After another night of lousy sleep, he was grumpy. Who could blame him? Grumpy is not his usual state. He’s more of a feet-hit-the-floor-I’m-glad-to-be-alive kind of guy, so watching him drink his coffee, eyes downcast, and his general harumph-ness wasn’t the usual start to our day. Normally, I would try to help him snap out of it. Offer some encouraging words to help him look on the bright-ish side, or probe a little deeper.
This time, I didn’t do any of that. Didn’t try to fix, cajole, or process. Just sat there, drank my coffee, and quietly let him be. Let him feel whatever he was feeling until he didn’t need to feel it anymore.
On our hike that morning, those lousy feelings of his were about gone.
“I can usually work my way out of them.” he said.
“Or” I said, “maybe it’s that you let them work their way out of you.”
I think that is how it is supposed to work with feelings. Let them make themselves at home, and more often than not, they’ll quietly show themselves out when they’re ready.
