Sadness, melancholy, sorrow. I’m wondering what comes up for you when you hear these words? I’ll hazard a guess that they don’t spark a warm and welcoming response in your heart, and that it might be hard for you to greet these feelings as worthy guests in your life. Many of us have a difficult relationship with sadness, and so many people arrive at my therapy room with the hope and intention of getting rid of it. They want to excise the inconvenient sorrow from their lives, seeing it as a deviation from a supposed norm of happiness (or even just “okayness”).
Why does Sadness Feel So Difficult?
Take a moment to consider what models of sadness you grew up with. Perhaps you didn’t often see adults crying, and if they did it was behind closed doors. This can leave us with a wonky perception of sadness being more “rare” than it really is, and also that perhaps there’s something rather shameful about it, if it mostly lurks in the shadows. On the other hand, perhaps you lived with someone who seemed very sad all the time, which brings a different type of wariness to the table.
Whether sadness was tucked away, or lingered like a cloud over the family the end result might be quite similar: a lack of trust that sadness can arise, do its work, and move on. Because of this, many people have a fear that if they give sadness an inch, it will take a mile. It might even overwhelm us, and have no end.
In addition to this, the physical sensations of sadness can often be uncomfortable, or even painful. You might be familiar with the feeling of a lump in your throat, or an ache in your heart, or a heaviness in your body. We’re hardwired to avoid pain, so it’s hardly surprising if we do our best to turn away from sadness.
However, sadness doesn’t sit still when ignored. It tugs at your sleeve like a small child. It ferments in the dark, and you might find it leaking out sideways - as anxiety, burnout, numbness, or crashing waves of despair. For this reason alone, it might be wiser not to shelve our sorrow.
The Deeper Value of Sadness
But the benefit of turning towards our sadness goes much further than strategically avoiding an uncontrolled explosion or implosion. Sadness brings gifts: it is so often a mirror of love. It shows us what we care about, what we hoped for, what we’ve lost or longed for. It speaks of attachment, depth, dreams. It reminds us that we’re alive, and that we’re human.
I believe that sadness can be a gateway to intimacy, both with ourselves and others. I often notice that when someone allows themselves to feel and express their sadness, something shifts in the room. A closeness emerges not despite the sadness, but because of it. We know that mirror neurons in the brain help us attune to one another’s emotional states. When we see someone cry, for example, our own neural circuits echo their experience. This resonance isn’t just metaphorical, it’s physiological. It helps us feel with, rather than just for, someone.
In offering a warm and accepting relationship to my clients, my implicit invitation is for them to try turning with gentleness towards the multitude of parts within themself. What if sadness is one of those parts, waiting not to be fixed, but to be met? When we turn toward our sadness with tender curiosity rather than fear or antipathy, we begin a kind of inner intimacy - a soft reconnection with something long exiled.
Gently Turning Towards It - Practices for Sadness
If you’re not ready to talk to someone yet, here are a few ways to invite gentle connection with your sadness:
Dipping Your Toe in the Waters of Sadness
Try simply setting aside a few quiet minutes to sit with your sadness without trying to change it. You might want to set a timer, so you know there’s a clear end point. Prepare something comforting for afterwards - a warm drink, a favourite jumper, a few moments of movement or music. Think of it like cold water swimming: you go in for a brief, bracing experience, but you have your dryrobe and hot flask waiting. Treating sadness as something worthy of attention, but in a small, bearable dose, can be a helpful first step.
Write a Letter to Your Sadness
You might try writing to your sadness as if it were a person. You could ask it what it wants you to know, or what it needs from you. You could even let it write back. This kind of conversation can nurture more connection and understanding if your sadness currently feels like an unwelcome intruder in your life.
Speak It Aloud - Even Just a Sentence
Try naming your sadness out loud, just to yourself. You could say “I feel sad because…” or “This hurts because…”. Naming feelings can help them feel more manageable, and less overwhelming than when they’re circling around inside.
Be Curious About Your Embodied Sadness
Can you sense where sadness is sitting in your body? Is it heavy, tight, still, aching? Does it have a shape, a texture, a colour? If it has a location in your body, perhaps try placing a hand there, so it can feel your intention to connect with it.
Let Music Help You Feel:
Sometimes sadness needs a soundtrack. Choose some music that echoes how you feel, not to cheer yourself up but to allow yourself to be “seen”, even if only by a melody.
Final Thoughts
I hope I’ve described how sadness isn’t a mistake, or an inconvenient “glitch” in your life. If sorrow has been tugging at your sleeve, perhaps now is the time to turn towards it with compassion, and begin to listen out for what it’s been trying to say. When we learn to welcome our sadness, it can become not just bearable, but meaningful.
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