The Only Way Out Is Through: On Naming Emotions and Trying Again at Boundaries
by Sarah Steele
The Only Way Out Is Through:
On Naming Emotions and Trying Again at Boundaries
by Sarah Steele
I.
Not too long ago, as we wrapped up a season of commitments, my husband and I reflected on what worked and what didn’t, what refreshed and fulfilled us and what was burdensome. We had served a community we deeply loved for almost six beautiful, fellowship-building years. But a shift had taken place in my heart, new needs with our growing children were presenting themselves, and though we valued the work we were doing, we decided it would be wise to take a break.
Then, just a few short months into our “break,” a new opportunity appeared—all shimmery shiny—sparkling just over the horizon, and I felt the zing of the new and improved and the warm blush of somebody needs me, and before we knew it, we were committed again.
Whoops.
I was frustrated with myself. I, who proclaim healthy boundaries! and live within your limits! to the world, had stepped outside my own. I guess even writing a book on the subject does not keep one from being susceptible to error.
In another circumstance, I stood my ground a little stronger before bowing to the desire of the other. Sometimes compromise is called for, I reminded myself. Sometimes you have to give more of yourself than you first think–for the sake of the Kingdom. But then I gave so much that I lost a part of myself I’d worked desperately to grow.
Oof.
I chose not to confront the other party in that moment (it really was a me issue) but instead to learn—I really do need to trust the Holy Spirit in me.
When I am uncomfortable with a situation, I have long practiced pushing that feeling to the side. But if boundaries are foremost about what I am willing to do, and I disregard my own will in the matter, then a feeling will often come and gently tap me on the shoulder, saying, Um, excuse me, do I belong here? Do I have a voice? Because I’m not comfortable right now.
Months after these fresh boundary compromises, I found myself in the position of passively wishing for someone to do something I felt they were responsible for doing, but I couldn’t order them to do. It was something that would utterly disappoint me if they didn’t, but I also knew I couldn’t handle the rejection if I outright asked, and they outright said, “No.”
I’m sure no one else in the history of the world has lived through this, so I’ll try to expound: I dropped hints, sent reminders, even prayed, convincing myself that of course this person would do what is right. They did not. I stepped into the chilled air of that dismal day and actually screamed, tears freezing on their way down my cheeks.
Do I recommend this course of action? It’s debatable. But I knew that I needed to acknowledge that this pain searing my heart in that moment was a real loss. And I have learned the hard way what happens when I suppress instead of grieve.
II.
When we suppress emotions, it is often because we don’t want the emotions to control us. But suppression functions to keep the negative emotions inside us—swirling through our guts, spiraling through our thoughts—until we are entirely consumed.
I have lived this, too.
In another season, I received word about a person who hurt me—that they were still hurting others—and I was wrecked. I thought about my response and decided this: I could. not. give. more. emotions. to. them. I would not! So, I deleted the email that carried the news and told myself I was better now, and they were in God’s hands anyway.
My body disagreed and revolted for the next eleven days.
My heart raced constantly—walking up the stairs became an Olympic feat that sent my heart rate to 185 bpm; darkness clouded my vision whenever I exerted mere kitchen-chore energy; I drank two gallons of water per day, never satisfying my thirst; and I woke up drenched in the middle of the night.
I finally approached our small group asking for prayer. “We’ll pray for you, Sarah, but please go to the doctor!” they pleaded. That seemed extreme to me, but I am nothing if not obedient.
The kind man who saw me offered a solution for my racing heart. He called it breathing, but since that is a medical term, I shall explain.
Apparently, when you breathe in slowly, hold your breath, breathe out slowly, and hold again, it helps to slow your heart. I did this, and I tell you magic could not have wielded more power over me.
His next step was to ask me to lower my shoulders. I thought this strange, but continuing with my good student persona, I acquiesced. My entire body loosened, and I slumped in the chair. What wizardry was this? I was cured! I declined the heart-calming medication he offered me and spent the next few weeks, well, breathing, unclenching, and also going to counseling.
It was in that counseling chair that I first understood that an emotion acknowledged is the surest way through that emotion. That an emotion embraced is like telling yourself it’s okay that you feel that way and I’m sorry this is hard. It’s like giving that part of yourself a seat at your table. Like saying, you, yes, even you, belong here. (Though, I might recommend a backless wooden bench kind of seat so it doesn’t get too comfy.)
Soon, I received a similar message about this person from my past, and again, I wanted to delete it—to prove it had no power over me. But inside I was shaking. So, I took my new knowledge, sat at the computer, and wept instead.
Five minutes later, I was done. The feeling had passed. I had not drowned. It was still hard, and it still had to be dealt with, but it no longer loomed over me—threatening to seize control.
Deep breath. In and out. You are okay.
III.
I am years past that moment, but it will be with me forever, teaching me that the only way out is through.
And so, after taking time to reflect on my life experiences above, I decided I needed to name the emotions I was feeling in the present—to trust the Holy Spirit in me and recognize his promptings in my heart.
I needed to do the scary thing of letting the other person know how I felt. I took the time that I needed (no room for Impulsive Irene here), and then I wrote a message that was clear and kind—one that I could stand behind and one that even my gentle, no-no-don’t-change-for-me husband could approve of. I hit send and waited twenty-four grueling hours. To pass the time, I re-read the email (I like to torture myself). But to my great shock, I didn’t want to change a word! It wasn’t overly aggressive, which would normally make me send a quick follow-up email saying it probably sounded like I was saying this, but really I meant that. And it wasn’t dismissive of my feelings with my usual I just wanted you to know this, but don’t worry, it’s no big deal, and really, just forget I even mentioned it.
In sending a message that was both honest and humble, I honored what I was feeling without forcing the other person to receive it in any particular way. This is the right step toward healthy boundaries.
God’s Word has a multitude of passages on truth-telling and what God thinks of a lying tongue. We tend to think, as recovering people-pleasers, that kindness and gentleness are more important than truth. But Paul tells us that “each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body” (Eph. 4:25).
We can never be honest with others if we are not even honest with ourselves about our own feelings, about our own limitations. The psalmist reminds us that “even perfection has its limits, but your commands have no limit” (Psalm 119:96). He’s referencing how God’s Word and his faithfulness know no bounds, while on this Earth, even the most perfect thing is limited. This is not a flaw in the design but rather a fundamental truth of life between the kingdoms. We have limits. So, we need boundaries. And God meets us even here, allowing us to delight with the psalmist as he declares that “the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance” (Psalm 16:6). Take delight? In our boundaries? I give you a resounding YES! God himself has set limits on our humanity, and they are good.
As this New Year has begun, ready or not, you will have fresh opportunities to listen to your inner spirit, to establish and abide by needed (and freeing) boundaries, and to remind yourself that the only way out is through.
So, here’s to us, my friends:
Here’s to living with healthy(er) boundaries
and serving within our limitations.
Here’s to acknowledging what feels hard—
and recognizing when we are not okay with something.
Here’s to learning and growing and changing (thanks be to God)
and having grace with ourselves.
Here’s to naming our emotions,
and, oh yes, here’s to breathing all the while.
Sarah Steele
Sarah Steele is a spoken word performer with a knack for turning emotions into performances that make you laugh, cry, or question your life choices. Her poetry memoir, An Ocean Without, became an Amazon #1 Top New Release, proving she can turn complex ideas into relatable experiences—and, occasionally, into impulse buys. Sarah has written for many publications and serves as an editor for The Way Back to Ourselves. When she’s not writing or performing, she can be found wielding her teacher’s hat over students of all ages—including her four spirited redheads, who ensure her life in Michigan is anything but boring.