Did you spend the summer sweeping emotions and problems under your rug? Apparently, I did.

Sure, I have shared some of my fears about what I plan to do to make My Big Hairy Audacious Dream come true. But, I have also secretly congratulated myself on how much work I have done to transform the mountain under my rug into a tiny mole hill…or so I thought.

On Tuesday, I strolled into Dr K’s office and half expected her to give me a high five because I have learned to Let Go Of The Shore;  Acknowledge My Fears; and Listen to the Hell Yes in my gut. Then, I remembered I was the one who called my psychologist because my old friend, anxiety, had returned. Dr. K has often told me that “anxiety is suppressed emotion”, so I knew the time had come to make an appointment.

We skipped right over the pleasantries in order to make the most of our hour together. But, even if I had tried to chat about the weather, she still would have quickly brought out the snivelling, snotty-nosed, four year old inside of me. You see, Dr. K has always had a knack for excavating through my protective layers and forcing me to stare down whatever emotions I have tried to rationalize my way out of feeling.

Later, I trudged home feeling both wrung out and enlightened, just like I had during one of our first sessions together, post diagnosis, back in December 2009. Here’s an excerpt about that day from my post, The Mountain Under My Rug:

Dr. K persists, “Terri, what are you feeling in your body when you talk about going back to work?”

“What do you mean?” I ask. Typically, if someone asks me how I feel, I insert phrases like, “I feel sad” or “I feel angry”. I don’t equate those thoughts with corresponding physical reactions.

I stare at piece of white lint on the brown carpet and try to gauge what response she is looking for.  (Yes, I am one of those people whose deluded perfectionist tendencies include wanting my therapist to think I’m perfect.)

I finally answer, “I feel like my chest is in a vice and I am going to throw up.”

But, I don’t want to concentrate on those feelings, so I accelerate onto my next few thoughts. “But, I have to go back. My consultants need me. My boss depends on me. It’s already been two weeks since surgery. I thought I would only be off work for 3 days.” I don’t tell her I need to go back to work so I can escape from all of the scary thoughts bombarding me.

“Let’s slow down,” she says. “Are you sure you’re ready? A cancer diagnosis is one of the most traumatic events that can happen in a person’s lifetime. You need to accept that life, as you knew it, no longer exists.”

My eyelashes flutter and the silence in the room presses up hard against me.

Right. I can’t fix this, overachieve past it, or pretend it’s not happening. I have to actually allow myself to feel it? What if I don’t want to?

Dr. K seems to read my mind and warns me if I don’t give myself time to express my emotions, I will face bigger problems. She knows of other patients who have struggled with depression and anxiety, years after recovering from cancer, because they used my long honed skill of creating small mountains under their rugs.

I look up at her, my face lit with questions. Process my emotions? What the hell does she mean? Before I can fantasize about a world where I actually give myself enough time and space to feel my feelings, the hour has passed. 

Although Dr. K and I have spent many productive hours together since our initial session, I had not seen her since before I went to Africa. Our session this week reminded me that none of us are ever “done” when it comes to working on ourselves.

Now, I remember how easy it is to get caught up in the busyness of life and ignore my bottled up emotions. Maybe for you, these feelings include sadness over a broken heart; fear of not being in the right job; or worry that you’ll never measure up to the impossibly high standards you have set for yourself.

Unfortunately, we live in a society where we congratulate ourselves for staying busy all of the time. I remember in my pre-cancer days, I rarely had five minutes to myself and I held my busyness up like a badge of honour. The busier I kept myself, the easier it was to toss my feelings under the rug until one day I would explode all over someone – usually an unsuspecting boyfriend – who had done nothing to deserve my suppressed rage.

Now, as soon as the first tight-chested pangs of anxiety hit, I know I need to carve out some space in my schedule for a little “fall cleaning”.

So I am flipping up the rug, grabbing my wheelbarrow, and with the help of Dr. K, digging through my emotions until I am back to my manageable little mole hill.

What about you? Has the time come for you to peek under your rug and see what’s piled up? Maybe you could start by taking an hour for yourself this weekend and just seeing what comes up. Or, maybe it’s time for you to find a Dr. K in your life? I promise you won’t regret it. I love this post from a wise-beyond-her-years, 22 year old: Why Everyone Should Have A Psychologist.