Tough Love
Self-Regulating 101 on a grey September day.
Sometimes back in September 2023 I was working on rewiring myself.
After a lifetime spent self-regulating using old good tricks (comfort in food, validation in sex, happiness in booze, and control in busyness – just to name a few), I got tired of those and eager to find an alternative method.
Bear in mind, I did not let the tricks go without putting up a good fight. But at some point, after going through the same process over and over and realizing it didn't give me what I was looking for—or at least, the satisfaction didn't last long (because one piece of chocolate is never just one piece of chocolate)—I knew I needed to find a long lasting solution.
I felt like a baby, crying and screaming at the top of my lungs, waiting for someone (usually Mrs. Cookie or Mr. Wine) to pick me up and soothe me. Unfortunately, it seems my parents had changed their philosophy and decided it was time I learned to self-regulate.
Tough love, baby.
That day, the sky was grey and the wind was blowing strong. The weather matched my mood.
It was a particularly "bad" day, one of those when you just wake up with the wrong foot and you can't really explain why. I felt gloomy, lonely, sad. Frustrated. Restless.
I felt all these emotions. And the worst part was: I didn’t know why.
I was coming out of a rollercoaster: the previous days I would wake up high as a kite, yet by the afternoons I would crash down. I didn't understand the triggers for the change of mood. But I knew that if I could hold on till the night, I would find relief in sleep, hopeful the following day would bring a fresh new start. This was enough to keep my hopes up and don’t resort to the old good tricks.
So imagine when that day I woke up, already feeling at the lowest. No apparent reason. And it was Saturday, also known as Cheat Day. A day in which I don’t need to justify myself to chug wine, eat junk food, or go out to a bar looking for attention.
But I didn't want to. I knew those tricks were just like paracetamol, hiding the real reason for the pain.
I spent the morning restless, battling with the desire of giving in to my old good tricks.
The temptation to sit on the couch and binge on TV, perhaps call up some friends for some day drinking was strong. I knew it would take my mind off the suffering.
Yet taking my mind off was not going to solve the problem. The mind wasn't the problem; it was the emotion underneath.
Because when someone is trying to talk to you, and you ignore them, they might go quiet in that moment. But it won't be long before they come back begging for attention, screaming this time.
Then I remembered therapy #1 rule: sit with your emotion.
"But how do you sit with it?" I asked myself, cross-legged on the couch through my mid-morning desperation.
Sit with your emotion.
The rule doesn't say "sit with it and the TV on." Nor does it say "..on a walk listening to music." No, it just says "sit with it." Sometimes it might add "bitch", if you try to talk back.
As much as I like to think of myself as a rebel, I'm really not. I follow rules.
So that's what I did.
My flatmate at the time (bless her for having left me space to go through my journey without ever expressing one word of judgment) went out for the day.
So I sat on the couch and sat with my emotion. Alone. I stared outside. At the sky. At the birds flying through the trees. At the people passing by. I listened to the wind blowing, the cars honking.
My phone vibrated; a new text. I decided to ignore it. The rule doesn't say "sit with your emotion and check your messages in case an interesting distraction is being thrown your way."
I continued to look outside. A grey dry day. Just like how I felt.
After what seemed (and actually were) hours, I decided it was time to move a little. Let the energy flow. (I know I know, that’s not what the rule says. Perhaps, I do am a bit of a rebel.)
I left for a walk, bringing no phone with me. I could bend the rule a little, but I knew I would push it too hard if I added "...and bring your AirPods with you."
I walked to the park, took a few laps. I continued to look around, made an effort not to dwell on the emotional drama I had been acting out since the morning. It felt like a real, physical effort.
On my way home I passed by the supermarket. Tempted, once again, to hit the ice cream fridge and get me some comfort. But, for the sake of the experiment, I told myself no. "Tomorrow, maybe."
I came back home. A simple Thai green curry dinner. I prepared the table for two, me and my emotion. By the time the food was ready, I called out for my guest.
"Honeeeeey, dinner is ready!"
No one answered.
For the first night in some time I went to bed serene. And finally, that's how I remained the following days—serene at last.
If you're a mid-career professional ready to navigate your career transition without sacrificing financial security, let's talk. Sometimes all you need is someone who's been there to hold your hand while walking out of the woods.
