Noticing Chaos without Ignoring Life

“1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 and 1-2-3-4…” the counts repeated over and over again. It was soothing to my mind, an escape from life. Steady, stable, consistent, reliable. The cold eight counts were like a warm blanket to my body as I moved through space in predicted well-known patterns. “Keep lifting up, up, up but stay rooted. Spiral your leg muscles down, down, down. Engage those muscles as if you’ve got to pee like a racehorse!” Ok, so dance isn’t always as pretty and polished as the public might imagine.

Here’s the deal, I wasn’t ever very capable in sports. I had a short stint playing softball in middle school as a favor to my best friend. They needed one more girl. I remember being afraid every time I walked up to bat, or “played” outfield waiting for a ball to come flying at me. Then there was the year of middle school track, where the coach thought I’d be a great addition to the team; I may have been awkward but all legs. He quickly taught me high jump because I refused to run…at track practice! I didn’t want to sweat too much.

However, I could dance. I had finally found a movement that fit my body. At the time, that’s all it was. A series of patterns worth sweating over because it felt like home for my muscles and brain.

It wasn’t until years later in college I began to feel a difference when dancing. I’d walk into the studio and the eight counts still drove my movement. Yet, there were moments of life and breath filling my body. I suddenly felt relief, lighter.

Why? What were these mystical moments of life and breath? Why did I feel them now and not when I was younger?

Mike Foster, the host of the Fun Therapy podcast, once said, “The body is like the ignored middle child.”

As a middle child, I remember small moments of feeling ignored. Let me state loud and clear, my parents are amazing! Some of the best! However, like any middle child, I recognize my parents’ natural limits. They worried about doing enough for my older brother while simultaneously worrying about keeping my younger brother alive. Then there was quiet, compliant curly headed me. I never caused much trouble. I like to think I lightened their load of worry just a little. I wasn’t neglected by any means. At times, I may have felt overlooked, unheard, or whisked to the side like flyaway hairs. It wasn’t until I found my voice – which I still feel like I’m learning to do in my thirties – that I felt seen, heard, and present.

I’m beginning to learn how true this is for my body too. How long I lived simply pushing back the whispers of my body as I grew up. I didn’t know my physical body was trying to tell me more about myself. I didn’t know how powerful my body could be when it came to helping me deal with my emotions and the mind-games spinning in my head. There was a disconnect between my mind, body, and emotions.

When I finally started dancing I became more aware of my body. I began to realize what type of movement suited me and energized me. I learned how to move with more confidence and not feel so out of place or awkward. I was more aware of my body but I was not fully awake.

My body, still a passive presence in life.

I listened to my mind the most. I was a logic-based teenager – I know that seems like an oxymoron. I was motivated by what made sense, right and wrong. I stuck to some pretty black and white areas as a teen. I wasn’t driven by a lot of emotion. I was driven more by discipline and perfection. I didn’t have time to listen to my body. Who has time for that when you’re trying to be perfect? Plus, my emotions? Forget it! Those were stuffed way down at the bottom of the barrel.

I realized much later in life that listening to my body helped me listen more to my emotions. For so long I had neutralized my emotions, much like I had neutralized my body. I zoned out. I did things out of pattern and habit. I stuffed my emotions to feel in control. I didn’t want chaos or uncertainty. I didn’t want to move into unfamiliar patterns. It felt safer to keep doing what I had always been doing: ignoring.

I spent hours sharpening my mind each day because I was somewhat good at that. A natural learner, a student who wanted perfection. I read almost everything teachers put in front of me. I wrote every paper myself. I struggled through hard math assignments. Tears accompanied these hours of learning but it felt good for my mind to grow and be challenged.

I finally started to realize a freeing truth in my late twenties, and now in my early thirties. If I’m going to feel like I’m fully living I have to accept not feeling in control. I have to actually embrace feeling my feelings. I can’t let my perfection loving mind numb me to the other parts of my whole person.

Chaos is bound to happen in this life; it’s ok to feel the chaos.

Pain is bound to overcome me at some point; it’s ok to feel the pain.

Joy – praise the Lord – is bound to shine through the darkness; it’s ok to feel the joy.

What helped me feel? Not ignoring my body. I know it sounds odd. This mind-body connection often sounded too mystical and nebulous for me to wrap my head around.

One day, sitting in counseling my therapist asked me to close my eyes as I spoke about an event that dismantled me emotionally. This event with this specific person had sent me into a pattern of panic attacks each week. It was becoming such a pattern that it was preventing me from showing up places, from showing up to life. As I spoke I could feel my body shifting and changing.

My counselor let me talk. I came to a point where the words choked in my throat. I couldn’t get them out. I wasn’t crying. These words weren’t choked back by sadness; they were words of anger. Bitterness. Hurt. Rage. Feelings I had always ignored because they left me feeling out of control and chaotic. I had avoided these feelings all my life.

When I came to this speechless point my counselor gave me a few seconds to sit in the chaos. She asked me the most simple question, “What do you notice in your body now?” I took a deep breath and swallowed the words I couldn’t get out. Instead, I started listing what I was physically feeling.

“My chest burns like there’s a fire just under my heart.”

“Blood is rushing to my head. The heat from the fire in my chest is climbing to my ears.”

“My hands…My hands are clenched in fists…I never do that. My arm muscles are tense.”

“I can feel a pit of darkness like a bowling ball sitting on my stomach. I can’t move this darkness. Why can I not move this darkness?”

“…Now…my breath is…catching…why…can I…not…breathe?”

When I allowed my logic-loving mind to slow down long enough to notice the tangible concrete feelings in my physical body it awakened a new awareness to my emotions. Mind, body, emotions. They’re all connected together.

Suddenly, when my mind stopped ignoring my body, I stopped ignoring my emotions. I embraced physically that something needed to be dealt with emotionally, which freed me to think through it mentally.

This one shift caused more instability for me. I’m not always the level-headed person I once was. I’m not always put together and strong like I use to be. I’m not always the clear-minded person who can juggle everything.

The girl who never cried, cries. The girl who had all the answers forgets things and double books her schedule. The girl who was never good at sports, she sweats more, runs faster, and attempts more chaturanga push-ups than she ever thought possible.

That girl is me. I’m more in tune with my limitations mentally, physically, and emotionally. As a result, I am more awake to life. I am more awake to recognize my needs. I am more awake to laying these needs at the foot of the cross and trusting God when he says, “Just show up.”

At times life is more unstable but more in-tune. Life is more chaotic but sweeter. Life is more fierce but freer. How? I stopped ignoring the middle child. I stopped ignoring my body.

Take a minute to slow down and finish the sentence, “Notice that…”

What do you notice?

What has been ignored for so long? Has your mind been ignored for so long you forgot it has the ability to think and question difficult ideas you need to wrestle? Has your emotional capacity been ignored for so long you forgot you even have the ability to feel something good or bad? Has your body been ignored to the point where you can’t recognize the slight shift in your breathing, or tension in your muscles telling you something deeper?

The more daring question follows these observations. “What happens next?”

You decide.

Keep ignoring, or give yourself space to feel the newfound chaos.

Picture via Pixabay.com