over-feeling & never leaving well enough alone

"You're overthinking it." I've been told this, and have told this, countless times over. 

You have too. 

But you know what I've never, ever heard said to me? "You're over-feeling it." 

And why not?

If we can overthink, we can over-feel. Seems to make sense.

What's overthinking? 

My take: it's when we analyze a thought, relentlessly. We do this a point where it disrupts much of our day, and a disproportionate amount of life. It derails other thoughts. It overrides other stuff we want to also ponder. It stays excessively heightened in our mind's eye.

BUT here's the thing: our thoughts aren't always right. Actually, we're wrong about as often as we're right. So therefore, not every thought we have is well-thought-out.

So what's over-feeling? 

My take: It's when we analyze our feeling(s), relentlessly. We do this to a point where it disrupts much of our day, and a disproportionate amount of life. It derails other feelings. We're somehow unable, in the moment, to discern if the feeling's valid. It overrides other feelings we want to properly feel. It stays excessively heightened in our heart and mind.

BUT here's the thing: our feelings are sometimes mistaken. Actually, our feelings can be off-base as much as true. So not every feeling we have is sensibly felt.

"In my defense I have none, for never leaving well enough alone..." -T.S. (The 1)

How do we stop over-feeling?

Whoa, whoa whoa.

First, let's check expectations. 

Trying to abruptly *stop* over-feeling will likely end in failure. Might as well try to stop feeling a breeze when you're outside and it's windy. Nor can we expect to always *control* our over-feeling tendencies.

I picture it like this: I have this plate of food sitting in front of me. The only item on the plate is a food called 'over-feeling.' It tastes like plain oatmeal, which is not everyone's favorite. And somehow, I can't take it off the plate (so that option is out), nor can I push the plate off the table (that option's also out). One way or another, I've gotta eat this mush. 

So what to do?

What I can do is I can try to interrupt, to interfere with that over-feeling taste, so that it's not the only taste on the plate. I put something else on the plate with it. I can add salt. Or ketchup, or brown sugar, or butter, or popcorn, or ranch dressing, or milk, or anything. 

The point is not that it tastes great. The point is that the taste of over-feeling gets disrupted. There's no law that says 'over-feeling' gets to overwhelm us all by itself. Adding ketchup radically disrupts the taste. My goal is to add to and crowd my over-feeling, to disrupt the taste. 

This concept takes center stage in the book The Giver.

Jonas finds living with memories amidst the Sameness landscape undesirable. But he can't rid himself of the burden. So what does he do? Jonas flees to some Elsewhere so that the burden of memory isn't all he has with him.*

Make the over-feeling work for it.

Also: it's reasonable to need help when we face our over-feeling tendencies. It takes time to learn new ways. Praying to God helps. The counsel and/or silent presence of wise, loving friends can also do much good. These are some options to add to the plate, to crowd the over-feeling.

The presence of feelings is not the problem. It's the over- part of feeling (and thinking) that we can learn to spar with, to check, to push back against, and to test. Over-feeling won't go away, and won't always be controlled. But that doesn't mean there's nothing we can do.

(*If you're a reader of the Narnia book series, Puddleglum the Marsh-wiggle does this in The Silver Chair. 

He can't put the enchanted-smelly fire out, so he grinds his bare foot into flames. The smell of Puddleglum's burnt foot irrevocably disrupts the enchantment.)

the blessed annoyance of unlearning

"Come snow skiing with us," they said. "It'll be a fun day," they said.

Nope.

That was not a fun day.

I didn't have coordination trouble. Nor did I have problems getting onto the ski lifts. I also figured out how to stop (ie just fall down). 

No, my trouble was deeper. I had to unlearn. 

The stingiest hurdle for me that day was my skiing experiences ... but not snow skiing. Water skiing.

They're both skiing. This is true. And they are similar enough for me to believe my water skiing experience would help. But ... it actually did not help. It hindered. It wasn't just learning how to snow ski -- I also had to unlearn and work against my water skiing habits and reflexes. Unlearning took effort.

This memory comes to my mind now and then, especially in the wintertime. 

At times, I tend to believe that improvement in life -- growing in my faith, or changing how I relate to others, or more regularly giving thanks -- can be achieved by acquiring more knowledge, by growing in wisdom and skill.

But that's only part of it. 

We also gotta unlearn. Sometimes, we gotta unlearn more than we would want. 

Un-learning. 

Unlearning habits that no longer work. 

Unlearning coping strategies.

Unlearning unwise ways to relate. 

Unlearning our sneaky pride.* 

[*Specifically, unlearning a pride that convinces us that we know what's best for ourselves, and unless we get exactly what we think should happen, everything all ruined. That's a sneaky kind of pride that feeds anxiety, when we assume we know the best ways that everything should happen and work out.]

Unlearning lies we came to believe were truth. 

Unlearning behaviors. 

It's a continual shedding of those barnacles that cling to us.

“We all want progress. But progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong turning then to go forward does not get you any nearer. If you are on the wrong road progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road ... Going back is the quickest way on.” -CS Lewis

Unlearning can 'feel' like you're losing ground. It can 'feel' like you're falling behind. It can stink to realize that you have anything to unlearn. 

It's rarely 'feels' efficient to unlearn. But we all have stuff to unlearn. Small stuff. Bigger stuff. Welcome to the party.

It's wise to figure out where you took a wrong turn. We all make wrong turns, sometimes even for (at the time were) understandable reasons. Sometimes we took a wrong turn because we were trying the best we could, with the knowledge we had to work with at the time. 

Make the turn. Do the unlearn.

Let's go see if we can pick the original path back up, to run the race as it's marked out for us.

"let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." -Hebrews 12:1-2