We talk a lot about “processing our emotions.”

But what does that actually mean?

Sometimes we are talking about our feelings, analyzing them, journaling about them, trying to understand where they came from or attempting to calm ourselves down—and yet the same emotional reaction keeps returning.

There may be an important distinction we’re missing:

Thinking about an emotion isn’t necessarily the same thing as feeling it.

Sometimes what looks like emotional processing is actually emotional management.

We’re trying to make the feeling better, understand it, control it or get away from it.

And in doing so, we may never fully meet what we’re feeling.

When the Story Keeps the Emotion Going

Imagine you’re hurt by something someone you love has done.

You may cry. You may be angry. You are certainly experiencing emotion.

But notice what your mind may be doing at the same time:

He is so unreliable.

I’m always the one who gets hurt.

No one ever really shows up for me.

I’m going to end up alone.

Now we’re not only experiencing the original hurt.

We’re experiencing the hurt while simultaneously creating meaning around it, replaying the past and imagining the future.

Each new thought can generate another emotional response.

The story and the feeling begin feeding each other.

This doesn’t mean your thoughts are necessarily wrong.

Perhaps someone really was unreliable. Perhaps you need to have a difficult conversation or set a boundary.

But there may be value in pausing before doing any of that.

Because underneath everything you’re thinking about what happened, there is an emotional experience happening right now.

And that experience can often be found in the body.

The story can keep recreating the feeling. The body gives us a place to finally meet it.

What Does It Mean to Feel an Emotion in Your Body?

For a moment, rather than asking:

Why do I feel this way?

Try asking:

Where do I feel this?

Maybe there’s pressure in your chest.

A knot in your stomach.

Heat in your face.

Tightness in your throat.

A hollow feeling inside.

Tingling, trembling or contraction.

Then see what happens if you don’t immediately try to change it.

You don’t have to explain it.

You don’t have to decide what it means.

You don’t have to breathe it away.

You don’t even have to make it leave.

Instead, experiment with something much simpler:

Can I allow this sensation to be here?

That may sound easy.

Sometimes it isn’t.

Why We Try to Avoid Uncomfortable Feelings

Human beings naturally move away from discomfort.

So when fear, grief, anger, shame or loneliness appears, we often immediately begin doing something with it.

We distract ourselves.

We analyze.

We vent.

We problem-solve.

We reassure ourselves.

We reach for a mantra.

We try to calm our nervous system.

None of these things are inherently wrong. Some can be very helpful.

The more useful question may be:

Am I doing this to support myself while I experience what I’m feeling—or am I doing it so I don’t have to feel it?

There is a difference.

Regulation Can Help Us Feel—Not Just Calm Down

Nervous system regulation matters.

Sometimes an emotional experience is simply too intense for us to stay present with it.

Grounding, movement, slower breathing, orienting to our surroundings or connecting with another safe person can help create enough space to remain present.

But regulation doesn’t necessarily have to mean:

Make this feeling stop.

It can mean:

Help me become present enough to meet what’s here.

That’s a very different relationship with ourselves.

Rather than using regulation only to escape discomfort, we can use it to increase our capacity to remain with ourselves when discomfort arises.

Emotions Can Have Layers

Something else may happen when we stop feeding the story and begin opening to the emotional experience itself.

The feeling may change.

Anger might be what appears first.

When we stay with the anger without immediately acting on it or building a story around it, we may begin to notice hurt underneath.

When we allow the hurt, perhaps fear appears.

And beneath the fear, there may be grief or loneliness.

Emotions can sometimes feel a little like the layers of an onion.

But we don’t need to dig.

We don’t need to hunt for childhood memories or decide what emotion is “really” underneath another one.

We simply meet the layer that’s here.

If something else arises, we meet that too.

Acceptance Isn’t Another Technique for Getting Rid of Feelings

This may be the hardest part.

We can turn almost anything into another strategy for control.

Even acceptance.

Fine. I’ll accept this feeling so it will finally go away.

But that’s still resistance wearing different clothes.

Opening to an emotion means experimenting with the possibility that, for this moment, it doesn’t have to leave.

You’re here.

I’m willing to feel you.

You don’t have to change right now.

Sometimes an emotion moves or softens when we stop resisting it.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

The goal isn’t to produce a particular result.

The practice is learning that we don’t have to leave ourselves when uncomfortable feelings appear.

A Simple Practice for Sitting With an Emotion

The next time you notice yourself becoming emotionally activated, try pausing before immediately following the story.

If you’re overwhelmed, begin by regulating and grounding yourself.

Then notice:

What am I feeling in my body right now?

Find the place where the emotion feels most noticeable.

Notice the sensation itself.

Then gently experiment with allowing it.

Can this be here?

If your mind starts explaining, blaming, predicting or replaying, you don’t need to fight those thoughts.

Notice them.

And return to the body.

Feel.

Open.

Stay.

And when there is more space, then you can listen.

Perhaps there’s a boundary that needs to be set.

Perhaps something needs to be said.

Perhaps an old belief has been activated.

Or perhaps nothing needs to be figured out right now.

Sometimes the wisest thing we can do is simply stop running from our own experience.

A Different Kind of Emotional Freedom

Emotional freedom doesn’t necessarily mean reaching a point where fear, anger, grief or hurt no longer arise.

We’re human.

We will experience all of them.

Perhaps freedom is discovering that we don’t have to immediately resist them, fix them or build an entire story around them.

We can learn to stay.

We can learn to feel.

We can learn to meet ourselves fully.

And as the noise of resistance and storytelling begins to quiet, we may discover something underneath it all:

A quieter awareness.

A little more space.

And perhaps the wisdom that was there all along.

The story can keep recreating the feeling.
The body gives us a place to finally meet it.