Practices

Every feeling comes with something it wants you to do. Catching the move before you make it is most of the skill.

Anger wants to push, fear wants to get out of the room, sadness wants to curl up, shame wants to disappear. None of that is wrong, and the trouble is…

You do not need a long list of feeling words. Half a dozen you can actually reach for under pressure will do more than forty you have to look up.

Angry, sad, afraid, ashamed, surprised, glad is enough to start with, and most hard moments are some mixture of the first four. The aim is not to…

If someone is saying so much that you have lost the thread, stop them kindly and check. Sorry, that is a lot and it matters, can I say back what I have got so far.

It feels rude and it is usually received as the opposite, because it says the words were worth keeping. Listening while quietly drowning helps…

Point at the body. 'Your hands went up just then', or 'you put your head in your hands', gives a feeling something solid to stand on.

Feelings argued about in the abstract go round and round. A gesture you both just watched is much harder to dispute, and it opens a door: what was…

When someone goes quiet and you can see they have gone inside, that is not your moment to help. Stay still and let the silence run.

You will feel the pull to summarise, to check they are alright, to bring the other person back in. All of it lands as an interruption. Give it a few…

You cannot ask for something you cannot feel the want of. Before working out how to say it, spend a minute finding what you actually need.

This is why advice to communicate better so often goes nowhere. The words come out tidy and land as nothing, because there was no felt need inside…

Ask what the feeling is trying to do for you. Anger clears an obstacle, fear gets you out, sadness calls for comfort, shame hides you from being seen.

Once a feeling has a job it stops being a defect you have to apologise for. That matters, because the ones we treat as shameful are precisely the…

There is a kind of anger that floods a room and a kind that arrives with a request inside it. The second one gets answered.

The difference is audible before it is anything else: the voice steadier, the sentence shorter, an actual ask at the end of it. I am angry, and what…

Nobody ever came for help because they were too happy. What arrives as irritation or flatness on the surface is usually fear, grief or shame underneath.

So when someone snaps at you, or when you go cold and clipped yourself, treat that as the top layer rather than the whole story. The useful question…

Say the frightened thing rather than the sharp thing. It is far more exposing and it is the only version that tends to get a kind reply.

Under most rows sits something like I think there is something wrong with me, or I have already lost you and I am pretending I have not. Sharp words…

Go back to the second before you reacted. Not the argument, not the history, just that one second and what crossed you in it.

Most people have to genuinely search for the answer, and the searching is where the work happens rather than in whatever they eventually say.…

Often nothing is buried. The pieces are all there, they have simply never been put next to each other.

This hurts but I do not know why usually means the event, the feeling in the body and the meaning are being held separately. So join them up out…

If the size of the feeling does not match the size of what just happened, it is probably carrying something older into the room.

Feeling has no real sense of when. An old injury arrives in the present body with all its original force, which is why a small remark can flatten…

Going numb is a good way to survive something and a poor way to live near someone. It shuts the line in both directions at once.

When you cannot feel your own signal you also stop picking up theirs, so the room goes quiet even when they are reaching for you. The loneliness that…

When someone pours out a lot at once, catch the two or three words carrying the weight and give those back to them, in order.

You said you felt cold in your own house, and like a nuisance. Nothing added, nothing solved. It sounds almost too simple, and it does the thing a…

Let what they say land in you before you answer. The word that catches somewhere in your own chest is usually the live one.

Cold. Empty. A nuisance. Take each one for a second rather than sailing past it to the reply. Then give back the one that carried the charge, and you…

I am used to it is not the same as I feel nothing. It usually means a great deal of practice at feeling nothing, and that practice costs something.

Believe the person when they say they are used to it, and hear what is inside the sentence: this has happened often enough that they have built…

When somebody says they just get on with it, take the getting on with it seriously. That is the door, and arguing with the nothing is a wall.

This happens a lot, I just roll with it, I forget about it: there is a whole strategy in that sentence and it is visible, unlike the feeling…

If all you can say is that you want to get away, that is already information. Nobody moves away from nothing, so somewhere in there is something that felt hard.

You do not need to know what it is yet. Hold the smaller version for a while: something here is difficult, and the pulling back is how I have been…

When someone finally gets one true word out about how they feel, resist explaining it to them. Ask what that word is like from the inside and let them find the rest.

The temptation is to say the clever thing: of course you felt rejected, anyone would. It is often accurate and it usually ends the moment, because…