We call every RV park within a 30-mile radius.
Zero vacancies, except for this place.
And as soon as we drive up, the weird vibes wash over us.
But it was a long day on the road, and the thought of having power, water, and sewer hookups is too enticing.
So, we overlook the peculiarities and pay our fee at the office.
I pull the RV around and start backing into our awkwardly positioned spot at the front of the park.
The sun’s in my eyes.
I briefly block the road.
Then, I hear a loud squeal.
Energy shifts.
I see a black Nissan Altima speeding up the main road, traveling at what seems like 30 miles an hour over the residential speed limit. All four windows are rolled down. It’s occupied by four teens clearly seeking trouble.
The office door flings open as they pass the main building to my left, and the owner sprints toward the passing car. The teens slow down long enough to taunt the owner and flip him off before speeding back up and bearing down on me quickly.
Fully loaded, there was little I could do other than wait in the middle of the road for whatever was about to happen, to happen.
Thirty feet from the side of our truck, the driver slams on the brakes. The Altima’s front dips, and its tires squeal before the bumper jerks to a stop not far from my door. All four occupants yell at me incomprehensibly. The setting sun glimmers off their hood.
I have zero idea what’s going on. While the smoke still rises from the Altima’s tires, I step outside the truck and exchange tense words with the group.
Then, almost as quickly as they arrived, they stop yelling, hop back into the Altima, reverse, and drive around the front of my truck, through someone’s—occupied—spot, exit the park, and head down the main road, squealing all the way.
We take a moment to regain our bearings.
Fearing they’d cause more trouble after we set up for the night, we decide to request a refund and try our luck elsewhere.
After getting a run-down of the situation from the park’s owner, we barrel out of there.
Speeding toward the freeway, I’m furious.
My knuckles are white against the steering wheel. Jaw clenched so tight it hurts.
And I’m driving way too fast for the conditions, especially considering the 9,000-pound RV I’m towing.
My ex reaches toward the back seat, holds our girls’ hands, and repeats that it will be ok.
Here’s the thing: I’m not mad at my family at all.
I’m amped up. Overstimulated. And unable to healthily process my confusion, which leads to frustration. And when I’m frustrated, I’m angry.
So, instead of reassuring my children and helping them process their own confusion, I’m just adding to it. Instead of comforting them, I’m scaring them. Instead of reassuring them, I’m making them feel like they’re the sole reason for my fury.
Instead of their father, I’m their enemy.
Unbalanced Emotions = Unbalanced Life
I wish that this level of unrestrained anger was a one-off occurrence. But it happened repeatedly.
Time and again, I reacted to everything the world threw at me with one of two possibilities:
Indifference (it wasn’t worth my time or energy), or
Hypersensitivity (it was the only thing worthy of my time and energy)
Either my emotions (and the circumstances surrounding them) rolled like water off a duck’s back, or I absorbed every ounce of them and was enitrely consumed by their weight.
I either felt zero emotions, or I ran away at a full sprint. With anger. Drugs. Work. Adrenaline. Travel. You name it.
And I frequently waffled between the two at the drop of a hat.
Consequently, I always felt like shit. Which made everyone around me feel like shit, too.
I’m not talking about feeling tired, sick, or mentally “underwater” all the time, although those sensations were undoubtedly part of the picture.
I’m talking about bone-deep, hollowed-out exhaustion. A profound depletion that affected every layer of my being. Deep dissatisfaction, on a fundamental level.
Like living behind thick glass, my body was present, but my mind was usually far removed.
Why? Because running from myself left zero room to process normal—and not-so-normal—events with equitable understanding. Or to respond to these events with emotional balance.
Here’s the thing: Unlike physical running, where our body eventually depletes its energy, and we must stop, rest, and refuel, we can psychologically run unabated for years.
And without realizing how much energy we continuously devote to the task, we leave ourselves mentally exhausted.
As a result, we have little availability to process our “shadow parts,” build resilience, develop self-compassion, craft the ability to hold space for others, or reframe our perspectives.
In short, we drastically stunt our ability to grow.
How to Balance Your Emotions**
The question, then, becomes: What are you running from that’s making you feel like shit?
What’s consuming your psychological reserves, leaving you fundamentally drained, damaging your relationships, and stunting your growth?
Maybe you don’t know at this point. Maybe you do.
Either way, you recognize that you hate the way you feel—yet you’re not doing anything about it.
Even in a best-case scenario, you know that inaction will only keep you stuck.
But I get it. When I was deeply entrenched in my suffering, I had zero idea where to begin.
On top of that, there was great comfort in just staying where I was. Sure, I was miserable, but at least it was familiar misery.
Perhaps you can relate.
If so, and you’re also looking for a mindful way out, I’d recommend starting with your own misery:
1. Learn to sit with discomfort.
The only way out is through.
Or, more accurately, through embracing.
Right now, you run from your difficult emotions, which causes deep problems in your life. Therefore, to eliminate these problems, you must take the opposite action: learn to sit with discomfort.
When you first lean into your uncomfortable emotions, you’ll quickly realize that you run in all kinds of ways: You might reach for your phone when you’re bored. Turn to food when you’re stressed. Dive into work when you’re anxious. Scroll social media when you’re lonely. Become frustrated and angry when faced with something you don’t want to do.
In a lot of ways, our automatic “running” responses work because they offer immediate relief. But in the long run, they avoid the task at hand and only postpone our suffering.
Therefore, it will feel impossible when you first sit with your challenging emotions. Every fiber of your being will scream for escape—demand that you do anything other than remain present with curious awareness.
But like developing a new muscle, your capacity will grow stronger every time you practice.
This will also provide a solid foundation for even deeper work.
2. Identify your emotional patterns.
Once you shine the bright light of awareness on your difficult emotions, you’ll start noticing recurring themes, such as:
Common triggers – Situations that bring about your challenging emotions
Habitual responses – Methods you’ve relied on to relieve the discomfort caused by these emotions (i.e., the ways you “run”), such as drugs and alcohol, work, and overeating
Stories you commonly tell yourself – “Things aren’t as bad as they seem,” “I’m totally in control of the situation,” “My emotions protect me,“ and “I can’t change,” are common rationalizations that keep us stuck
By remaining willing to sit with your uncomfortable emotions and learn what they have to teach you, you build emotional literacy and increase your emotional resilience.
3. Practice, practice, practice.
“Opportunities are usually disguised as hard work, so most people don't recognize them.” – Ann Landers
If you’re looking for quick relief from your suffering, mindfulness can certainly help.
But if you’re seeking long-term emotional resilience, including reaching a point where your non-reactions to challenging scenarios become automatic, it will take some very hard work. Repeatedly.
Many times in life, I’ve fallen into the trap of believing that I could study all the information or learn about all the techniques without fully applying them to my own life. Then, expecting my problems to disappear magically.
I have a 100% failure rate using this approach. And you will, too.
Instead, you must integrate mindfulness and meditation into nearly every facet of your life and practice them as often as you can without burning out. If you have a practice but can’t seem to make it stick, this article is a great launching point:
Do the Work: Avoid Avoidance
Emotional avoidance doesn’t work.
Because the very things you avoid, only grow. You might think you’re taking away their power, while you’re exponentially increasing it—and exhausting yourself in the process.
Eventually, these uncomfortable emotions become unwieldy and grip your life in ways you could have never imagined. And it takes so much psychological and spiritual energy to continue running that you end up deflated and feeling like shit all the time.
The good news is that emotional balance—and the freedom it provides—is yours for the taking.
Mindfulness can turn your emotional avoidance into emotional intelligence.
Consider this your invitation to begin.
** Important Note: While these techniques helped me tremendously, I am not a licensed mental health professional. If you're dealing with intense emotions or trauma, please consult a qualified therapist or mental health professional before attempting. They can determine which strategies are safe and appropriate based on your specific circumstances.
Good article, and I'm sorry you had to deal with that unpleasant experience at the RV park.
I have heard that if you do not do the work and just try to cope, eventually things are likely to hit a breaking point and when what is inside spills out, it can be quite painful. It was for me at least.
I hope more people read this and learn how to avoid avoidance as you elegantly put it.