The Art of Holding Space

From the time we are kids, we’ve been taught, directly or indirectly, that our feelings are “too much”.

A toddler cries and is told to be quiet, “Oh just stop!” A child yells in frustration and is sent to a corner, isolated, until they can “calm down.” A teenager’s tears are met with the silent treatment, or worse…shame. Love and physical connection…the very things we crave most during the storms of our emotions, are withheld until we demonstrate that we can “behave.”

The message: I will only be loved if I nerf my feelings; if I ignore “me.”

And wIth that baggage, we grow up believing that our feelings are dangerous, that anger must be hidden, that grief must be swallowed, that joy must not be “too much.”

From “Awe…don’t cry, sweetheart,” to “I’ll give you something to cry about.” We learn to censor our hearts, to stuff our true essence. We learn…or at least I learned…that what I feel, who I am, as I am…isn’t acceptable.

But here is the truth, as I see it: Every feeling is sacred. Every feeling is authentic. Our joy and our pain is tied to something real. Exploring that…our tenderness, our compassion, our pain…ought to be a beautiful and fulfilling journey.

And it’s easy to offer love when someone is calm, polite, and composed. But our truest compassion reveals itself when people are raw, when their voices shake with rage, when their grief is loud, when their sorrow overflows into a dark and painful silence.

These are the moments when our response matters most.

As the observers, do we clam up? Do we awkwardly shut down, distancing ourselves? Do we punish with threats or shame or guilt…or worse…isolation?

In those formative moments, can we find it within ourselves to hold space?

…to love?

Can we be stable and patient, allowing another human beings to come completely undone without the fear of judgement or of being abandoned when they’re most vulnerable? Can we prove to them our love unconditional?

And this prompt…this writing, this plea…it’s not just about individuals. It is about our communities as well.

Think of racism, bigotry, social injustices. Imagine the unimaginable: Generations of unjust pain, humiliation, loss and death. That kind of pain doesn’t simply vanish because a law changes or time passes. There may still be deep, deep anger: rage! There may be heartbreak. There may be fear of retaliation.

Yet, when those who carry this pain express it…when they raise their voices, when they protest, when their grief turns into rage, as it would… When people advocate, asking for acknowledgement… asking for justice, too often our response is,

“Oh, come on now! What are they doing? Why. Not like this. Again. Nobody’s gonna listen when they’re screaming. Look at them. They need to calm down.”

In other words: We will only acknowledge their suffering if it comes packaged neatly, without making us feel uncomfortable.

Those types of responses have got to perpetuate the pain, the ache, the anger, leaving the mistreated thinking…

“Really? Even in my suffering I have to suffer in a way that is acceptable to you? I don’t think so!”

These human beings, who may not respond like you would choose…they’re healing.

And you haven’t been through what they’ve been through.

They’re trying to right the wrongs. And healing does not come through repression. Healing comes through truth, through expression, through being allowed to feel.

To demand silence or “decorum” from the wounded is to ask them to suffocate their own humanity for our comfort.

What if instead we chose love? Love, the verb. What if, when confronted with anger born from injustice, we did not recoil but leaned in? What if we learned? What if we said, “I see your rage, and I’m sorry. May I please sit with you so you don’t feel alone in your suffering? Would it help if I held space for you? I will sit with you until it softens into something else. I will not withhold my presence, my compassion, my love until you are palatable. I will love you until. I will love you until you are whole, and I will love you beyond.”

Imagine the power of a world where children were not shamed for crying, where partners did not withhold affection as a type of punishment or control, where communities did not expect the marginalized to suppress their grief just to be accepted. Imagine a world where every human being knew that their emotions…even the hardest, sharpest, messiest ones…were welcome.

We cannot choose a different past, but we can choose differently now. We can practice radical acceptance. We can create spaces where feelings are honored. We can remember that emotions are not problems to be solved, but maps toward healing.

To love someone in their brokenness is not easy. It’s even harder when their brokenness lies partially on you. It requires patience, courage, humility. But it is the kind of love that heals and transforms and liberates.

Let us not withhold love until others are “whole.” Let us love them through and beyond the process of becoming whole.

#loveisaverb