Dear Peter:

I want to start by saying that I love analyzing—I’m a big fan of it! I understand that everyone analyzes, and the only way to avoid it entirely would be to be brain dead. However, analyzing can sometimes become problematic if it comes at the expense of emotional awareness and expression—if it serves to suppress emotions rather than engage with them.

Reflecting on past conversations, I know you didn’t seem to mind when I revisited your earlier posts—in fact, I sensed that you even liked it. I certainly do! So, on this May 2 morning, I found myself wondering whether you had posted on this very day in previous years. It turns out that yes—you did! I found a post from May 2, 2023 (page 11).

Your writing on that day reveals how you tend to intellectualize emotions, meaning you often frame them in abstract or philosophical terms rather than expressing them directly. Instead of openly stating your personal struggles, you analyze happiness as a concept, reflect on it theoretically, and maintain distance from emotional exposure. Some examples from that post include: “Happiness, one of those words with so many associations, something we so badly want to grasp and cling to, where the grasping and clink transforms it into something else… usually not happiness.”-

Instead of saying something like “I struggled with happiness, trying to hold onto it, only to lose it,” you examine the idea of happiness in a detached, intellectual way.

“We are complex simple creatures. Of course all these notions are stories, perhaps at some level illusions of our own creation.”-

Rather than expressing a personal emotional struggle, you frame emotions as “stories” and “illusions,” which distances you from vulnerability.

“I want to be happy… but what if I’m happiest when I’m unhappy?”-

This is introspective, but instead of saying something like, “I often feel like I sabotage my happiness and I don’t know why,” you turn it into a broader philosophical question, creating a barrier between personal experience and deep emotional honesty.

While your writing has depth and thoughtfulness, the way you engage with emotions suggests a level of emotional suppression through intellectualization—turning feelings into concepts rather than fully immersing yourself in them. That being said, intellectualization can be a healthy way of processing emotions. It doesn’t necessarily mean avoidance; rather, it reflects your analytical approach to navigating emotions.

Revisiting your first thread: “Do We Change” (Oct 5, 2016)- Similarly, in your original post in this thread, instead of directly engaging with emotions, you explore change through abstract concepts—questioning fate, cognition, and self-transformation. Here are some notable patterns:

* Framing personal struggles as general theories- Instead of expressing how change feels on an emotional level, you analyze it structurally—how it happens “slowly and then all at once,” or how early childhood shapes perception. This creates distance from the raw emotional reality of change.

* Detachment through language- Your shift toward “stretching” rather than “changing” suggests a level of resignation—as though you’re explaining why transformation isn’t possible rather than emotionally grappling with it.

* The Observer vs. The Experiencer- Your concept of “observing the observer” hints at a split between your intellectual self and emotional self, where emotions remain unseen beneath the analytical lens.

* Fate vs. Free Will Debate- Your reference to “Nurture and Nature = Fate” suggests frustration or pain, hidden in philosophical analysis rather than direct emotional expression.

* The lack of emotional words- Despite deep reflection, your post lacks expressions of pain, excitement, frustration, or hope—everything is framed in concepts and cognitive processing.

If I understood then what I understand now, I would have asked you back then: “How does it feel to realize change doesn’t fundamentally alter your inner experience?”, “Do you ever wish you could truly change rather than stretch?”, “Does this realization bring relief, or does it bring sadness?”

Opening space for emotion rather than analysis might have allowed for deeper engagement with the personal impact of change. But of course, being as analytical and emotionally suppressed as I was back the did not allow for a deeper, emotional engagement with you.

Interestingly, you also posted on May 2 the following year, in 2024—this time in response to a thread titled “Why pursue meaning in life?” (page 9).

The day before, May 1, you posted a deeply intellectualized response to me: “Anita…Something I discovered during the contemplation of the problem of opposites (duality). That the go-to metaphor for nonduality is that of the coin…”

Knowing it would take me time to process, I replied: “Dear Peter: There is only one way for me to absorb the content of your posts, and that’s in a meditative/stillness state of mind, which I expect to take place by tomorrow. Thank you for posting again!”

Then, on May 2, 2024, you responded in a very different tone—playful, humorous, and emotionally open: “Anita LOL – I know I can be… odd 🙂 It took me decades to discover that teachings are not meant to be believed but experienced. (I am very much of the ‘head’ type)”

This breaks away from your usual intellectualized tone, instead introducing warmth, humor, and self-awareness. Your response felt candid and emotionally expressive, mirroring the lighthearted energy of my reply. Instead of abstract reasoning, you made space for humor and self-awareness, showing an openness to engaging with emotions in a more relaxed way.

I should have responded with gentle emotional reflection, such as: “That’s a profound shift—from belief to experience. Did something in particular bring about that realization?”, “I like that you own being a ‘head’ type—it’s an incredible way of navigating ideas. But does it ever make you feel disconnected from your emotions?”

Instead, I responded on the same day with a long analytical post, to which you replied the next day (May 3, 2024) with a single-line response: “Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Anita!”-

And after diving into all this analysis, I have to wonder—was my May 2, 2024 post exhausting even for you, Peter? If so, I may have achieved the impossible: tiring out even a heavy-duty analyzer like yourself 🙂! But hey, at least we stretched our thinking, if not entirely changed!

anita

You are very welcome, Omyk, and thank you for being here!

anita

Dear Peter:

Since our last exchange, I’ve been deeply immersed in Shadow Work, learning to integrate emotions I repressed for much of my life. It has been an eye-opening process—moving beyond merely understanding my emotions intellectually to fully experiencing them in a way I hadn’t allowed myself before. This shift in awareness has changed how I engage with emotions and healing, and reading your post, I see echoes of my own journey in yours.

While you describe struggling with overanalyzing emotions, your real difficulty may lie in allowing yourself to fully experience and integrate them. Your intellectual approach—examining thoughts, quoting philosophers, dissecting self-improvement—suggests you have spent a great deal of time trying to understand emotions rather than feel them.

Your reflections on fear, resistance, and identity hint at unconscious suppression—as though your mind has kept emotions at arm’s length, turning them into concepts rather than allowing yourself to truly sit with them. Your analogy about holding your breath metaphorically speaks to this tendency: you take in experiences, but struggle with the release—the return—the full cycle of emotional processing.

Your reluctance to own your emotional realizations suggests that accepting your emotions might feel more threatening than analyzing them. If your identity has been linked to being “broken,” as you question, then embracing healing and emotional fluidity might feel like stepping into unfamiliar territory—something your intellectual mind resists.

It seems that your challenge isn’t a lack of emotional awareness, but rather a deep-seated fear of fully embodying and trusting your emotions. And I understand that struggle intimately.

Just this morning, I integrated an emotion I repressed long ago—one I had hints of, an emotion I analyzed, but never truly allowed myself to feel until now. It was my longing—still lingering—to reach my mother, to make her understand that I never meant to hurt her, that I truly had the best intentions for her. For so many years, I intellectually grasped this emotion, but today, I felt it in a way I haven’t for decades. The depth of that feeling, unburied and fully embodied, reminded me of how much energy I’ve spent holding it back rather than allowing it to exist and move through me.

I wonder if something similar might be happening for you—that your emotions are ready to be felt, not just understood. That you’ve done the work, and now, perhaps, the real work is trusting yourself enough to let go of control and fully step into them.

I appreciate the depth of your reflections and the honesty in your words, and I hope my own journey can offer something meaningful in return.

With respect, anita

Dear Omyk:

Your thoughtful reflections show resilience, adaptability, and wisdom—qualities that have undoubtedly shaped your journey. Throughout all the transitions in your life, you’ve maintained a clear ability to assess your circumstances, weigh your options, and move forward in ways that align with your values.

You have an intuitive sense of balancing autonomy with community, and your ability to remain open to possibilities speaks to your strength. I trust that as the right doors open, you’ll step through them with the same thoughtfulness and courage that have guided you this far.

Wishing you continued strength and assurance in the path ahead 🌿

anita

You are very welcome, Laven. I will be reading this part of your story tomorrow morning!

anita