In my clinical practice, I often meet clients who are at odds with themselves, caught between one commitment and another. They wrestle between aspiration and duty, self-care and care for others. There are teenagers who struggle to assert independence against the authority of their parents, lovers who cleave to each other despite the call of their diverging life paths. The tension often arises from powerful forces, and the opposition can seem intractable. In the case of the teenager, an emerging agency comes against the sheltering container of the parents’ care and concern. The adolescent must stand on their own two feet without severing the bonds of love that has thus far included the parents’ supervision. Lovers torn between their individual calling and their togetherness are negotiating a dilemma between near-term bliss and long-term fulfillment. This inner tension is further aggravated by the disjuncture between what we know and what we feel. I often hear clients say: “I know I should be choosing my career, but I can’t seem to step away from this relationship.” Others might say: “I know I shouldn’t be judging myself so harshly, but I also don’t feel that any alternative is possible.” The “I know . . . but. . .” dynamic arises from the complexities of life, the competing values that we negotiate throughout life’s many passages. This inner tension generates the feeling of being stuck, and produces frustrations that can become destructive if not accompanied by reflection and guidance. In this brief article, I limit myself to the common tensions that many people experience (relationships, careers, life transitions) and leave aside the tensions that stem from addiction and trauma.
People often feel their inner tension as an affliction. The opposing forces threaten to obliterate their sense of self. Understandably, clients seek resolution, a way to dissolve the strain that rends their inner world. However, if we treat the tension as an affliction to be dissolved, we may miss an opportunity to undertake a deeper realignment of our life’s desires. One therapeutic approach lies in reframing the tension as a generative force that facilitate growth. If we proceed on the premise that the tensions are beneficial, we may emerge with insights not otherwise possible had we eliminated the tension with superficial gestures. Inner tension often signals the following:
A Major Life Transition – Something is nearing expiry. The activities, routines, duties that have previously brought a sense of purpose and agency no longer fill their orders. Perhaps the body feels the effects of age. Perhaps our surroundings have changed so rapidly that we no longer feel included. Perhaps another life is beckoning, but we cannot decipher its precise promise. One life bound to die, the other yet to be born, we are caught in disarray, lost in a purgatory where there is neither up nor down. We cling to the familiar, that which no longer serves us. We are also pulled toward something else, yet unable to accept that in order to enter the new, we must leave the old. These plaguing tensions indicate an imminent transformation. Skin has become shell, a prison from which we must emerge through a painful struggle, squeezing and squirming past the confines of our old life. In the case of transition, pain is a necessary facilitator of development. It destabilizes our rigid egos, our outmoded identities, our recalcitrant attitudes that prevent us from moving with the flowing cosmos. If we can trust that the discomfort ushers us toward renewal, we might rest a little in its company. In the process, we may find ourselves closer to poise and equanimity in the midst of a tumultuous change.
A Call for Integration – Competing desires and goals can mark a progression in our development. As we step fully into this messy human life, we are confronted with commitments and responsibilities that seem to divide us. Should I pursue my heart’s passion and risk financial destitution? Or should I build a career that pays the mortgage but starves the soul? These looming questions produce angst and anxiety. The stakes are high, the outcomes catastrophic. However, beyond first blush, this wrenching tension suggests a movement toward integration. How shall we merge two competing goals to form a more complete whole? How do we go from thesis to anti-thesis and arrive at synthesis, as Aristotle proposed? Facing career choices, the challenge lies in finding occupations that stoke our passions, talents and creativity in ways that are financially rewarding. In relationships, the task lies in finding avenues for meeting one set of needs in ways that do not sacrifice other needs. For example, every long-term relationship needs both stability and novelty. Couples feel their relationship turn stale when the stability of their union forecloses novel experiences. People may feel compelled to pursue sexual encounters with different partners when monogamy becomes bland. Beyond the question of whether or not to open a relationship, the underlying question remains: How can we preserve the stability of a union while allowing for new experiences to freshen the relationship? Alternatively, we might ask: What parameters does this relationship afford, and how can we shift these parameters to allow for more newness? Novelty, in this case, is more fundamental than sex; it is about self-actualization, the expansiveness we feel when our horizons widen, when we pierce through the familiar and emerge with a different consciousness. Contradictions call us to the work of integration, so that we address the disparate parts of ourselves, making our desires more coherent and our commitments better aligned.
An Invitation for Inner Capaciousness – When confronted with ambivalence, clients often feel compelled to dispel the inner tension. For example, clients might struggle under the harsh judgement of an inner critic. Nothing is good enough. The clients know they should be kinder to themselves, but cannot muster the kindness to placate the inner critic. They are trapped in an “I know. . . but. . .” pattern. There is a temptation to silence the inner critic; however, to banish the inner critic is itself an act of harshness, and hardly a movement toward kindness. Rather, the disjuncture invites a widening of inner capacity to hold both the inner critic and complete self-acceptance within a space of warm awareness. We acknowledge without judgement that which we know and what we feel, including the gap between them. In so doing, we are already larger than the contradiction, more capacious than the tensions that rage within. In cases where toxic self-criticism produces abject misery, there is a place for dispute that alters the tenor of inner dialogue. However, this act of dispute does not eliminate the inner critic, but rather restores balance to the tone of self-talk. If we learn to hold the disparate parts of ourselves, we eventually appreciate the purposes they serve. The inner critic oversees our efforts toward excellence. The inner child keeps us close to our innocence and vulnerability. We need every part of our experience as we claim our wholeness throughout the journey of life.
We can face our inner contradictions by taking a few simple measures. Here are some practical suggestions:
Replace “but” with “and” – When caught in the snare of “I know. . . but. . .”, we can experiment replacing “but” with “and.” But signals opposition. It tends to discount what the precedes it and underscore everything that follows. But suggests a choice between two countervailing options, an either/or. Conversely, And conveys inclusivity, a spaciousness that admits the complexity of our emotions. Consider the following: I know I should be kinder to my mother, but I do not know how to do that. If the thought is expressed differently, we arrive at the following: I know I should be kinder to my mother, and I don’t know how to do that. The difference is subtle but significant. The former indicates a stalemate. The “but” locks in the antinomy. The latter, however, offers more room for possibility. There is a flow to the thought, as if to suggest the next step. When working with conflicting emotions, we can practice using “and” to indicate a capacity to hold contradiction and ambivalence. “I adore the dog, but it’s driving me crazy” is not as magnanimous as “I adore the dog, and it’s driving me crazy at the same time.”
Name the parts, compose a dialogue – Identify clusters of thoughts and emotions, attribute them to one facet of our complex psyche. Self-blame, criticism, and embarrassment usually belong to the inner critic. Give the inner critic a name (try facetious monikers like “Grumpy”). Conversely, locate a gentler, kinder side of ourselves, an aspect that will meet the critic as an equal. Give this side a name (think of someone who embodies gentleness and kind wisdom). Then, play out a conversation between the two characters, each side a reflection of an aspect of yourself. Conjure a conversation in your mind, or write out the exchange. The conversation itself need not reach a resolution, nor must there be a winner. The dialogue itself is a form of reflection, a way of processing and integrating the conflicting parts of ourselves. Personifying our inner tensions can seem contrived and elementary. However, this dramatization gives shape to the conflicting parts of ourselves, helps us identify our disparate impulses, and gives voice to each part. Bringing each part into dialogue, we skillfully manage inner conflict so as to avoid fragmentation. By doing this, we learn that what we call “self” is an ongoing process, an operation that we can shape through conscious participation.
Soften into the body – Because the body and the mind are not separate, negative emotions and thoughts can manifest in physical afflictions. We may feel our muscles clench, our shoulders tight, our stomach in a knot. Left unchecked, psycho-somatic distress can seep into other aspects of health, affecting appetite, sleep and overall levels of energy. When we feel caught by inner conflict, we can tune into our bodies and adjust to our physical comportment. Notice the sensation in the body associated with inner pain; then, with the light of awareness we can hold that sensation in the warmth of curiosity. Gently and patiently, we soften those parts of the body, allowing tension to dissipate. The body is a tangible access point to the mind. Bringing conscious awareness to psycho-somatic processes, we can alter the unconscious link between mental and physical distress. The aim is not to abolish the discomfort, but to soften into them.
These suggestions are only a few ways to deal with inner conflict. They rest on the assumption that our inner-tension has something to show us, that they are generative forces that inch us closer to maturity. The challenge lies in resisting the temptation to avoid the inner-conflict, to distract ourselves with pleasantries. The way out is through. Trusting in the tensions, we undergo a re-alignment of elemental components and emerge a different person.