“It feels like something bad is going to happen,” I told my mother before bed one night. I was around 5 or 6 when this anxiety started to creep in, but I found it difficult to put into words. Over time, I did understand that I was afraid, but it was many years before I learned the nuances of my feelings. Anxiety? Panic? Fear? Butterflies? It was not clear to me. Even today, sometimes I will turn my attention inward and be met with the image of a dense fog.
There is a word for this experience: alexithymia. As a former professor of Greek and Latin, I cannot resist doing the etymology.
ἀ = not
λέξις = word
θῡμός = from a related word for breath, associated with strong emotion
What is Alexithymia?
So, alexithymia refers to the experience of not having words for your feelings, or having trouble distinguishing between emotions. According to Dr. Megan Neff, alexithymia can also encompass difficulty distinguishing bodily sensations like hunger. Or, some may experience strong affective empathy (feeling others’ feelings) that they have trouble separating from their own. This can happen to a lot of people at times, but for those with alexithymia, it might start to interfere with your mental health, relationships or life.
Alexithymia can appear in many contexts. For me, this experience is related to the fact that I am autistic (though not all autistic folks experience it). And somewhat ironically, alexithymia was one of the things that stood in the way of my realization. How could I understand my sensory issues when I didn’t have insight into the emotions involved in overwhelm? How could I gauge my well-being when I didn’t know how I felt?
Read on for some of the resources and practices that helped me learn to recognize my feelings.
This is just my own experience. Autistic people and people with alexithymia can have very different relationships with emotions. The following may or may not be effective or available for you. When in doubt, consider consulting a therapist or trusted support person to find what works best for you.
Treating Anxiety and Panic
The most important initial step towards recognizing my feelings was to treat my existing anxiety and panic, which I had recognized from descriptions online and confirmed with a counselor. It was so helpful finally to see the physical feelings explained and then connect them to the emotions. Personally, I had heart palpitations, tingling sensations, and a tight feeling in my chest during anxiety and panic (which were not explained by any other health issue). And I couldn’t evaluate more nuanced feelings when they were being drowned out by the alarm bells of panic.
Everyone is unique in their mental health needs. I was fortunate over the years to try CBT, humanistic therapy, EMDR, and other approaches that served to bring down my anxiety levels over time. Eventually, I could work with myself through the physical aspects of panic and the attacks became rarer. While anxiety still flares up at times, it is no longer the dominant emotion or physical sensation, which creates space to consider other feelings.
Meditation
I began meditating as a first year in college in a weekly sitting led by a staff member. As much panic as I was dealing with, I never had an attack during any of these meditation sessions (though for some, meditation might increase panic under certain circumstances). The quiet companionship and the routine kept me calm.
At first, I found myself trying to control my thoughts during these sessions. I’d picture myself floating in space, free and unencumbered. It was blissful, until I’d notice a thought and push it away in frustration. From the guidance of our instructor, I learned instead to accept, notice, and release my thoughts.
At some point, I also learned the concept of becoming the observer. Instead of thinking about myself as my thoughts or emotions, I saw myself as the observer of them. What I did with the thoughts or feelings was my choice. The more I practiced, the better able I was to maintain this sense of observation in my daily life. It felt different than dissociation or suppression, to be clear. I was not detached or resistant, just curious and aware of my experience in a new way. This mindset gave me a stable base from which to dive into my emotions.
I continue to this day to facilitate meditation sessions at a local meditation center. In fact, I’ve just begun a meditation teacher certification with The Mindfulness Center.
The Language of Emotions
With relief from the intensity of my panic and a new self-awareness, I came across this book by Karla McLaren. McLaren takes an intuitive approach to working with emotions. Each major feeling has its own section in the book, along with a recommended practice for channeling it. Anger, for example, is a boundary-setting emotion to McLaren. It can tell us when someone or something has crossed a line. Sadness, on the other hand, helps us let go during loss or disappointment.
I had previously thought of my emotions as problems to be solved. If I was upset, then I needed to find out how to stop being upset as soon as possible. I didn’t understand that my emotions were deeply rooted in the past, present, and fears of the future. It wasn’t enough to try to numb or distract myself from strong feelings like panic. Rather, I had to understand their message. Throughout, McLaren also encourages the reader to seek out additional support beyond her book.
I now keep this book in my nightstand and turn to it whenever I’m feeling stuck. With the pause that meditation and mindfulness have provided me, I can take time to reflect. What is this feeling trying to tell me? What is stuck, lost, ignored, or in jeopardy? Over time, my feelings became easier to recognize. Grief, for example, appears primarily for me as a physical sensation of exhaustion and fatigue. I might think I’m getting sick, and then when I find a quiet moment, suddenly I am crying. Aha! I was sad.
Art Therapy
Another technique that I found success with for identifying complex emotions was art therapy. This happened at first in a group. We’d each spend time on our own project, then share. I quickly began trying this on my own. Some dollar store crayons and scrap paper were sufficient. I’d doodle whatever came to mind, with whatever colors appealed to me.
Once the artwork felt complete, I’d reflect on it. Somehow the feelings were easier to read when made into a tangible object. Some days I’d have harsh, intense lines of clashing colors (anger). Other days, softer, flowing shapes in cool colors (sadness).
It was incredibly helpful after years of journaling, which seemed to encourage my tendency to intellectualize. When it comes to feelings, I sometimes need to start without words, and find expression that’s more abstract.
Intuitive Tarot and Astrology
Tarot and astrology are important cultural and spiritual practices with a long history. And similar to art, tarot cards provided a way for me to react to something outside of myself to discover my own feelings. I downloaded a free app that allowed you to shuffle digital cards and click each one for a reading. Soon, I bought an inexpensive deck of my own, since I liked having physical cards.
To be clear, I did not see my tarot readings as revealing the future, but rather my own state of mind. The images and archetypes all elicited different reactions. The themes of each suit were a container in which I could explore my life. Over time, I stopped having to look up the meaning of each card. Some seemed to revisit me more often than others and developed their own meanings. The Queen of Cups reminded me of my grandmother, for example.
I’d draw a card in a quiet moment and see where it took me. Other times, I’d sit for a more complex reading. With the cards as prompts, journaling became more intuitive. I learned to associate my intellectualizing with the suit of Swords, and found it helpful to have imagery for other ways of approaching things, especially the Cups.
I soon expanded to astrology. The elements of air, earth, fire, and water helped me conceptualize my thinking style. My moon is in earthy Capricorn, for example, symbolizing a practical and sometimes reserved approach to emotions. Ironically, I was already passionate about the importance of archetypes and mythology in my literature and history classes. Yet it took me years to accept their relevance to my own life through these practices!
Dream Work
Finally, I began dream journaling. The strange occurrences and abstract images of a dream were another landscape for emotional interpretation. Each morning, I’d wake up and record as much as I could about my dreams. I’d record themes, characters, images, colors, and anything else notable.
The most common theme was having to pack my things for a return trip home. How had I acquired so much that it wouldn’t fit into my suitcase anymore? Why were all my cats with me, without their carriers, and how would I keep them safe? What time was that flight again? I took it as a symbol for the feelings of anxiety and overwhelm that still flared up almost daily, and the belief that I had to manage it all myself. I tracked themes over weeks and months, and observed shifts as my life changed. Importantly, I saw that my feelings ebbed and flowed, and that the concerns of my life were fluid, too.
A New Relationship with Emotions
I still find my emotions mysterious at times. These tools, however, have helped me recognize when I need to check in with myself. When I can find a quiet moment to return to one of these practices, it can help me reset. And once I identify the feeling, and explore it a bit, it often yields valuable information about my life and relationships.
How do you manage your emotions and/or alexithymia? Let me know in the comments!
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Need a place to work through your feelings? Check out the Be Kind to Your Mind hardcover notebook.
