I feel like I recommend mindfulness and meditation to virtually all of my clients. Mindfulness being paying attention, especially to one’s innards, all the time (or at the drop of a hat). Meditation being sitting (or standing, or walking) at a specified time to allow for deliberate focus on one’s innards.
These are such important practices. Mindfulness and meditation are grounding, stilling, centering, and self-regulating. They illuminate the fleeting nature of thoughts and feelings that otherwise distress. They help us to know our own gardens and, super importantly, strengthen our ability to stay in our gardens. Which leads to the crucial experiences of self-trust and safety. Which leads to the crucial ability to trust others and feel safe in relationship.
So mindfulness and meditation are great.
But they’re not enough.
It’s not enough to detach and watch our feelings disappear. And, while mindfulness, or noticing our feelings, is a crucial discipline, it is only the first step to personal and relational transformation. Because, like pain, our emotions are signals. Just as pain suggests we should attend to our physical structures, emotions indicate our psychic structures need attention. And, like hurting bodies, if we don’t address our emotional warning signs, our psychic structures can continue to serve up those feelings — until we deal with them.
For example
I used to fume every time I saw my husband’s dirty dishes sitting next to our kitchen sink. I saw them and immediately assumed my husband expected me to clean up after him. Instantaneous anger and resentment. Because I had become aware of (1) my tendency to put others’ needs before my own, caring for them and not myself, and (2) I was self-righteous in my newly found resolution to reverse this pattern (and, importantly, reduce the resentment I felt pretty much chronically).
I could have continued to look at my husband’s dishes (which were a regular feature of our kitchen) and allowed my resentment to build and build and build. Until I exploded in self-righteous outrage.
Or I could have dealt with my emotions. Why were they arising? What were they telling me? In a (fairly large) nutshell:
My emotions were telling me that dishes next to our kitchen sink triggered a response, an interpretation, that stemmed from a negative self-belief — “It’s my job to take care of everybody (or I won’t be loved)” — accompanied automatically by resentment. That dark angry emotion that (I claim) signals an imbalance of some kind (like pain, right? Resentment means there’s emotional and relational imbalance in my life). In this case, an imbalance in responsibility. I was enraged by my assumption (based on my negative self-belief) that my husband was leaving me responsible for cleaning up his messes.
Note the words “my negative self-belief” and “assumption.”
Noticing these feelings was great work. Honestly: Stewing in resentment is not healthy. Noticing it is absolutely essential. But actually getting healthier required that I do something about my resentment. I could, of course, have sat in meditation. And I am sure my resentment would have dissipated. It would have wafted away like vapors from a boiling kettle. I’d have returned to my kitchen feeling all calm and content — only to face those fuckin’ dishes again.
Rinse and repeat.
Beyond mindfulness and meditation
What can happen beyond mindfulness and meditation? If sitting mindfully brings you into awareness of your emotions, and you can label them, then you can wonder what they’re telling you about yourself and your relational situation. And, once you’ve made a good guess about those things, you can craft a plan of action.
My plan of action? To get a reality check on my belief and my assumption. That is, to check with my husband to see if what I assumed about him and myself was accurate. I asked my husband, “When I see your dishes next to the kitchen sink, I assume you expect me to wash them for you. Is that correct?”
Note the formulation of my reality check. I described the trigger, shared how I interpreted it (essential!! this is me owning the shit in my garden), and asked my question (about my husband’s garden, his reality).
My husband’s reaction? Not defensiveness (because I didn’t accuse him of anything; I accused myself of making an assumption). Not argument (because I was simply sharing my reality, which is non-negotiable). Not withdrawal of love (which was the foundational fear my emotions were pointing at).
My husband simply said, “No.” And immediately washed the dishes that were such a bug up my butt.
And, I kid you not, he now washes up all the dishes within a half-mile radius of the kitchen sink every morning. Without fail. Which leaves me to struggle with my feelings of guilt for being cared for — but that’s another topic for another time.
My point here is to encourage mindfulness and meditation — and the steps beyond that lead to personal and relational change.
I would love to hear about the changes you’ve made in yourself based on your mindfulness and meditation. Leave a comment! Share your wisdom with others! We all benefit from stories of emotional and relational success. Keep doing the good work!