Over time I have learned that negative feelings are not something I can simply outrun. I tried that once. I tried to stay busy, to keep moving forward, to outrun grief, anger, shame, and loneliness by filling my days with work and responsibility. For a long time it looked like it worked. I built a career. I served the church. I led organizations. I raised a family. On the outside it appeared that I had everything under control. But feelings have a way of waiting patiently. They sit quietly beneath the surface until the moment when they can no longer be ignored.
What I have learned over the years is that coping with negative feelings is not about eliminating them. It is about learning how to live with them without letting them define me.
One of the most important strategies I have learned is to write. Writing has become a kind of sanctuary for me. When feelings become overwhelming, when thoughts start spiraling in directions that frighten me, I put them into words. Something strange happens when I do that. Emotions that feel enormous and chaotic inside my mind begin to take shape when they appear on the page. They become sentences instead of storms. They become stories instead of shadows. Writing does not erase the pain, but it gives the pain a place to live outside of me. I no longer have to carry it alone inside my chest.
In many ways, writing has allowed me to tell the truth about my life. There are things I could not say out loud for years. There were fears I buried and griefs I pretended did not exist. But when I write, honesty becomes possible. I can say the things that once felt unspeakable. I can explore the parts of myself that I once tried to hide. The act of writing turns negative feelings into something creative, something reflective, something that might even help someone else who feels alone.
Another strategy I have learned is to pay attention to beauty. That may sound simple, but it has become deeply important in my life. Photography has played a significant role in this. When I hold a camera and search for light, I am forced to slow down. I notice things I would otherwise miss. The way the sun reflects off water. The long shadows of buildings in the evening. The quiet drama of clouds gathering over the ocean.
When I focus on capturing those moments, my mind shifts away from the internal noise that negative feelings create. I am pulled into the present moment. I begin to see that even in difficult seasons, beauty still exists. Light still breaks through the clouds. The world still offers moments of grace if I am willing to look for them.
Movement has also become a strategy for coping with negative feelings. Walking, especially, has helped me more than I expected. There is something about moving my body through space that clears my mind. When emotions feel tangled and heavy, walking gives them somewhere to go. Each step seems to carry away a little bit of the weight.
Sometimes when I walk, I pray. Other times I simply breathe and observe the world around me. Either way, movement reminds me that I am still alive, still moving forward, even on the days when life feels unbearably difficult.
Faith has also played a complicated but meaningful role in how I cope with negative feelings. My relationship with God has not always been simple or comfortable. There have been seasons when I felt abandoned, confused, even angry. I have asked questions that did not seem to have answers. I have wrestled with the silence of heaven during moments when I desperately wanted clarity.
Yet somehow, even through that struggle, faith remains part of my life. One strategy I have learned is to wrestle honestly with God rather than pretending everything is fine. The Psalms are filled with people crying out in confusion and pain, and that has given me permission to do the same. I do not have to sanitize my prayers. I can bring my anger, my grief, my fear, and my disappointment before God. Faith does not require me to pretend that life is easy. Instead, it invites me to bring my whole self into the conversation.
Another coping strategy I have learned is to allow feelings to exist without judging myself for having them. For many years I believed that certain emotions were unacceptable. I thought that strong leaders were supposed to be calm, confident, and composed at all times. I believed that sadness or vulnerability meant weakness.
Life has taught me otherwise. Negative feelings are part of being human. Grief is a natural response to loss. Anger can be a signal that something unjust has occurred. Fear sometimes reflects the uncertainty of stepping into unknown territory. Instead of fighting these emotions, I have learned to acknowledge them. I try to sit with them long enough to understand what they are trying to tell me.
I have also learned the importance of connection. Isolation can magnify negative feelings until they feel overwhelming. When I talk with someone I trust, when I share honestly about what I am experiencing, the burden becomes lighter. It reminds me that I am not the only person who struggles. Other people carry their own stories of pain, confusion, and resilience.
Perhaps the most important lesson I have learned is that negative feelings are temporary visitors, not permanent residents. They arrive uninvited, sometimes with great intensity, but they do not stay forever. I have lived long enough to see that even the darkest moments eventually shift. Pain softens. Perspective changes. Healing slowly begins.
Coping with negative feelings does not mean that I always feel strong or hopeful. There are still days when emotions feel heavy and uncertain. But now I have tools that help me navigate those moments. I write. I walk. I look for beauty. I pray honestly. I speak with people I trust. And I remind myself that feelings, no matter how intense they may seem, are only one part of a much larger story.
My life is still unfolding. And even when negative feelings appear, they are no longer the authors of that story. I am.
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