways.
For me, internally, it turned into feeling like this huge bad feeling was kind of like...attacking or overtaking me, and my only defense was to blow this terrible thing away. And that felt terrifying because my little forced exhales felt like no match for this powerful force I was contending with. And then being told by the people I trusted most that I was ok, subtly taught me to believe I didn’t know how I felt or that my feelings were wrong, bad, or invalid. They must be right, and I must be wrong. It taught me to deny, distrust, ward off, and ultimately stuff my feelings.
After plenty of counseling, therapy, research, self-reflection, and re-parenting now that I’m a mother, what do I say to myself and my kids when someone starts crying? It sounds really similar to what my parents told me, but it’s actually profoundly different. “Breathe.” And, eventually, “Are you ok?”
Do you feel the difference?
In this section, I want to walk you through what I’ve learned about emotions and how we can metabolize them in healthy ways. As we go through all these steps, notice the subtle (or not so subtle) differences from the messages you’ve received and the ways you have internalized those messages about your feelings.
Ask yourself: Is there any re-parenting you need to do for yourself?
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