Sacred Ground: What Comes Up in the Pause
Last week, we talked about the sacred pause.
This week: What happens when you actually stop long enough to feel what's there?
Most men avoid the pause because they know something's waiting for them. Something uncomfortable. Something they've been outrunning with busyness, work, and constant motion.
They're right to be cautious. When you finally slow down, everything you've been avoiding comes knocking at once.
The Story
The first time I tried to sit still for more than five minutes, my body felt like a prison.
My jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. Shoulders hunched up around my ears. Chest compressed like someone was sitting on it. Every muscle seemed to be holding something I didn't want to feel.
Then the voices started.
"You're never going to get this right. You always mess everything up."
"You're weak. Pathetic. Everyone can see it."
"Just give up. What's the point anyway?"
The self-criticism was brutal, harsher than anything I'd say to my worst enemy. The intensity was overwhelming. Part of me wanted to jump up and start doing something, anything, to make it stop. Clean the house, check emails, go to the gym. Movement felt like salvation.
But I'd learned something from getting laid off and forced to slow down: running from this stuff only makes it stronger. So I stayed. Breathed through the tightness. Let the voices have their say.
What I discovered changed how I understood my own mind.
Those harsh voices weren't my enemies, they were parts of me that had been neglected for so long they'd learned to scream to get attention. Like kids acting out because they feel ignored.
Once I stopped fighting them and started listening, something shifted. The angry voice was protecting a part of me that felt vulnerable. The mean voice was covering up deep sadness that just wanted to be acknowledged.
They weren't trying to destroy me. They were trying to get me to pay attention to parts of myself that needed care.
What I've Learned
When men finally pause, they get hit with what feels like chaos. Physical tension they've been carrying for years. Emotions they've been pushing down. Thoughts that range from harsh self-criticism to genuine despair.
The instinct is to run back to busyness. But here's what I've discovered: that intensity isn't a sign you're doing something wrong. It's your nervous system finally feeling safe enough to show you what needs attention.
Think about what happens when you post something online. You get helpful comments, nice ones, and harsh ones - sometimes downright cruel. Your internal world works the same way. Different parts of you comment on your life constantly.
But here's the key difference: external trolls don't want relationship with you. They want to provoke and disappear. Your internal parts actually do want connection. They want to be heard, integrated, included in your life. When you ignore them, they get louder and meaner, like neglected children.
Think of it like a pressure cooker. You've been building up steam for years. When you finally hit the release valve, it's going to hiss and feel scary before the pressure settles. That's not malfunction - that's how it works.
The men who can learn to stay with this intensity, to breathe through it instead of running from it, develop something most men never find: a relationship with their own inner world.
Here's the framework I use with clients when everything comes up at once:
Treat your inner voices like children demanding attention. You can't listen to all of them screaming at the same time, but you can say: "I hear you. Let's start with you, anger. Then I'll make time for you, sadness. Everyone gets heard, but one at a time."
Don't feed the trolls, but do listen to what's helpful. Just like online, some internal voices are just noise. Others carry real information. Learn to distinguish between what deserves your attention and what's just mental static.
Set boundaries when needed. Sometimes you need to tell a part "Not now. I'll come back to you when I have capacity." That's not rejection, boundaries create space for real relationship later.
Get outside help. It's easy to become identified with a harsh inner voice and think "I'm worthless" instead of "a part of me feels worthless." Having someone help you separate from these parts while staying in relationship with them is valuable.
Most importantly: "Out of control" just means "fallen out of relationship." When intensity feels like chaos, you haven't lost your mind - you've lost connection with what's happening inside you. The solution isn't to shut it down. It's to get curious about what it's trying to tell you.
Practice: The Daily Check-In
This week, we're learning to work with what comes up instead of running from it.
Step 1: Set Your Container Every morning, sit somewhere comfortable for 10 minutes. Set a timer. This isn't meditation, it's reconnaissance. You're gathering intel about what's alive in your system.
Step 2: Feel Your Body First Close your eyes and scan from head to toe. Where do you feel tension? Tightness? Heaviness? Don't try to fix it, just notice it. Your body has been carrying information all night.
Step 3: Listen to the Voices What thoughts are demanding attention? Instead of pushing them away or believing them completely, get curious. What is this voice trying to protect? What does it need?
Step 4: Prioritize Ask yourself: "What here is urgent versus important?" Some things need immediate attention. Others can wait but shouldn't be ignored forever.
Step 5: Give One Voice Time Pick the loudest or most persistent voice and have a conversation with it. Out loud if possible. "I hear that you're worried about work. What specifically do you need me to know?"
Step 6: End with Appreciation Before you get up, acknowledge that you showed up for yourself. Even if it felt overwhelming, you stayed present with your own experience. That takes courage.
Why this works: Most men spend their whole lives avoiding their inner world or being overwhelmed by it. This practice teaches you to stay in relationship with intensity instead of running from it or being consumed by it. Over time, you develop the capacity to hear what's really important versus what's just noise.
“That intensity isn’t chaos. It’s your nervous system finally feeling safe enough to show you what needs attention.”
Ready to develop a relationship with your inner world? I work with men who are tired of running from what's inside them and ready to build the capacity to stay present with intensity. If this resonates, let's talk.
Share the courage: Forward this to someone ready to stop running and start listening.
The work continues. Your future self is counting on you.
Robbie
Wilderness Therapist & Guide
ritualsmentalhealth.com
