What Am I Unwilling to Feel?

 

This question has become a cornerstone of my self-reflection. It was first introduced to me when I was 18 years old by Tara Brach, a meditation teacher whose guidance shaped my early adulthood. Even now, her words continue to resonate with the same clarity and truth.

 

For much of my life, I became adept at sidestepping the intensity of my emotions. I didn’t fully recognise and even still occasionally forget, that the more I avoid the waves of heat and sensation that rise in my body, the more powerful and disruptive they grow.

 

Suppressed emotions, like a storm left unacknowledged, gather strength until they demand attention in ways that can no longer be ignored.

 

In moments of stress or sadness, it’s easy for humans to reach for distractions: scrolling endlessly through social media, burying oneself in work, or turning to food for comfort.

 

These coping mechanisms offer temporary relief, keeping us occupied enough to avoid the ache beneath the surface. Yet, they often serve as mere band-aids, delaying the deeper work of healing and integration.

 

Coping has its place. It can help us through the most overwhelming moments. But when it becomes our primary strategy, preventing us from truly listening to our internal experience, our emotional and physical wellbeing inevitably starts to come off kilter.

 

This resistance to feeling often stems from deeper fears: the vulnerability of being seen, the heartbreak of loss, or the uncertainty of the unknown to name a few. What might happen if we allowed ourselves to fully sit with the rawness of our present experience, as it is right now? Would it overwhelm us? Would it expose parts of ourselves we’d rather keep hidden?

 

And yet, when we find the courage to lean into our experience, even briefly, a profound sense of relief often follows. It’s as though a dam begins to crack, allowing stagnant energy to flow again. In that release, there is sense of clarity and a deeper connection to ourselves and to what truly matters. Out comes the rainbow, so to speak.

 

Emotions are not our adversaries; they are messengers. They point to the places within us that need care, understanding, and attention. Even the most difficult feelings…grief from a lost relationship, anger from past betrayals, or the gnawing sense of uncertainty carry gifts. They invite us to slow down, to listen, and to understand.

 

My teacher often shares what his therapist would often tell him about his emotions: “You think you’re standing on the edge of an infinite abyss, but the drop is only two feet.” I’ve found this to be entirely true in my own experience.

 

Emotions can feel all-encompassing, like they might just swallow us whole. But as we step closer, we often realise they are not at all as dangerous than they appear. The act of leaning in reveals an unexpected safety, a quiet understanding that we can actually hold these feelings without being consumed by them.

 

If we can cultivate a sense of curiosity about what our intense feelings are trying to tell us, facing the storm becomes far less daunting.

 

With curiosity comes trust. Trust that these emotions arise for a reason and are not without purpose. But before we can fully embrace this perspective, we must first explore the terrain of our inner world and come to understand the mechanisms of emotion for ourselves.

 

So, what are you unwilling to feel?

 

With each honest answer, you will open the door to possibility: the chance to embrace what arises, knowing that these feelings, however uncomfortable, are guiding you toward greater wholeness. They are not the obstacle, they are in fact your most fruitful pathway.