Moths have always been drawn to the light, often to their own detriment. I can relate.
For so long, I believed the answer to my discomfort was making it go away. I thought, “If I can fix it or control it, I won’t have to feel it.” It’s the same mindset that kept me running—running from feelings, from pain, and into quick fixes of distraction like alcohol, or unhealthy relationships with people I wasn’t a good match with but who were just, there.
Distraction, suppression, overriding, was my magic spell for numbing out the discomfort, like the moth trying to fly toward a distant light, trying to escape the darkness, only to find that the closer it gets, the more it risks burning out.
I still struggle with wanting to numb out. I have chronic pain, my brain often feels broken, our world is broken. Scroll, scroll.
But suppressing emotions sends the wrong message: “I don’t want to feel this.” It’s like telling your body that those feelings are a threat.
I was in what I call “moth mode”—fluttering around, avoiding shadows, trying to find relief in a place that didn’t exist. I’ve come to realize that grounding is the real magic spell for my nervous system. Grounding says: “It’s safe to feel this.”
Suppressing vs. Grounding
• Suppressing: “I’m overreacting. I need to get over it.”
• Grounding: “It makes sense I feel like this, given the context or my history.”
Now, instead of running, I try to ground myself in the moment, reminding myself that safety doesn’t mean I have to feel “ok” all the time. I trust that I can always find my way back to safety. If I don’t feel safe right now, I can create it within my body or bring myself to a safe haven—whether through journaling, forest bathing, or another practice—where I can feel safe, even if not completely okay.
There’s no way out but through.