I sobbed into a stuffed turtle

After I drafted last week’s email about my conversation with Amanda, I still felt kind of off.

Apparently realizing you made a mistake is not always enough to make you feel better.

I had noticed the feeling.

I had named it.

I had written about carrying one hard meeting into the next.

And still...

there it was.

Later, I read the draft to Tom, like I always do before I send these weekly emails.

I get choked up most times I read them.

But this was different.

I sobbed.

Big, snotty, gut-wrenching sobs.

Tom handed me my stuffed turtle to hold onto.

He gave me that turtle as a gift, and Tom is weirdly talented at picking out the softest stuffed animals.

So I hugged it.

And the more I hugged it, the more I sobbed.

For five solid minutes.

And then...

there was nothing left.

I blew my nose.

Looked around.

And for the first time, I understood what Amanda meant when she talked about releasing feelings.

I had thought I understood it before.

Of course we need to release our feelings.

That sounds lovely.

Very wise.

Very healthy.

But this was different.

This was my body finally letting go of something my brain had already tried to handle.

And it was powerful.

And exhausting.

After all that crying, I felt empty.

Not bad-empty.

Open-empty.

Like something had finally moved out and left space behind.

And I had a choice.

I could let whatever happened next fill that space.

Or I could be intentional about what I wanted to let in.

So I went into my backyard.

I walked slowly.

I looked closely.

Tiny pears on the pear tree.

Baby acorns on the little oak trees.

Quiet.

Alive.

Waiting for me to notice.

Slowly, that empty space started filling back up.

With peace.

Love.

Beauty.

I wonder how long all that yuck had been stuck in me.

Because it clearly wasn’t just one uncomfortable client conversation.

And after I finally let it out, everything felt different.

I felt lighter.

More calm.

Even Tom seemed nicer to me.

Which made me laugh later, because I’m pretty sure Tom had been the same Tom the whole time.

On Monday, I was excited to share the experience with my team.

I started our staff meeting by telling them I had an apology to make.

But first, I wanted to explain what I was learning.

I told them about Amanda’s lesson.

I told them that the week before, I had felt unappreciated by a client and carried that feeling into the rest of my day, including into conversations with them.

I told them about Samantha’s daughter’s nurse, who described dealing with scary emotions like riding a roller coaster: feel them fully on the way up, then release them on the way down.

I told them about the stuffed turtle, the crying, the backyard, and the tiny pears.

And I asked them to forgive me for not being the person I wanted to be.

Was that fun?

Nope.

But it turned into one of my favorite staff meetings we’ve ever had.

Everyone shared how they reset when they get off course.

Nature.

Movement.

Being outside.

Engaging all our senses.

Looking at photos of our kids playing.

Then we ended staff early, hooked pinkies for a pinky swear on our cameras and agreed to spend the last few minutes of the meeting time doing something that would renew us.

But here’s the funny part.

The release happened on Sunday.

I talked about it with my team on Monday.

But I don’t think I really understood it until Wednesday.

I can be a slow learner sometimes . . .

Amanda had talked about releasing emotions.

Samantha’s daughter’s nurse had talked about releasing emotions.

I had talked about releasing emotions.

I had even experienced a huge release while sobbing into a stuffed turtle.

And still...

it took a few more days for the lesson to sink in.

We really do need to feel those feelings.

That’s the part I think I had been skipping.

I wanted to release them without actually feeling them first.

Which sounds wonderful . . .

But apparently that is not how this works.

Once the yucky stuff settles in, I don’t think I can fix it with a happy little Band-Aid.

I can’t just look at a flower and expect it to dissolve something I haven’t actually let myself feel.

Release is real.

But it is not tidy.

It is not convenient.

And at least for me, it might involve five minutes of sobbing into a stuffed turtle.

So I’d love to know...

When you’re feeling off, how do you know whether you need a reset...

or a release?

Let me know, I’m still learning!

With love,

Ariel