I joke that my spirit animal is an Excel spreadsheet. What does that mean?

Generally, spreadsheets engage the rational part of my brain, which I’m most comfortable using. There is no crying in spreadsheets.

Last week I talked a little about Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) as a tool that has helped me in my healing journey. One of the principal concepts in DBT is “Wise Mind” – living where rational mind and emotional mind overlap. If someone is too emotional, their reactions may be over the top; likewise, if someone operates only from the rational side they will probably lack joy and maybe even purpose.

For example, suppose I’m paying my bills and my friend Susie calls, inviting me to go out for dinner. My emotional mind will know that I love spending time with Susie, and I might ignore my bills (and my bank account) to drop everything and have a nice dinner with my friend. My rational mind might say that money’s tight right now and an expensive dinner is not in my budget, so I should turn her down. With either choice, one side of my brain is going to be really unhappy.

But what if I told Susie that I don’t really have the time or funding for dinner tonight, but maybe we could meet for coffee or dessert in an hour or so? With that Wise Mind compromise, both parts of my mind would be getting part of what they want. My bills will get paid, and I get to laugh and enjoy Susie’s company. I would get what I need and what I want.

If our heart is our best compass on the healing path, the mind – conscious and unconscious – is the territory to be navigated. Healing brings the two into alignment and cooperation, often after a lifetime of one hiding behind or being disregarded by the other.

Gabor Mate, The Myth of Normal

I’ve spent many years in spreadsheet mode, letting the rational part of my brain drive my bus. I don’t avoid emotion mind by conscious choice; it’s just that I feel a lot of old pain that I recoil from, as if touching a hot stove. For at least five years I’ve known crying was the next step on my healing journey – my depression is fueled by an emotional deadness resulting from that recoil.

Crying feels terrifying – truly life or death. When I was a kid, “I’ll give you something to cry about,” was followed by significant violence. When I feel sadness or hurt start to bubble up, a wave of numbness instead washes over me. I focus on a concrete task.

Or at least I did, until last month when the tears started to fall very gently and quietly down my face. I’m not sure what shifted, exactly, but I’ve started to cry. In the weeks since, I keep finding myself weeping for a few minutes at a time.

And spreadsheets no longer run my show.