Compartmentalising: good or bad?

It's interesting when you get to that point in your life where you stop believing everything you read. For me, this is only a recent revelation. I always thought anything I read in a book was factual information to devour and be regurgitated at a later date. It is all learning, yes, but sometimes what we are learning is what we agree with and what we don’t.

Last week I spoke about Anya Hindmarch's book, If In Doubt, Wash Your Hair. On a particularly slow tube journey recently I was reading this book and, in particular, her thoughts on what she calls ‘the domino effect’: not letting one thing consume you to the point where everything begins to topple unsteadily and fall away from you. She speaks about her envy of others' ability to compartmentalise: to put something in a box and put it to the side. From my experience in counselling, I know that I am a pro-compartmentaliser and this has often been to my detriment. So, for me, reading this didn't sit easily: is compartmentalising really a good thing? I'm not so sure.

After some thought I've concluded two things: first, I think compartmentalising can be a necessary act of self-preservation and second, that it's okay as long as we remember to take things out of their compartments in a timely manner. As we know from a favourite Mindful Moments quote from Shakespeare: “nothing is either good or bad but thinking makes it so”. In other words, compartmentalising in itself is not problematic, but it's what we do with those things we box up that determines its success. If you put something in a box to avoid dealing with it, constantly keeping it out of focus and out of mind, you will have to face its contents at some point in your future. And, life being life, you know it will come back to bite you at a less-than-convenient time. In particular, what makes this difficult is that you may not be aware of this resurfacing. Let me explain. You're upset by something that happened recently. You're not quite sure why it's bothered you so much, but it has. Your feelings are very valid. Perhaps something similar happened in the past, something that at the time you chose to swallow and put away in a box and now something has happened in the present which has reopened this box. Those things that we put aside: where do they go? When we feel angry and we don't express it in a healthy way, where does that anger go? Does it just disappear? The benefit of counselling (or therapy or coaching- choose your poison) is that we are in a space safe to unpack and examine these things.

I never thought of myself as an angry person - in fact, I always felt quite the opposite. Growing up, seeing others get angry at times (and naturally so) I vowed not to be like that. I became a "silent seether". In other words, I kept it inside. I swallowed it down. But what goes in must come out. It may take years to digest (chewing gum, anyone?) but it will be metabolised at some point. And in those intervening years, perhaps we forget what it was that made us angry, or sad, or uncomfortable and so, when it resurfaces, we cannot understand it. So, no, compartmentalising in itself is neither good nor bad, but it is dangerous; it is something to be undertaken with hesitancy. No matter how much we push something under the rug and stamp out the lumps and bumps, it does not just disappear. So, if you - like me- prefer to put things in boxes because they are too painful to deal with at the time, remember to take them out. Examine them, even though it's painful. Take things out of the box in a controlled manner. Instead of letting the contents spill out uncontrollably, make a choice to look them head on.

For many many years after my dad died, I kept the memory of him out of focus. It was too painful to have the memory of him in anything other than a blur. Compartmentalising the details and days surrounding his passing was an act of pure and unashamed self-preservation. With time (and professional help) I have been able to unpack those emotions and memories and begin to look at them head on. Even now as I write this, I'm aware I'm clenching my teeth. My instincts are to avoid the pain contained within this box. But in these nine intervening years since my dad's death, I have pushed these boxes aside; I have compartmentalised my emotions as an act of self-preservation. So when I read Hindmarch's envy about others' ability to compartmentalise, I hesitated. Grief cannot be compartmentalised and gift-wrapped and placed prettily on the shelf. At some point, we must clear those shelves from our mind. There is no shame in packing, so long as we unpack; there is no shame in our tangled emotions, so long as we take the time and energy to unpick those knots. Much like Monica's secret closet (Friends series 8, episode 14 - did you think I was going to get through this without a Friends reference?) it was always going to be discovered. Denial can be a safe space when we need it to be. But at some point, having been healed by the slow sweetness of time, we must - and can - face the music. There is no rush, just the knowledge that this is necessary and healthy and healing. Oh, and professional input can help.

'Out of sight, out of mind'... until it's not. Be brave and start unpacking on your own terms. It may be slow and painful to look at things head on, but by processing them you can find peace and closure and softness and healing both now and for your future self. Be brave, and you will be okay.

Mindful tip: When we are mindful we are just bringing our attention to the present moment. Bringing awareness to whether we compartmentalise is not about judging ourselves. By being mindful of our thought patterns, we give ourselves the opportunity to be in control: when we notice something, we can change it- if we choose to. Something passive becomes active. Something unconscious is made known to the consciousness. This is the power of being mindful.