State of Mind
One of the most powerful determinants of our experience in life is our ability to recognize, understand, and regulate our emotions. But this is no easy task. We often feel that our emotions are happening to us, and that they come and go mysteriously and unpredictably. Sometimes we don’t even notice our emotional state until someone else points it out. Other times we notice a feeling but struggle to identify or derive meaning from it.
An important part of what I do as a coach is to help people learn and practice emotional regulation. Through reflective and non-judgmental conversation, I help people identify what they’re feeling, uncover the root thought or judgment that is underneath that emotion, express the emotion fully and compassionately, and decide how they’d like to respond to the emotion and the circumstances around it.
With this collection, State of Mind, my intent is to bring some of that spacious and intentional reflection to the viewer. Each painting began with an answer to the prompt, “I feel ____.” The imagery reflects a common emotion or state of being in response to a life circumstance. Some of these works are inspired by personal experience. Others are inspired by what I hear from clients, family, and friends, and what I observe in the world.
As you approach this body of work, I hope you’ll give yourself some room to explore the emotions that are coming up in you.
Freefall (Unmoored)
I talk to a lot of people that are experiencing some sort of upheaval. One woman described it as the feeling of being in freefall. Everything that anchored her life was shifting, and she felt she had nothing to grab onto. Jolted out of her routines and comfort, she felt disoriented and fearful. Who was she without her job, her relationships, her health?
When everything is changing around us, we must confront the question–how do we cultivate a sense of security and groundedness within ourselves, and stop relying on our circumstances to make us feel safe or settled?
For many, transitions become a time to explore faith and spirituality–to cultivate trust in something bigger than oneself. And as scary as it is to let go of what we’ve known, times of transition are ripe with the opportunity to re-evaluate our priorities, values, desires, and beliefs. When we stay grounded and fully in the present, we get to decide how to build our lives back up.
What is the essence of your identity or life? What remains when your circumstances and relationships change?
If I Stay Small, I Might Be Safe (Vulnerable)
The world can feel like a chaotic and threatening place, and as we grow up we devise strategies to stay safe. We puff up, we shrink down, we run away.
My default when I feel scared or vulnerable is to make my world as small and simple as possible. I like to fly under the radar to avoid pain, and for a long time, that worked for me.
But over the past couple years, I started to feel the pain of “under-being.” I was shrinking from challenges, forgoing opportunities, and playing it safe even when it meant sacrificing who I really was and what I really wanted.
It’s said that we only change when the status quo becomes more uncomfortable than growth. We reach a tipping point that propels us into transformation.
My transformation is learning to tolerate messiness and awkward growth. It’s learning to step into the unknown of a new opportunity, knowing that even if I fail, I won’t die (and I’ll probably learn something). It’s being courageous enough to be seen as I am.
What growth are you being invited to? What safety strategies and control patterns would you need to let go of to experience more joy, fulfillment, or authenticity?
Can I Get a Witness? (Seen)
One of the most potent desires we have as human beings is the craving to be seen. In joy, and especially in pain or sadness, we long to know that we are visible to others–that we matter.
When I was in college, I took a trip to Chicago, and as I was riding the train to meet up with my sister, there was a homeless man walking along the aisle. As passenger after passenger averted their eyes, he passionately exclaimed, “I’m a human being! You can look at me.”
Being a witness to the pain of another can often be a hard thing to do. To truly be present to their experience, to look it in the face, we must grapple with our own fears of suffering, vulnerability, indignity, frailty, and death. We must reckon with our selfishness and our privilege.
We don’t want to see ourselves in those that are struggling. We look away because it’s easier than managing our fear and guilt. But when we allow our fear to exist without trying to push it away, it eventually gives way to compassion, and we can offer those around us what they most desperately desire–acknowledgment, connection, and visibility.
What is the hardest thing about sitting with difficult emotions for you? What would need to happen for you to be a better witness to those who are hurting?
You Care For Me (Loved)
What makes you feel loved?
For me, physical touch has always been important. A long hug, an arm around the shoulder. These little gestures contribute immensely to my sense of well-being.
But there are many ways of giving and receiving love. Gary Chapman calls these “love languages.” Sometimes we don’t feel loved because the people in our lives are speaking a different love language. Our preferred way of receiving love may not be their native way of showing it. Sometimes we need to show others how to love us.
We also need to be willing to give love in ways that don’t feel as natural. Much like learning a new language, this takes intentionality and effort, but the reward is deeper intimacy and connection.
How can you show the people in your life how to better love you? How can you love them better?
Floating Through (Relaxed)
A couple years ago, I went on a floating trip down the creek at Turkey Run State Park. It was one of the most peaceful activities I’ve ever done. Reclining in the tube, head back, feeling the sun on my skin as I drifted along, carried by the current. Occasionally I’d drift too close to the rocks or towards a fallen tree, and with a small kick or two I’d correct my course.
Thinking about the ease of that day stands in stark contrast to how we spend most of our time. Instead of acceptance, alignment, and flow, we engage in resistance and control.
What would life be like if we stopped fighting the current and let it carry us along? If we embraced things as they are instead of trying to make them something else? What if we simply nudged ourselves back on the right path when we start to go astray, instead of getting trapped or overcorrecting?
We are allowed to experience ease. It doesn’t mean we’re not working hard enough or aren’t worthy of our success. It means that we conserve our energy and use it effectively with the momentum of reality, rather than wearing ourselves out by striving and resisting.
Don’t Push My Buttons (Triggered)
One of the biggest challenges I work with my clients on is emotional reactivity–being triggered by interactions with others and falling into reactions and communication patterns that don’t reflect their best self.
This tendency shows up in our language. “They made me feel [sad, angry, insecure, etc.]” “If he didn’t do that, I wouldn’t have reacted that way.”
We blame others for pushing our buttons and forget an important truth–you can’t push a button that isn’t there.
Focusing on trying to get others to stop pushing our buttons is a way that we distract ourselves from the only thing we can control–ourselves. When we take responsibility and work on understanding or eliminating our buttons instead of trying to control others’ behavior, we unlock our power to manage our emotional experience and contribute positively to our interactions instead of pouring fuel on the fire.
What are your biggest pet peeves? Your biggest insecurities? Next time you feel triggered, take a moment before reacting and ask yourself:
“What about this situation bothers me, specifically? What does this tell me about my values? Now that I know what’s important to me, what would I like to do next?”
Another powerful line of questioning is, “What am I taking this to mean about me? Is there any part of it that’s true, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it? If it is true, is there anything I want to change or do differently?”
You’ll Never Hurt Me Again (Guarded)
I once heard someone say, “When you get hurt, remember to build fences, not fortresses.”
We can’t escape life without being wounded. When we experience this pain, our natural reaction is to protect ourselves, and we often go to the extreme of shutting down or shutting people out. We think that if we make ourselves invulnerable, we won’t have to experience the pain again.
But we don’t escape pain by being guarded or wearing emotional armor. We simply experience a different kind of pain–the pain that comes from isolation, suppressing our emotions, and compromising our connections by keeping others at a distance. We can’t shut out of the possibility of pain without shutting out joy. We can’t avoid disappointment or betrayal without compromising intimacy.
Being vulnerable doesn’t mean that we let any and everyone into our lives, or completely expose ourselves in every situation. But it does mean that with thoughtful boundaries and discernment, we let others get close enough to truly see us. We may get hurt once in a while, but we will also allow ourselves to experience transformational love.
How are you guarding yourself from relational pain? What is your current strategy costing you?
What might it look like to let people in a little more? What conditions would need to be met for you to trust someone with intimacy?
Anxiety’s Refrain (Apprehensive)
A common challenge I see with clients and friends is a pervasive, vague, low-grade anxiety in daily life. They’re not sure exactly what they’re worried about, but they find it difficult to operate in abundance, trust, and resourcefulness. This feeling is draining and distracting, and though we think it helps prepare us for the future and control our environment, it’s not actually that helpful.
But the goal isn’t necessarily to become anxiety-free, but as Brené Brown puts it, anxiety-aware. Anxiety is only useful when it’s specific enough to prompt us into action in the present.
To help understand your anxiety, try asking questions like this:
What specifically am I afraid will happen?
How serious or damaging would it be if it did happen?
How likely is it to happen?
If it’s likely to happen and would present a significant challenge if it did, how would I like to prepare now to reduce the impact if it occurs?
Most of the time, our fears are unlikely to come true, or not as catastrophic as we build them up to be in our minds. On the occasions they are real and serious, we won’t help the situation with rumination or worry–only action and preparation. Once we’ve done what we can, we can rest and release what’s beyond our control.
I Don’t Even Know What I Think (Jumbled)
I don’t know about you, but when I try to process big emotions, decisions, or perspectives in my head, it can easily feel like my thoughts are a jumbled mess. One of my favorite things about going through my coach certification program was having weekly sessions with a peer coach, who could help me unpack and clarify my thoughts until they felt more manageable and understandable. Once I had clarity, it felt so much easier to take productive action.
As a coach, I aim to offer this to my clients. I become a thinking partner–someone who can prompt reflection (“What do you mean when you say ___?”), paraphrase and organize their stream of consciousness (“It sounds like what’s bothering you is ___ and ___. How true is that for you?”), draw out insight (“What are you learning about yourself in this situation?”) and help them integrate their knowledge (“Now that you know how you feel, what would you like to do next?”)
If you’re feeling jumbled, talking it out with an objective third party can help, as well as other reflective exercises, like journaling. Getting the thoughts out of your head and into conversation or on paper can be instrumental in achieving clarity.
The Critic Wants Me Quiet (Stifled)
When I was training to become a certified life coach, we talked a lot about our “gremlin,” or the Inner Critic that lives in all of us. It’s the voice that tells us we’re not enough, that we’ll never measure up, that we’re inadequate and unworthy.
This voice stifles the expression of our true selves. It asks, “Who do you think you are?” It tells us, “It’s not safe–don’t try.” It wants to keep us quiet and small.
I’ve spent a lot of time fighting this voice, seeing it as my enemy–something to be resisted or overcome. But in my coaching program, we shifted our perspective on the Inner Critic.
We learned that the Critic was created in childhood, the first time we got the message from the world that it wasn’t ok to be ourselves and felt the sting of shame, pain, and humiliation.
Our Critic wants us to be quiet because it wants us to be safe. It believes that being authentic, speaking honestly with others, or taking on new challenges is too risky. It tries to protect us from shame and doesn’t care if we sacrifice joy, meaning, or fulfillment in the process.
When I see my Inner Critic as a protector instead of an enemy or saboteur, I can deal with it more effectively and compassionately. I can say, “Thank you for trying to protect me. I needed your protection as a child. But I’m not a child anymore. I can handle being hurt. I embrace the risk of being myself because suppressing who I am is more painful than being criticized or rejected by others. Your help isn’t needed.”
How might things change for you if you saw your Inner Critic as a protector? What messages would you stop believing about yourself if you knew your Critic was saying anything it could think of to stop you from taking risks? How would you like to respond differently when you hear this voice in the future?
The Noise Is Too Much (Overwhelmed)
This was a whole pandemic/2020 mood for me, and for many of my friends. The world felt so loud–it was filled with so many opinions that I couldn’t even figure out what I felt or thought.
I realized that I couldn’t change what was going on around me (we can’t control others), but I could turn down the volume of the noise by creating mental boundaries.
I changed how I got my news, I reminded myself that not all opinions should be weighed equally, I decided when and how I would discuss certain topics, and noticed who I could have productive conversations with. Making these changes was incredibly empowering and helped me show up with more energy and compassion.
How do you react when you’re overwhelmed? What boundaries would be helpful to create to protect your mental well-being?
In Hiding (Ashamed)
As humans, we long for joy, connection, and belonging. The greatest obstacle in our way is shame. Shame makes us believe that we are inherently and irreparably flawed, and therefore unworthy of love and connection.
We deal with shame in a few ways. Some of us hide, withdraw, and silence ourselves. Some deal with shame by seeking to appease and please others. And others become aggressive and try to gain power by shaming the people around them. These strategies may be our natural response, but they don’t help us effectively navigate shame.
What we need most is to share our stories and experiences with someone we trust. Someone who can offer a compassionate and non-judgmental presence, and remind us that we are not alone, abnormal, or unworthy. Just as shame happens in community, it can be healed in community.
What triggers shame for you? What are you afraid of people discovering about you? Think of someone who has earned the right to hear your story; someone who can offer you the connection and empathy you need. What might it be like to share your shame experience with them? What might hold you back?
Hold Me Tight (Comforted)
One of the things I missed the most during the early months of the pandemic was hugs. To me, there’s something so comforting about being held when I’m upset. It helps me feel safe and somehow makes every challenge less daunting and every big emotion less distressing.
But in the absence of physical contact, I discovered that there are many ways to be soothed when stressed. For some, it’s taking a few deep breaths. For others, it’s meditation and journaling. Some of my clients like to repeat a mantra that helps them get centered again.
What brings you comfort in times of stress? What soothing strategies would you like to tap into more often?
It Only Takes One Prick (Fragile)
I used to be a lot more sensitive. Criticism was a terrifying prospect for me. I was praised often as a child by parents, teachers, and coaches, and I got used to seeking external validation. My ego told me that my value resided in what others thought of me, and I was only worthy when I was praised.
When the inevitable criticism came, it deflated me instantly. The smallest comment and I would cry and become discouraged, or become stubborn and defensive.
Placing my worth in the hands of others kept me in a pattern of pleasing, perfecting and performing. It was exhausting to feel that my sense of self was always on the line. I was fragile.
Over the past year, I’ve made huge progress in trusting my inherent worth. I’ve been able to recognize that my failures and faults don’t disqualify me from love and worthiness. While I still have the occasional defensive reaction, I’ve been able to receive feedback more gracefully, take important lessons from what is shared, and set aside the judgments that don’t ring true, and come more from the insecurities and projections of the other person than from me.
Do you find it difficult to deal with the feedback and judgment of others? Are you relying on perfection or performance for your sense of self, or are you secure in your self-worth despite imperfections or mistakes? What would change in your life if you deeply believed in your inherent value?
Now Is All We Have (Present)
One thing that coaching has helped me notice is how much of our lives we spend living in the past or the future, as opposed to now. We are trapped in guilt or regret (the past), or consumed with anxiety and worry (the future). While it’s understandable that this happens, it robs us of our ability to take action. The only thing we can respond to is what’s currently happening. If we stay in tune enough with the present, we will always be taking the appropriate action and truly moving ourselves forward. We will spend our energy on addressing what’s real, instead of what’s gone or not yet a reality.
But to effectively operate in the present, we must ground ourselves there through noticing. An easy way to do this is to tap into the senses:
What are you seeing around you?
What do you hear or smell?
What are you feeling in your body? Where do you feel it?
Notice where you are holding tension. What does that tell you?
Remember to observe without judgment. Most things are neither good or bad–they just are. When we acknowledge things for what they are, rather than resisting or trying to control them, we can use all of our available energy to respond appropriately (and save ourselves from stress).
Where Did All the Meaning Go? (Empty)
I recently read an article in the New York Times by Adam Grant that explored an emotion that many have felt during the pandemic: languishing.
Languishing shows up as a feeling of stagnation and emptiness. As if you’re muddling through your days, joyless and aimless, struggling to find meaning and motivation. Grant describes it as the void between depression and thriving; the absence of well-being.
The danger of languishing is that you might not even notice it. You might miss the “dulling of your delight or the dwindling of your drive.” You “slip slowly into solitude, indifferent to your own indifference.” Grant reminds us that “when you can’t see your own suffering, you don’t seek help or do much to help yourself.”
To combat the feeling of languishing, he recommends several strategies: creating pockets of uninterrupted time (to promote a sense of progress and build momentum and motivation) and focusing on and celebrating small wins (tiny triumphs help counteract the big losses we’ve experienced).
A follow-up article about flourishing adds these tips: taking time to savor, practicing gratitude, being of service to others, prioritizing high quality connection, and trying new things.
Are you languishing? What are some small ways you’d like to inject more meaning back into your life?
My Grass is the Greenest (Grateful)
In the age of social media, we struggle more than ever with envy and comparison. When we see others around us doing well or having more, it’s easy to assume that the grass is greener elsewhere. We think endlessly about whether we should make a change. We spend huge amounts of time analyzing why others are able to achieve what we haven’t been able to.
The best way to combat this feeling is through gratitude and intentional action. When we focus on what we have instead of what we lack, we’ll see that there are seeds of potential everywhere in our life. When we water those seeds through thoughtful action, we are often surprised by how fertile the ground beneath us really is. When we’re not distracted by trying to make our situation something it’s not (or trying to be someone else), we can focus all of our creative energy on making the best of where we are and the gifts we already possess.
Gratitude doesn’t mean that we’ll never want to make a change. But it does help us make choices from a place of abundance and peace, rather than striving and lack.
Devil on Both Shoulders (Deceived)
I was working out in the gym one day, listening to music by NF, when I heard a lyric that stuck in my mind:
We walk around with the Devil talkin’ on both shoulders
I had never heard anything that so perfectly captured the feeling you get on a bad day. A day when you look around and it’s hard to find the good in anything.
In the Bible, Philippians 4:8 tells us, “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.” This idea is often depicted as the voice of an angel on our shoulder–pointing out the good, encouraging our better nature. In Christianity, the Devil is referred to as “the Father of Lies”–there is no truth in him. He schemes to distort our perspective, steal our peace, destroy our relationships, and kill our joy.
When we operate with the Devil on both shoulders, we cannot see anything clearly–not ourselves, others, or our circumstances. We become self-doubting or self-aggrandizing, irritable, reactive, and cynical. We fall into judgment, accusing, and blame. We lose sight of hope, trust, and grace.
What lies are you believing about yourself? Those around you? Your circumstances? 2 Corinthians instructs us to “take every thought captive.” As you go through your day, begin to notice the thoughts and judgments crossing your mind. As you observe, ask yourself:
Is this true?
Is this helpful?
What’s a more empowering or compassionate way to look at this situation?
Remember: we have thoughts, but we are not our thoughts. We don’t have to live at the Devil’s mercy.