Stagnation and Flow: A Practical Guide to Processing Emotions
By Mae — Herbalist. Healer. Your grandmother's remedies, backed by a nurse's knowledge. ·
The Internal Current
It’s November in Portland. The rain is relentless, the days are growing thin, and the light is shifting into that grey, melancholic tone that usually sends my patients—and sometimes myself—into a reflective tailspin.
In my years at OHSU, I saw the physical toll of “bottling it up.” I’ve seen ulcers, hypertension, and tension headaches that were really just unexpressed grief or anger wearing a costume. In Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), we talk about Qi—the life force—and how it must flow to maintain health. When we experience big, messy, or difficult emotions and refuse to process them, that energy stagnates. Think of it like a clogged drain in a house; eventually, the water backs up, the pipes burst, and you have a mess on your hands that requires much more than a plunger to fix.
Processing emotions isn't a luxury; it’s a physiological necessity. It’s the difference between a body that hums along and one that’s constantly fighting an internal fire.
The Anatomy of a Feeling
When a wave of emotion hits—say, that sharp sting of resentment or the heavy blanket of sorrow—your sympathetic nervous system kicks into gear. Cortisol spikes, your heart rate shifts, and your prefrontal cortex (the part of you that makes rational decisions) goes a little offline.
I often tell my students: don’t try to “think” your way out of a feeling. You cannot logic your way through a physiological event. Instead, you need to acknowledge the sensation in the body before you try to label the emotion in the mind.
Step One: The Physical Anchor
Before you write in a journal or talk to a therapist, you must signal safety to your nervous system. When I feel the early signs of emotional stagnation—usually a tightness in the solar plexus or a shallow, upper-chest breath—I stop. I don’t try to fix the problem yet. I practice a modified Qigong movement: the “Rising and Falling” breath.
Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. As you inhale, imagine drawing cool, damp energy up from the earth through the soles of your feet. As you exhale, let your hands move downward, pressing that stagnant energy down and out through your palms. Do this for three minutes. You aren't “getting rid” of the emotion; you are creating enough physical space for it to exist without overwhelming your nervous system.
Step Two: Herbal Allies for Release
In my practice, I often turn to herbs that support the Liver meridian, which, in TCM, is responsible for the smooth flow of Qi. When the Liver is stagnant, we get irritable and “stuck.”
For those long, dark afternoons, I lean on Chrysanthemum and Goji berry tea. It’s cooling and helps clear the “heat” that rises when we are frustrated. If you’re feeling more depleted than frustrated—that heavy, weary kind of sadness—a gentle decoction of Astragalus root can help bolster your defensive Qi, giving you the strength to face the emotions you’ve been avoiding.
Note: Always check with your primary care provider if you are on medications, as herbs are potent medicine. I’ve spent enough time in the ER to know that “natural” doesn’t mean “without side effects.”
Step Three: The Verbal Release
After you’ve moved your body and supported your system with a bit of herbal nourishment, it is finally time to give the emotion a name. But here is the secret: don’t write for an audience. Don’t write for your future self. Write to release.
I keep a “Burn Journal.” It’s a cheap notebook. I write down exactly what I am feeling—the ugly parts, the petty parts, the parts I wouldn't tell a soul. Then, I tear the page out and put it in my wood stove. Watching the ink turn to ash is a powerful ritual. It’s a physical manifestation of the transition from stagnation to transformation.
The Tao of Letting Be
My parents taught me that life is like the Pearl River; it’s always moving, always changing. If you try to grab the water, you just get wet. If you stand in the middle of the river and refuse to move, you’ll be knocked over. The goal is to be the reed, not the rock.
Processing emotions is just the act of letting the current move through you. It’s not about becoming “happy” or “positive.” It’s about being clear. When you clear the internal clutter, you leave room for the joy that’s actually waiting for you, underneath all that noise.
How are you holding your tension today? Are your shoulders up by your ears? Is your jaw tight? Take a breath, pour a cup of tea, and let’s talk about it. Leave a comment below—I’d love to hear what rituals have been keeping you afloat this November.