Category: Mental Health

We often reserve the term “mentally strong” to describe people who accomplished extraordinary feats in the face of great adversity. Rarely, however, do we use these words to describe ourselves; possibly because we are painfully aware of our own shortcomings, or because we don’t consider our achievements as noteworthy enough. But mental strength comes in many shapes and forms. And if we pay attention and know where to look, we can witness it every day—in us and other people around us.

For instance, do you ever feel tired after waking up, but still get dressed, because you don’t want to be late for work? Or have you ever wanted to shout profanities after being cut off in traffic on your way to work, but decided not to, because your child was in the backseat? Both examples require mental strength. It’s not just unpleasant emotions either — have you ever allowed a compliment to penetrate your being without an automatic dismissal, or allowed your eyes to linger in your lover’s eyes just a moment longer even though you feel vulnerable in doing so? That too is mental strength.

Whenever you display a willingness to enter your own experience more fully in the service of a greater purpose, you exhibit mental strength. And the more frequently you act this way, the more you stretch your mental muscles, and the more you strengthen your ability to act purpose-driven in the future.

Naturally, becoming mentally strong isn’t always easy, nor is it straightforward. The process involves a lot of nuances, and it requires you to foster distinct qualities along the way. Specifically, four qualities stand out, and if you practice any of them you can improve not just your mental strength, but your overall well-being. You might already recognize some of these qualities, whereas others may feel entirely foreign to you. Either way, please view the following list not as a yardstick to rate yourself on, but rather as opportunities for your personal growth. With, here are four qualities of mentally strong people.

Sign #1 They are open to new possibilities.

Mentally strong people don’t stay on a single-loop track. They are rarely limited by preconceived notions about how they must think, feel, or act, who they have to be, what they have to focus on, or what they have to care about. Rather than rigidly following self-imposed rules, mentally strong people are more open, can choose more freely, and are likelier to explore new possibilities. They can hold disparate thoughts at the same time; they can stay when an automatic mindset says to leave; they can let go when the mind says to cling. Because of these habits of mind and behavior, they can access a broader range of their experiences — both pleasant and unpleasant — without having to resist or cling to them.

Now, please notice what your mind does with this information because it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I always have to be open to new possibilities” (which, ironically, is just another self-imposed rule). Rather than obeying your mind, see if you can just notice that this thought is currently unfolding in your consciousness, and allow it to be without following its demand. You can practice trying out new possibilities, without turning it into a rule that you always “have” to do so. After all, you are free to choose, again and again.

Sign #2 They choose what works.

Mentally strong people are not just more open to new strategies — they are also likelier to choose the ones that work. This may sound simple enough, but this quality contains several subskills. For starters, it requires knowing your objectives — whether this is about your goals or more deeper-seated values. In either case, you need to have a somewhat clearer direction, so you know what even constitutes “working” in the first place. Additionally, it requires a certain level of self-awareness, so you can assess whether you are moving closer to your objectives — or whether you are just deluding yourself.

I highly recommend going through this process with a trained mental health professional, because it’s easy to lose sight of your deeper goals and values, or to mistakenly believe that you are making progress when in reality you are not. If this is currently not an option for you, I advise monitoring your goals with the help of a trusted person, and/or getting objective feedback with a tracking device (e.g., by using an app on your smartphone). Having a reliable feedback system is essential when it comes to making effective improvements.

Sign #3 They build successful habits.

If you read self-help articles before, you probably know what comes next. Yes, it is a cliché, but for good reasons, because becoming mentally strong doesn’t happen by chance. Instead, it happens by consistently acting in ways that move you toward your chosen objectives. The emphasis here lies in the word “consistently,” because one-off actions are rarely enough to have a lasting impact. Only by building successful actions into habits can you gain the momentum needed to make a difference in your mental fortitude and your life in general.

I advise you to start slowly. Choose a new action — like going for a daily jog — and then make it smaller. Probably even smaller still. So small, in fact, that it becomes almost ridiculous for you not to do it. This might mean going for a one-minute jog and then returning home. The key here is to not yet focus on the desired end result but rather to focus on building consistency. Give yourself a “10-day challenge” in which every day you do something that carries you forward. You can aim bigger once you have shown some consistency in your efforts.

Sign #4 They adjust to their circumstances.

Finally, mentally strong people adapt to their circumstances. They don’t wait for the perfect conditions before they can start taking action, nor do they stubbornly persist in their efforts, disregarding any feedback. Instead, they are more resourceful. They can accurately estimate the demands of their current context, and their own capabilities, and then adjust their actions and expectations accordingly, so that they still pursue their objectives, but at a workable level, given their current inner and outer circumstances.

A choice that is right in one context may be disastrous in another — and vice versa. For instance, if you’re driving over the speed limit, you risk injuring yourself and others. However, if a loved one sits in the backseat and is in serious need of medical attention, rushing to the nearest hospital may be the right course of action. There are rarely any easy answers, and what you consider to be “right” almost always depends on your context. Mentally strong people are aware of this dilemma and adjust themselves — again, and again.

New research on how SSRIs work, and some ideas for making the wait a little easier.

When my doctor told me that the antidepressant, she had just described would take up to six weeks to take maximum effect, I didn’t know what to say. It had taken all the energy I had just to make that appointment and show up to it. I had no idea how to think about, let alone make it through, six more weeks of anxiety and exhaustion.

More than a decade later, those six weeks now appear as just a blip on the arc of a lifetime. But in the throes of depression, the prescription to wait weeks for relief is hard to hear.

Why do the most prescribed antidepressants — selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, or SSRIs — take so long to work? And how do they work? Answers to these questions have proven surprisingly elusive, but new research has brought us closer to a full understanding and pave the way for insights into what causes depression to begin with

Can you hear me now?

Nerves communicate to each other by releasing chemical signals — including serotonin — at small connections called “synapses” between the nerves. While the brain sends some signals to the body by way of the bloodstream with hormones that hang around for minutes to days, signals sent through nerves (whether to other parts of the brain or other parts of the body, like muscles) need to be brief.

Imagine a symphony where every note played by every instrument lasted for 5 minutes. The result would be a cacophony — not music. In the same way, nerve signals need to be snappy if you are going to, say, run down the street or process a constant stream of visual data from your eyes.

Nerves accomplish this instantaneous signaling by slurping their chemical signals back up right after they release them — a process called “reuptake”. SSRIs slow down this reuptake process to make the signals sent by some nerves a little longer and a little louder.

Simple enough, right? Not exactly. Although SSRIs alleviate depression for many people, it has proved difficult to determine how nerve signaling with serotonin is involved in depression in the first place. And as a result, we don’t know for sure how SSRIs treat depression. If SSRIs work simply by turning up the volume on nerve signals, one might expect them to work quickly.

But they don’t — as I and countless other patients can tell you from first-hand experience.

Gitte Moos Knudson, MD, professor of neurobiology at Copenhagen University Hospital, looked at the effects of SSRIs from a new angle. Her lab wondered if SSRIs stimulate the formation of new synapses between neurons — rather than simply turning up the volume at existing synapses. Their new research, published this month in the journal Molecular Psychiatry, demonstrated that this is in fact the case.

Treatment with the SSRI escitalopram (brand name Lexapro) in healthy volunteers resulted in the formation of new nerve connections within large regions of the brain.

Rather than making each instrument in the brain symphony play louder and longer, escitalopram seemed to add more instruments to the orchestra.

“We found that with those taking the SSRI, over time there was a gradual increase in synapses in the neocortex and the hippocampus of the brain, compared to those taking placebo,” said Knudson, in a statement. “We did not see any effect in those taking placebo.”

Forming new brain connections takes time. Knudson’s study found an increase in synapses over the course of 5 weeks. Whether this process continues after 5 weeks remains an open question and was not addressed in this study.

“I wouldn’t say that it is the final answer, but it is a candidate mechanism that many scientists find plausible,” Knudson told me.

Not only does this research suggest how SSRIs work, but it also may help explain why depression occurs in the first place. Future studies can look more closely at where these new connections are being formed, which may help us understand which brain regions are involved in depression.

One size does not fit all

However, SSRIs work, they do not work for everyone. Different studies give different response rates, largely due to variations in the definition of “response”. But in general terms, any given patient has around a 50% chance of responding to any particular SSRI. (Why people respond differently to different SSRIs remains another scientific mystery.) And a significant proportion of patients will not respond at all even after trying several different SSRIs.

I asked Knudsen why that might be. “Patients with major depressive disorder have (kind of) similar symptoms, but many of us believe that depression has many different causes and that should be treated differently. I think this is a likely reason why the patients respond differently.”

Identifying different sub-types of depression and tailoring therapy accordingly is a young and important area of research.

Don’t wait for it

While all this research may advance the field and open the way to new and better treatments in the future, it provides little comfort to those suffering symptoms of depression who are waiting for their medication to take effect right now.

If you are one of those individuals, here is a list of some things you can do — based on a combination of personal experience and what experts in the field suggest — while you wait.

• Give yourself credit for getting to this point. Making an appointment and going to the doctor can be a monumental task when you are depressed. By taking these steps, you have already achieved something important for yourself. You have already demonstrated hope and resilience by reaching out to your doctor. Continue to nurture that sense of hope for the future.
• Take part in other therapeutic activities that have scientifically proven benefits for depression. This includes exercise and meditation. “I fully understand that it can be painful to wait for the therapeutic effect to set in,” said Knudson. “Neuroplasticity is also promoted by physical exercise, so my advice is to try and get some exercise outdoors, e.g., taking a walk in a park or in the forest.”
• Open your mind to the placebo effect. Around 35% of patients with depression improve significantly just by taking an inactive placebo tablet in randomized, controlled trials. This demonstrates that a combination of time and positive thinking is truly helpful for many people. So remind yourself each day that it is possible that you will feel a little better today even if your new medication has not kicked in yet.
• Minimize self-medication. Mind-altering substances like marijuana or alcohol, while providing short-term relief, can exacerbate depression and may interact in undesirable ways with antidepressant medication.

Finally, make a plan. Using the suggestions above and others from friends, family, and healthcare professionals, map out a schedule for yourself. Choose one therapeutic strategy per week for the next 5 weeks, and then spend 15–30 minutes per day focused on that activity or thought pattern.

These activities may help on their own, or at least help run out the clock while your new medication kicks in. Hopefully both.

Learning compassion for those suffering from complex trauma.

“Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort.” Bessel van der Kolk

Let me start by saying that this may be a trigger warning for some, and I apologize to anyone who may find this emotionally disturbing, but I feel this needs to be said, so it can be better understood.

To say…” the past is alive in the form of gnawing inferior discomfort” is anunderstatement. Yes, it’s alive. It can’t be shut off or escaped. It wakes us up with nightmares. It screws with our appetite and our weight plummets. It causes headaches, nervous conditions, hives, anger, depression, and anxiety. These are on a good day.

On a bad day, many feel hopeless, suicidal.

It has us believing we somehow “deserved” the trauma. It keeps us chained to the narrative taught in childhood that we weren’t good enough. Or, when we got another beating. Or, when our caregiver told us we were never wanted. When we cried ourselves to sleep at night…only to relive another round of it the next day, or the next week.

We learned to hide the bruises by not dressing out for phys-ed. We learned to fake a smile. We learned to always have a book with us, so that we would look “busy” and not be bothered. We began losing ourselves in those books, and they became a much-needed distraction, and our best friend. These familiar cycles become comforting in a twisted way when it’s all you’ve known, and all you’ve been taught to believe you’re worth.

Anyone who has experienced trauma understands this simple equation: past event + trauma = the potential to relive that trauma through other events. When trauma is complex, multiply what is felt by the total number of events, which can exponentially increase the emotional trauma experienced. For many who battle cPTSD, they can wind up living in the past — unable to move past the pain and struggling to heal from it. They feel trapped. Alone.

And, believe it or not, some with cPTSD actually prefer being alone.

Do we want to self-isolate? To say “hell no” wouldn’t be fair. Or entirely accurate. Who would intentionally want to spend their days avoiding the Amazon courier’s knock at the door, or the guy who asked you out at the gym? Yet, these can (and often do) become triggers — reminders that there is a world outside the safety of your home, the comfort of your bed, and the protection of your family. So, you ask for your packages to be left in the backyard to avoid having to answer the door. You give up your gym membership because the guy at the gym reminds you of your ex who traumatized you and replaced you so fast, you learned the hard way how easily some people can discard a human being. You opt for DIY YouTube workout videos. You learn to forward your calls, and you learn the off-hours at the store so you can shop when it’s less “people-y”.

On the other hand, YES. We want to isolate ourselves from the potential of being re-traumatized. So, we build our walls higher, and our armor stronger. We find comfort and peace in nature. Animals. Journaling. We’ve learned to exchange loud and overcrowded places for time alone. We’ve learned the value of quality over quantity. We’ve learned the importance of going within and healing our soul from the damage.

Because anyone who has experienced complicated grief tends to feel mental fog, emotional exhaustion and physical pain, we tire more easily. We can’t juggle as many things at once anymore. We may not have the energy we once used to, and many don’t care to. Taking life slower becomes therapy in-and-of-itself.

When a person has been traumatized and receives a diagnosis of complicated grief, or cPTSD, it’s often after a longstanding history of repeated traumatization. When trauma is chronic, begins in early childhood or infancy and is repeated, it’s damaging on every level: mental, emotional, physical, and psychological. It damages how we understand ourselves and how we see the world.

Many who have cPTSD struggle in differentiating between what’s safe and secure, versus what’s familiar and comfortable.

When safety and security are shattered in early childhood, a kid grows up learning things backwards; they begin attracting and are attracted to, people and situations that are toxic. Some befriend people who are inauthentic. Or, fall in love with people who are narcissistic. Some trust too easily, or not at all. And, they shy away from people and situations that are safe and healthy. This phenomenon is a result of the damage caused by repeated trauma — it effects thought, cognition, emotion, and a person’s sense of safety. This is what sets a person up for further re-traumatization.

Anyone who has had a rash of narcissistic relationships typically fits this bill.

It’s said that until we authentically learn to love ourselves, our relationships will be a repeat of our earliest traumas in one form or another. Those with cPTSD are at an increased risk of experiencing re-traumatization because of their prior history. Some say it’s like blood in the water to a shark, so maybe that’s one reason they choose to self-isolate, to lower the probability of being seen as prey. Others have a different sense of how they see the world after repeated trauma and abuse, and have chosen to keep their circle extremely small while only letting in family.

Reasons For Self-Isolation

According to Dr. Judith Lewis-Herman, she proposed three stages of healing from complex trauma which include: establishing safety, mourning and grieving, and re-establishing connections. These three stages are non-negotiable for healing. It can take years to move through one stage, especially when establishing a sense of safety for yourself.

Research suggests that those with complicated grief or a diagnosis of cPTSD tend to be more Avoidantly attached, especially when the abuse and trauma began in childhood. For example, a recent study suggests an Avoidant/Dismissive attachment style is significantly correlated with both the core symptoms of PTSD and the Disorders in Self-Organization (DSO) seen in complex PTSD. Other research has suggested that an Avoidant attachment style seen in cPTSD is one of the most important distinguishing differences between BPD and a Disorganized attachment that is common.

There are several reasons why a person with cPTSD will choose to self-isolate. A few of the common ones include:

Cyclic Nature. This identifies the repetition compulsion in which Freud often spoke. With repetition compulsion, when a child is traumatized and it has not been dealt with or healed, the trauma can lay dormant until it is triggered “awake” by another, similar trauma. For example, in simplifying Freud, we may be unconsciously drawn to people as partners who represent our unhealed core wounds, thus re-triggering the core wound, and repeated trauma. This may crop up in dating someone who is scary similar to how your mother behaves, her personality quirks, her own disorders, or her reactivity when triggered. Or, it may show up in dating someone who is like your father who was emotionally cut-off, Avoidant, and abandoned you in childhood.

If these situations have been experienced often enough, a person with complicated grief or cPTSD may decide to throw in the towel and avoid relationships altogether, where isolating themselves is less of a risk to their emotional safety.

It’s “Safe”. The biggest A-ha! is that by staying isolated we feel safe. It’s true. But, it becomes circular — we feel a sense of safety by disconnecting and isolating ourselves, so we continue doing it. In time, we begin upping the ante in how much we avoid. Instead of only going to the store during the off-hours, we now avoid the store altogether. Or call in to Amazon for delivery, and to leave it in the backyard. Or, we send a family member out for groceries.

Connection Is Too Exhausting. Connection may include any communication with friends, family or loved ones. Many times, when a person has experienced complicated grief or cPTSD, relationships become secondary to being alone. It can take too much energy trying to talk, trying to fake-happy, or in answering questions from loved ones. Small talk can become annoying, and when a person has experienced complicated grief, it’s like they can see through b.s., or just don’t want to expend the energy dealing with it. Some just realize the shift in their priorities where casual conversations and superficial connections just don’t cut it, anymore.

Some may lose touch with those in their lives, and may not see the possible dangers of continued self-isolation, which can include an increase in depressive symptoms, even suicidal ideation.

“Recovery cannot occur in isolation.” — Dr. Judith Lewis Herman

Asyou begin working through your disconnection, you start to become more connected — to your Self, to your family, your friends, your therapist. You begin peeling back the layers that have kept you disconnected, and little by little, you start understanding the “why’s”, and the “how’s” in rebuilding your sense of security.

This doesn’t happen easily, or quickly. I think one of the biggest mistakes made is trying to rush healing, where if we try to half-ass it, or bandaid it, we run the risk of falling right back into the same pattern of traumatization. Emotional bandaids are short-term efforts that don’t last. They can’t.

Why?

Because when the core issues are dodged and avoided, they’re still there. They’re only masked.

Learning to reconnect and to begin re-engaging with our Self is a process. We have to dig deep to figure out what has been keeping us disconnected, and how to begin taking the first steps in reconnecting with our life.

People who’ve survived complex trauma don’t need pity. We need empathy. Compassion. Understanding. We need one person we can rely on through thick and thin. We need a secure base. And, through the process of healing, we learn to give ourselves that secure base.

Do you agree?

References

Dijke, A., et al. (2018). Affect dysregulation, psychoform dissociation, and adult relational fears mediate the relationship between childhood trauma and complex posttraumatic stress disorder independent of the symptoms of borderline personality disorder. European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 9, 1–14.

Ford, J. D. (2017). Complex trauma and complex posttraumatic stress disorder. Handbook of Trauma Psychology, 1,(15), 281- 305.

Herman, J. L. (1997). Trauma and recovery. New York: BasicBooks.

Herman, J. L. (1998). Recovery from psychological trauma. Psychiatry & Clinical Neurosciences, 52, S145–S150.

Karatzias, T., et al. (2021). Childhood trauma, attachment orientation, and complex PTSD (CPTSD) symptoms in a clinical sample: Implications for treatment. Development of Psychopathology: Cambridge.

Endlessly talking about your tough times may be bad for you, a growing number of scientists are starting to believe.

I have had more than my fair share of therapy. I’ve had numerous therapists, I’ve tried all the main therapeutic models, and still to this day I periodically kick myself for not starting sooner. So, I’m firmly pro-therapy. I heartily recommend it. It’s a glorious and effective thing.

And it did rather hurt my little feelings when recently my current therapist sat me down and tried to break up with me.

I put up a valiant fight (“Not you too! What about my abandonment complex!”) but we’re no longer doing any useful clinical work, he argued. Therapy, he said, is meant to be about learning new behavioral skills to cope with the demands of life. Once those have been learned and implemented, you’re done.

He might be right. Too much talking about our troubles could be making us ill, a new study from scientists at the University of Cambridge suggests.

“We’re all familiar with the Freudian idea,” Michael Anderson, Ph.D., a professor of psychology, said in a statement, “that if we suppress our feelings or thoughts, then these thoughts remain in our unconscious, influencing our behavior and wellbeing perniciously.”

But, according to his study, a stiff upper lip might actually be the better approach. People who suppress negative thoughts, he found, are almost always happier for it. “Although more work will be needed to confirm the findings,” Anderson said, “it seems like it is possible and could even be potentially beneficial to actively suppress our fearful thoughts.”

Stop talking about it!

It is a terrible personal blow. Therapy in its Philip Roth guise — see your analyst thrice weekly for a decade, lie on the chaise longue, and talk your heart out (the analyst, invariably, will rarely speak) — is falling out of fashion, and in the view of some clinicians, was never especially helpful in the first place.

So I have skin in the game, and I wanted to find out more about what the researchers at the Medical Research Council (MRC) Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit led by Anderson had done exactly.

It is, as studies go, larger than many, involving 120 volunteers across 16 countries, and they worked with these people to test whether it is (a) possible and (b) beneficial for people to practice suppressing painful thoughts.

Each participant was asked to think of a number of scenarios that might plausibly occur in their lives over the next two years: 20 negatives (like a bereavement), 20 positives (like a wedding), and 36 neutrals (like a trip to the dentist). For each scenario, they were to provide a cue word and a key detail, and they were asked to rate each event on several points including likelihood of occurrence and emotional intensity.

Then, each participant completed daily training exercises, 20 minutes a day for three consecutive days. Using their cue words and their key details, they were asked to imagine 12 events as vividly as possible, and they were asked to block all thoughts associated with another 12. It sounds like hard work, not least because, for these “no-imagine trials,” participants had to stare directly at the cue word as they set about blocking any images thoughts, or feelings that the reminder evoked.

But, as an exercise, it seems to have worked tremendously. Following the training — both immediately and after three months — the vast majority of participants reported that their “suppressed” events had become less vivid and less fearful. They also found themselves thinking about these events less.

The diminishing returns of rumination?

“It was very clear that those events that participants practiced suppressing were less vivid, less emotionally anxiety-inducing, than the other events and that overall, participants improved in terms of their mental health,” said Zulkayda Mamat, PhD, another of the scientists leading the study.

Interestingly, suppressing thoughts even improved mental health amongst participants with post-traumatic stress disorder, the study found. And, in general, people with worse mental health symptoms at the outset of the study improved more after training their minds to suppress their fears.

It has the potential to be a bit of a game-changer. It certainly flies in the face of current mental health dogma that, when it comes to negative life experiences, it’s better to say it out loud and to talk about it for as long as you need.

However, it’s worth bearing in mind that you can use therapy to help train your mind to achieve a similar effect to what those who participated in the study achieved. “I didn’t think that what they did was that different to what happens in some types of therapy anyway,” Abigael San, PhD, a clinical psychologist and spokesperson for the British Psychological Society, told Medical News Today. She said this was likely because participants had been encouraged to confront the negative thought and then encouraged not to ruminate on it, which is known to cause problems.

Or you can use a different type of therapy to approach the problem of rumination from a completely different angle. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), for example, helps people accept negative thoughts, “observing them, not rejecting them, not trying to remove them; just letting them pass, letting them flow, but at the same time getting on with our life and keeping on doing what we have to do, without paying any more attention to these thoughts,” said Luis Valero Aguayo, a professor of psychology at the University of Malaga who was not involved in the research. “Together with other thought change techniques, this ‘acceptance’ has been shown to be very effective in decreasing discomfort, so that it eventually disappears or becomes unimportant to the individual.”

Stiff upper lip, come back, all is forgiven!

The stiff upper lip got canceled a long time ago, and it does carry with it certain class connotations of yesteryear, but is it due to a comeback? Is wearing our problems like a badge of pride making us any happier? Are we doing ourselves more harm than good? And what would our ancestors make of our cultural course correction? If we could reincarnate them, would they laugh at our self-obsession? Would they consider us objects of pity?

If I’m being honest with myself, sometimes I’ve found therapy a bit boring. Not always — sometimes it has been extremely hard work, and emotionally very taxing — but at other times I’ve found myself thinking: “Oh not this again, for God’s sake. Can’t we just talk about the weather?”

But running alongside that, I do really like the idea of having therapy forever. Why must it end? There’s something very civilized and sophisticated, I thought and still sometimes think about the ongoing examination of a life in motion. I’m a writer. If I don’t think that, I’m in the wrong job. But if my therapist gets his way, one of the expressions of that life philosophy is about to change.

And it’s forcing me to confront some difficult truths. Therapy isn’t meant to be a talking shop, wallowing in the past and ruminating. It is good to talk, but it’s not necessarily good to talk on repeat. It is important to be open and honest about our feelings, but there is something to be said for not giving in to them too easily, either. And there’s a fine line between embracing our negative feelings to rob them of the power they might otherwise have over us, and endlessly ruminating on all the stuff that maybe didn’t even matter all that much in the first place.

If I’m going to play, it must be on my own terms.

In my opinion, the most dangerous emotion one can experience is happiness. Now, I know what you’re thinking — how can happiness be dangerous? Shouldn’t it be something we all strive for?

Well, hear me out.

I’ve been through the ups and downs of life, just like everyone else. I’ve felt the depths of sadness and the fiery rage of anger. And those emotions, as intense as they may be, don’t hold a candle to the peril that happiness can bring.

When I’m feeling down and out, there’s a certain comfort in knowing that the only way to go is up. I can wallow in my sorrow for a little while, have a good cry, and eventually, things start looking up again.

Anger, too, has its outlets. I’ve had those moments where I’m so mad that I’ve thrown myself on the bed, screamed into a pillow, and even taken a power nap to cool off. Somehow, expressing my anger, even if it’s just to myself through writing, provides a temporary relief. It’s like releasing the steam from a pressure cooker, allowing me to regain some semblance of calm.

Other emotions, such as fear, shame, guilt, etc., can all be worked through and released, and one can then rise on the scale of consciousness, but happiness is a treacherous thing.

Happiness is a much higher vibration and what goes up eventually comes down. When I find myself feeling so happy, especially if it stems from external sources, I can’t help but feel a sense of unease. It’s like being on a roller coaster ride that’s exhilarating, yet you know the fall is inevitable.

It’s such a scary feeling to feel so high. And the higher you go, the harder the fall.

Relying on other people for my happiness is a risky game. It’s too dangerous for me to play. Whether it’s a boy who makes me smile or a kind word from a friend who makes me happy, it’s a ticking time bomb that makes me very uncomfortable.

That’s because humans are fickle creatures, and our moods can change in an instant. Today, they may lift you up with their words or actions, but tomorrow, they might say or do another thing that brings you crashing down.

I believe that if a person has the power to make me so happy, then they have the power to make me so sad. So, when I find myself happy because of someone else, I can’t help but worry. It’s a fragile state, teetering on the edge of uncertainty.

When we put all our happiness eggs in the external basket, we’re basically giving away the remote control to our emotional well-being. We become like those inflatable toys, bobbing up and down depending on the whims of the world. And that roller coaster ride is bound to leave you feeling queasy.

Happiness is a good feeling emotion and we have the power to make it a safe haven by finding it within ourselves. It’s like having your own secret stash of joy that doesn’t rely on anyone else.

True happiness must come from within, from a place that is not dependent on anybody else. That way, it becomes a steady flame, not easily extinguished by the unpredictable winds of life.

When we tap into our inner happiness, it’s like finding a rock-solid anchor that keeps us steady amidst life’s storms. This inner happiness becomes like a cozy little fire burning inside us, radiating warmth and contentment.

So, how do we unlock this inner happiness?

For me, it was all about getting in touch with myself. I found those little things that light me up from the inside and make them a part of my everyday life. Like writing and teaching or listening to music or an empowering podcast.

When my happiness is my own — born from within — I’m not at the mercy of others’ opinions or actions. I become the captain of my own ship, steering it through calm waters and stormy seas.

And that is an empowering feeling.

You can also make your happiness your own. Take a moment to reflect on what truly brings you joy. Maybe it’s belting out your favorite tunes in the shower, trying out new recipes in the kitchen, or simply staring at the stars on a clear night. Dive deep within yourself and find your happiness there. Do more of the things that bring you joy and nurture your well-being in the process.

Your own happiness will keep you smiling through life’s ups and downs.

Happiness, as paradoxical as it may seem, can be the most dangerous emotion. Its dependence on external factors and the potential for a sudden fall make it a precarious tightrope to walk. But by seeking happiness from within ourselves, we can find a more resilient and enduring joy that withstands the turbulence of life.

I want to be happy, but if I’m going to play the happiness game, then it must be on my own terms.

Instead of just wanting to be happy, I want to strive for happiness that is rooted in my own heart.

Happiness that is from within is joy and if my joy is mine then it can never be taken away from me no matter the circumstances.

I can be sad, mad, or feel bad and still have joy.

#1: You intellectualize your feelings.

Do you wish you could regulate your emotions better?

• Maybe you want to lower your baseline level of anxiety and nervousness.
• Maybe you want to stop getting so angry and irritable at small annoyances.
• Or maybe you wish you could move on from some kind of grief or deep sadness.

Painful emotions are difficult to live with. So, the desire to regulate or control them is understandable. And while it is possible to change the way you feel emotionally, how you go about it matters a lot…

A lot of people make their painful emotions stronger and longer lasting because they use the wrong emotion regulation strategies.

In the rest of this article, we’ll look at three common reasons why you might find it difficult to regulate your emotions.

If you can learn to identify and let go of these habits, you’ll find your emotions considerably easier to deal with.

1. You intellectualize your feelings

Intellectualizing your emotions means using overly abstract, metaphorical, or conceptual language to describe how you feel.

For example:

• Instead of saying I’m sad when someone asks you about a recent death in the family, you say Yeah, it’s been really tough.
• Instead of saying I’m angry when your spouse asks what’s wrong, you say I’m just a little stressed.
• Instead of saying I’m afraid I’ll lose my job, you say I’m just super overwhelmed and burnt out.

Terms like tough, stressed, and overwhelmed are not emotions. They’re ideas or concepts.

And as adults, most of us get in the habit of substituting these conceptual or metaphorical words for real emotions because it’s less painful.

• Just coming out with it and saying I’m sad is vulnerable for a lot of people and therefore scary. But saying things have been rough is much vaguer and therefore opens you up to less vulnerability.
• Just coming out with it and telling someone that you’re angry is hard because, for example, you might be worried about them getting angry or upset with you for being angry. Saying I’m stressed lets you avoid any of that.

In other words:

We intellectualize our feelings because it makes them feel less bad.

In the short term anyway…

Even though substituting a vague metaphor for a difficult emotion like fear or shame might help you avoid that feeling right now, it’s wreaking havoc on your ability to regulate your emotions long term.

See, when you get in the habit of avoiding difficult emotions with intellectualizations, you’re effectively teaching your brain that you’re afraid of those emotions — when your brain sees you habitually run away from something, it understandably assumes that thing is dangerous.

This means that you’re slowly and steadily building up a generalized fear and intolerance of painful emotions. So, the next time you feel afraid/angry/sad/etc., you’re going to feel fear or perhaps shame on top of the initial emotion. And this compounding of painful emotions is one of the biggest reasons why you struggle to regulate your emotions.

Feeling bad is hard enough without feeling bad about feeling bad.

When you avoid difficult feelings by intellectualizing them, you teach your brain that it’s bad to feel bad, which only makes you more emotionally fragile in the long run.

So, try to pay closer attention to the words you use to describe your feelings. And when possible, try to use plain, simple language to describe how you feel emotionally.

2. You try to control your thoughts

One of the most interesting questions in psychology is: Can I control my thoughts?

On some level the answer is of course you can!

• If I tell you to imagine a pink dinosaur, you can probably do it.
• Or if I asked you to multiply 13 x 4 in your head, you could probably do it.
• If I told you to recall who the last President of the United States was, you could probably do it.

Clearly, we can control our thoughts to some degree.

But try this: Whatever you do, don’t think about a pink dinosaur.

…

…

…

Well, could you, do it? Yeah, probably not.

When you tell your mind not to think of a pink dinosaur it (annoyingly) does the opposite and images of pink dinosaurs start popping into your head even though you don’t want them to.

In fact, there are tons of examples of uncontrolled thinking…

• Old memories sometimes just pop into mind for no reason.
• A worry about your health could jump into consciousness after watching a movie where a character dies of a long, drawn-out health issue.
• A song might get stuck in your head and play itself on repeat for a few hours.

Clearly, we don’t have total control over our thoughts either.

I bring all this up because the single most important factor in how you feel emotionally is how you think…

• If you’re constantly worrying, then you’re going to feel constantly anxious.
• If you’re constantly ruminating on past mistakes, then you’re going to feel sad or guilty.
• If you’re constantly telling yourself what jerks’ other people are, you’re going to constantly feel angry.

How we think determines how we feel.

If this is true, then one of the best ways to regulate our emotions would be to regulate our thoughts, right? Think happier, more pleasant thoughts and I’ll experience happier, more pleasant emotions, right?

Technically, yes. And there’s a lot to be said for learning to edit or restructure overly negative thinking patterns to improve how you feel.

However, it’s very easy to start off with the intention of controlling your thoughts only to end up being controlled by them…

• Have you ever found yourself worrying, then started telling yourself to stop worrying, only to find yourself worrying even more and feeling more anxious?
• Or, have you ever noticed yourself feeling angry, then started listing all the reasons why you shouldn’t feel angry, only to find yourself feeling just as angry but also guilty now too?

Trying to control your thoughts often backfires and leads to more unhelpful thoughts which lead to even more intense and dysregulated emotions.

A far better strategy is to simply acknowledge and accept difficult thought patterns like worry or rumination, and then focus on controlling your attention instead.

And the reason is simple:

You have far more control over your attention than your thoughts.

Here’s a quick example:

• You’re at work and you give one of your employees some fair but tough criticism on a piece of work.
• Afterward, you find yourself worrying about whether you were too harsh and starting to feel anxious and guilty as a result.
• You know you did the right thing, but it’s hard to shake those feelings of anxiety and guilt.
• So, how could you regulate those emotions best?
• OPTION 1: Try and control your thoughts around the incident and keep explaining to yourself that you did the right thing and don’t need to feel bad. And while it might help to some degree, you run the risk of worrying even more — What if he quits over this? It’ll take forever to find a replacement, etc. — and feeling even more anxious.
• OPTION 2: Take control of your attention and try to shift your focus to something more productive. For example, you might get up, put on a podcast, and go for a quick 10-minute walk, then come back and refocus on a different project.

In my experience, OPTION 2 works far better and more reliably than OPTION 1.

So, if you find yourself overthinking difficult emotions and only getting more and more wrapped up in them, try this instead:

Let your thoughts do whatever they want and take control of your attention instead.

3. You judge yourself for how you feel

In #1 above, we talked about how intellectualizing your emotions was really just an avoidance strategy. And then when you get in the habit of avoiding your emotions, it tends to make them worse long term because you’re teaching your brain to feel afraid of difficult emotions generally.

Well, a similar dynamic happens when you’re in the habit of being critical or judgmental of yourself for your emotions.

For example:

• You start to feel anxious and then think to yourself Damnit, why can’t I just be strong and let this go!
• You start to get frustrated with your kids and raise your voice, then immediately think to yourself Ugh… I’m always angry at my kids. I’m such a lousy parent…
• Something reminds you of an old boyfriend from years ago and you start to feel sad only to then berate yourself: Why do I always live in the past. I shouldn’t feel sad anymore. I should be over this!

In all these cases, you’re essentially criticizing yourself for how you feel. And when you’re in the habit of constantly criticizing yourself for how you feel, it sends the message to your brain that it’s not okay to feel bad.

This means the next time you feel bad (sad, anxious, angry, etc.) you’re also going to feel bad about feeling bad — angry about feeling sad, anxious about feeling angry, etc.

And when you compound difficult emotions like this, they go from painful but manageable to overwhelming.

On the other hand, you’d be surprised how much more manageable difficult feelings are when you’re not simultaneously feeling bad about the fact that you feel bad.

Put another way…

It’s a lot easier to regulate difficult emotions when you’re not also beating yourself up for feeling them.

So, if you want to get better at emotion regulation, start to pay attention to how you react to difficult emotions. And whenever possible, practice a little self-compassion and validation instead of judgment and criticism.

All You Need to Know

Here are three tips to improve your emotion regulation skills:

1. Don’t intellectualize your feelings.
2. Control your attention, not your thoughts.
3. Stop judging yourself for how you feel.

Is your procrastination a trauma response?

Just like fight or flight, freezing is an automatic, involuntary response to a threat. That means it’s not a conscious decision — it’s something we do unconsciously to protect ourselves.

We freeze when we feel completely helpless, meaning when the circumstances are so painful/stressful that we can’t fight, and flight is not possible either. Sometimes, the freeze response is so ingrained in our minds that we don’t even realize it is our go-to response.

Many of us associate freezing with “dissociating” or “going blank” under specific circumstances, but the truth is that it’s much more complex than that. Some people are continually stuck in the freeze response or spend 60% of their lives freezing — that was my case.

So how exactly does the freeze response manifest in our adult lives?

Let’s dive into it.

Why Do We Freeze?

Usually, people associate the freeze response with traumatic situations like sexual or physical abuse. However, it can also be a response to prolonged stress (like growing up in a dysfunctional family).

When that’s the case, we “learn to freeze” in childhood. As children, we’re too small to fight or run away from our parents. If their behavior is unfair, inconsistent, or even abusive, we feel completely powerless. The only thing we can do is numb ourselves and dissociate.

As I wrote before, our trauma responses are largely based on what our brains think will help us survive the situation.

Sometimes your brain thinks fighting is not possible, so it immediately turns to other coping mechanisms like freezing or fawning. Or, you may gravitate towards one response but have a different response in certain situations. It all depends on your background. For instance, my predominant responses have always been fawn and flight. However, I also tend to freeze when certain emotions come up.

‘Laziness,’ Lack of Motivation, And Procrastination

When there’s a threat and our subconscious mind thinks fighting is not an option, we go into a frozen state. We feel powerless, our bodies shut down, and we’re unable to react to whatever is happening to us.

More often than not, the freeze response lasts between 30 to 90 seconds. However, some of us get stuck in it for weeks, months, or even years.

When we’re stuck in the freeze, we feel numb and immobilized. We have no energy, and every task feels like a nightmare (even small things like taking a shower or preparing a meal). To make things even worse, we then judge ourselves for not being productive and motivated. We think, “What’s wrong with me?” only to make the “same mistakes” the next day, reinforcing the feelings of self-hatred and unworthiness.

Another common sign we’re stuck in freeze is feeling an extreme need to isolate. People who freeze often struggle with thoughts/beliefs like “I can only be myself when I’m alone,” which leads them to isolate themselves from loved ones.

Here’s a small list of signs you’re stuck in freeze:

• when something triggers you (when you have to deal with emotionally difficult situations), you get extremely tired. You just want to lay in your bed all day and do nothing;
• you tend to distract yourself with movies, series, or video games (anything that allows you to temporarily ignore your emotions);
• you keep telling yourself, “Just move,” but it feels like you have no control over your own body. You know you’re physically able to move but can’t;
• even though you’re somewhat numb, your muscles are taut and you still struggle with intrusive thoughts;
• all your goals suddenly become secondary because you can’t even shower or eat properly;
• overall you feel very disconnected from yourself and have no idea what to do or how to cope.

From my experience, freeze is the most complex and confusing trauma response. The other responses are easy to identify: when you’re in fight mode, your body is anxious, and ready to react and protect yourself. On the other hand, you can freeze for weeks and not even know it.

The first time I realized I was frozen was a few months ago.

Suddenly, I went through a period of complete apathy. I had no energy and all I wanted to do was compulsively distract myself. Then, I realized it was not the first time I was going through this — and I also realized it all started when I had to deal with a family situation that made me feel completely powerless.

Fortunately, I have an amazing therapist that has been helping me process everything.

Being stuck in a freeze can feel like being trapped under a magic spell. You feel disconnected from yourself and have no idea of what to do to repair that connection.

Becoming aware of the fact that you’re freezing is 90% of the healing process. It allows you to see your behavioral patterns as a coping mechanism rather than judging yourself for being “lazy” and “unmotivated.”

There’s no quick fix. The best thing you can do is take small steps every day to regulate your nervous system. And, if you can afford it, work with a well-trained therapist to better understand your trauma.

As always, the devil was in the detail.

Carl Jung had an insatiable desire to understand life and his unique position in it all.

But after many years, he concluded: “Only the paradox comes anywhere near to comprehending the fullness of life.”

That paradox, according to many other spiritual teachers, is a process of looking inside as much as it involves looking outside.

It’s this combination that seems to make life whole and there have been few people who have embraced the totality of life more than Carl Jung.

So how did the “Godfather of Psychology” find the meaning of life?

As any good psychologist will confess, the devil was in detail. And Carl Jung spent decades peeling away the layers of his subconscious mind to seek the truth of existence.

“As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being” — Carl Jung

What did Carl Jung mean by in the darkness of mere being?

For me, it’s twofold.

There’s the physical side of life, the part that involves getting old. The part that involves our teeth decaying, our joints calcifying, our hair greying, our eyes blurring, our muscles aching, and our slow and steady movement toward death.

Then there’s the troubled human psyche that contains all kinds of negative thoughts — jealousy, fear, sadness, shame, regret, guilt, greed, hate, selfishness, and more.

This is the darkness of mere being that I believe Carl Jung was getting at and unless we actively choose a different approach “it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” (Carl Jung)

So, how to kindle a light in the face of all this adversity?

Well, that brings me back to looking within.

Before I ever meditated or practiced breathwork I used to live in a world where I felt separate from others, where I measured, compared, and competed against others. Ultimately, this caused me to judge myself and others more and I often found myself walking around with lots of the negative emotions I mentioned above.

When I did my first breathwork session, however, my physical body dissolved yet “I” remained.

This not only broke down the idea of separation, but it also changed my beliefs around death. The “I” that remained was a universal I, one that contained all beings and had no start or end point.

In the months that followed, I had to consistently ask myself these two questions:

• How can I compete when there’s no one to compete with?

And:

• How can I die when my soul is eternal?

It was the first time in my life when I had experienced that everything in life was happening now, expressing itself through a billion different eyes in a billion different moments simultaneously. I was just one of those pairs of eyes witnessing life from my own unique perspective.

“You are not a drop in the ocean, you are the ocean in a drop” — Rumi.

That doesn’t take away the aches, pains, and woes of being human, it just helps me become less attached to my physical body and mental emotions. This makes things less terminal and more transient and ultimately, creates less suffering.

This is one of the gifts of Carl Jung’s work because he highlighted this point repeatedly while reminding me that I am, like you, a vital part of this physical world but that I/we are also a part of something much bigger and more beautiful.

That’s why I continue to breathe every day as it reminds me of this truth.

This is how Carl Jung found the meaning of life many other people missed and luckily for us, he was willing to share his wisdom with the world.

“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” — Carl Jung

How to make the darkness conscious?

This is an extremely personal question and luckily, there is no right or wrong answer.

If you choose to live your life in the beauty of the outside world, there will be a million and one adventures to go on. If you decide to go within, on the other hand, there will be a whole cosmos to explore.

My own personal preference is to dance somewhere in the middle. To sit in meditation and go on a road trip. To breathe a kaleidoscopic universe to life through my daily breathwork practice and keep my eyes wide open to the beauty all around me.

Another powerful way is the practice of 50/50. This practice works on the principle that both our internal experience and our external environment are of equal importance because both combine to make up the life that we know and love.

My external environment might be a conversation I’m having with a friend or a task I’m completing at work. My internal experience might be observing an emotion, sensation, or thought that’s arising in my body. Whatever it might be, the goal is to keep 50% of my awareness on both worlds simultaneously.

Try it for yourself and see how you go.

If 50/50 feels too much, try 70/30 instead or 80/20. Even 90/10 works. If some of your awareness remains on both worlds simultaneously, the percentage split doesn’t really matter.

So, as with all things in life, find your way, connect to your truth, and honor your needs. Because…“The privilege of a lifetime is to be who you truly are” — Carl Jung