"Looks like we’re in for nasty weather…" – Bad Moon Rising by CCR
A few years back, I was summering at our cabin in the Great White North on a hot, humid day. The air was thick with the scent of greenery, heavy with the palpable threat of rain, and undergirded by an almost physical sense of uneasiness.
I was on my way back from town after picking up some supplies when I noticed the strange stillness around me. The high humidity muted the background sounds in a way I’d never experienced before, creating a stifling sense of oppression.
As I drove toward the small cabin, the sky near the horizon took on an alarming greenish yellow cast. Within minutes, a sudden burst of hail rattled against the roof of my car, piling up in white drifts in just a minute or two. I thought of my Egyptian Mau and pressed on, wanting to get home before the full storm hit.
Then, as I reached the crest of the big hill, I saw something chilling. Across the lake, dense black clouds were twisting into a funnel. A tornado was forming—fast. There was nowhere to hide from the 200 mph winds it could unleash.
I pulled over and scanned the sky. Years ago, I’d taken a college-level meteorology course, and I searched for more ominous signs like mammatus clouds, or an overshot anvil, both harbingers of intense destruction. The hail and heat alone were already bad omens, but the more the signs stacked up, the more I knew a nightmare could be unfolding.
Back on the horizon, the funnel cloud pushed downward, stretching toward the opposite shore. If it made contact with the ground, the stored energy would be unleashed, obliterating everything in its chaotic path.
I watched, silently praying, scanning for low-lying ground, like a ditch where I could take cover; anywhere to avoid being hurled a quarter mile in a lacerating swirl of debris. How quickly could I get my cat into his carrier and out of range?
Then, suddenly, everything shifted—almost as if the storm had changed its mind.
Within seconds, the funnel retreated. The sky began to return to normal, and in minutes, all was calm again.
So why am I telling you this?
Because we all face storms, but of a different kind.
I’m talking about emotional storms, the kind that roll in unexpectedly and shake us to our core.
These storms feel real, but they have no actual structure beyond our emotions. They are electrochemical disruptions. Just fluctuations in neural activity and neurotransmitters, and like the weather, they come and go.
They may seem overwhelming to you, but they are temporary experiences, and not your identity, not who you are.
When an emotional storm strikes, you don’t become the storm—you experience it. Just as bad weather can be disruptive and frightening, but ultimately passes, so do emotional storms.
Trying to fight a storm is pointless. Resisting emotions often intensifies them. Many people assume that because they feel something, it must be true. But just as the fear of a violent storm doesn’t mean it will last forever, feeling sad or anxious doesn’t mean your life is doomed.
We make our worst decisions when we mistake temporary emotional storms for permanent truths.
So what’s the solution?
Instead of identifying with the storm, observe it with curiosity. Ask yourself: Is this emotion passing through me, or am I holding onto it?
Just as an umbrella or shelter helps in a storm, healthy coping strategies help us weather emotional turmoil. Mindfulness, deep breathing, and perspective shifts like dissociation, allow us to watch the storm rather than be swept away by it.
The next time an emotional storm arises, try telling yourself: This is just passing weather. I can observe it without letting it control me.
You’ll find yourself feeling much better, much sooner.
- Mike Mandel
(Chris here: Did you know that Mike's entire "Mandel Trilogy" hypnosis bundle is included in the Brain Software Syndicate. The price to join is ridiculously low.)