Sitting with the Storm: A Gentle Guide to Processing Emotions
By Grace — The grandmother you always needed. Sourdough, wisdom, and zero judgment. ·
The Kitchen Table Test
It’s August here in Vermont, and the goldenrod is just starting to hint at the coming gold of autumn. The house is quiet today—the kind of quiet that lets you hear the floorboards settle and the wind chimes dancing on the porch. I spent the morning kneading a batch of sourdough. There’s something about the way the dough resists, then yields, then stretches under your palms that reminds me of how we handle our own hearts.
We spend so much of our lives trying to outrun our feelings. When I was teaching second grade, I saw it in the children all the time: a scraped knee or a hurt feeling was often met with a frantic attempt to 'just stop crying' so we could get back to the lesson. As adults, we’re not much different. We bury our grief in a busy calendar or tuck our anxieties into the crevices of a screen. But feelings, much like the starter in my crock, have a life of their own. If you don't feed them, they go dormant; if you ignore them, they eventually bubble over and make a mess of the pantry.
Why We Run (And Why We Should Stop)
After Tom passed, I learned that grief isn't a straight line. It’s a tide. Some days it’s out, and I can walk the shoreline of my life with clear eyes. Other days, it’s crashing against the windows, and the only thing to do is make a pot of tea and wait.
Processing emotions isn't about 'fixing' them. It isn't about turning a frown upside down or finding the silver lining before the storm has even passed. Processing is simply the act of giving an emotion a seat at the table. You don't have to like the guest, and you certainly don't have to agree with them, but you do have to acknowledge they’ve arrived. When we shove our feelings into the shadows, they become monsters. When we turn on the light and say, 'I see you, fear,' or 'I see you, loneliness,' they tend to shrink down to their actual size.
The Three-Step Process of Sitting Still
I’m a retired teacher, so I’m fond of a good, simple structure. When life feels overwhelming, I use this little exercise. You don't need a fancy meditation app or a yoga mat. You just need five minutes and a place to sit.
1. Name the Guest We often describe our emotions as vague physical sensations—a knot in the stomach, a tightness in the chest. Get specific. Is it anger? Is it disappointment? Is it the 'empty nest' ache? Giving an emotion a name is like giving it a label on a jam jar. It makes the contents manageable.
2. Locate the Physical Anchor Where are you holding this feeling? Are your shoulders creeping up toward your ears? Is your jaw clenched? Close your eyes, breathe, and send your attention to that spot. Don't try to release it yet. Just observe. Imagine you’re a teacher watching a student struggle with a math problem—with curiosity, not judgment. 'Oh, look at that. My chest is tight today. That makes sense.'
3. Offer a Kind Witness This is the hardest part for most of us. We are so quick to judge ourselves for feeling 'too much' or 'not enough.' Instead, offer yourself the same grace you’d offer a grandchild who just dropped their ice cream cone. Say to yourself, either out loud or in your mind, 'It is okay to feel this. This is part of being human.'
Making Room for the Messy Bits
Processing emotions is a messy, non-linear business. Some days, you’ll be doing great, and then you’ll see a man in the grocery store wearing a coat like the one Tom used to wear, and suddenly, you’re undone in the frozen peas aisle. That isn't a failure. That is just being alive.
I find that manual tasks help keep me grounded when the emotional waves are high. Gardening, washing dishes by hand, or folding laundry—these are 'rhythmic' tasks. They remind the body that life continues. When you’re in the thick of a big feeling, don't try to solve it with your brain. Move your hands. Let the emotion work itself through your muscles while you focus on the simple act of scrubbing a plate or pulling a weed.
The Gift of Emotional Literacy
We teach children their ABCs, but we don't always teach them how to handle the 'XYZs' of the human heart. It is never too late to learn. By sitting with your emotions, you aren't just helping yourself; you’re teaching the people around you—your children, your friends, your neighbors—that it is safe to be real.
There is such a profound, quiet strength in being able to say, 'I am hurting right now, and that is okay.' It’s the kind of strength that doesn't need to shout. It’s the strength of an old farmhouse that has weathered a hundred winters and is still standing, warm and solid, at the end of the lane.
Take it slow today, won't you? The world will still be spinning if you take an extra ten minutes to just sit and breathe. I’m sitting here with my tea, and I’m sending you a little extra patience for whatever you’re carrying today.
How are you holding up this week? Is there a particular feeling you’ve been trying to outrun? Pull up a chair—I’m listening.