You're not supposed to hold it all by yourself

Shared capacity is a basic human ability that helps us to hold the things that are too heavy to bear alone.

We talk a lot about "holding space" for others— as clinicians or just as human beings. It’s really not a phrase I use too often because it feels so cliched, but I really appreciate what it implies: a nonjudgmental and compassionate experience of just allowing someone to be their authentic, vulnerable self.

I visualize this as though I’m creating a circle around someone else so they can spill out a little bit more— not having to hold on so tightly to their persona; letting themselves relax a bit more, breathe more freely, maybe even rest a bit.

There’s also a deeper layer possible if we’re really holding space for someone— we’re not just holding space, but we’re holding them. Not necessarily literally (although it could certainly be helpful), but in the sense that we’re allowing the person to give us some of their experience so that we can hold it together. I visualize this as creating a circle with the other person, so that they can take out their tightly-packed troubles and share them out in the space between us. The burden remains the same, but the weight is less. We’re sharing our capacity.

Shared capacity

It works like this: Last year, I was at the beach with a friend. The waves were pretty big, and we stayed in the water for an hour, letting ourselves be tumbled around. I came back to shore before my friend did; I watched her playing in the waves, turning her smile to the sun. Afterward, as we scraped the sand from our skin and began the walk back to the car, she said, "You know, normally I would have gotten out earlier, but because you were here with me, I could stay in longer."

This is the natural human phenomena of shared capacity. Our trusted presence gives the other person courage, strength, enthusiasm, to experience what might otherwise be overwhelming.

We hold capacity for others in small ways all the time. Think about your relationships with others— when you go somewhere together, does one person normally drive? Or remember where the car is parked? Who’s good at getting the server’s attention? Figuring out the tip? If someone gets frustrated, can the other person calm them down, or validate their experience? These are all small ways that we can hold capacity for each other— using our strengths to make a shared experience easier between us.

Animals are natural co-regulators; we share capacity mutually!

"Sharing capacity" in this way also means that we can:

• Operate like an extra battery (lending folks our energy when they're low); If I’m a little tired, I know that I can walk further with a friend who’s energized.

• Provide extra storage for emotions— when feelings feel too big and threaten to overwhelm us, a friend or trusted therapist can help to hold our rage, grief, etc.

• Stabilize others like a grounding wire to help any discharged energy fizzle away harmlessly— when you really need to swear, scream, or throw something heavy, the right person can allow that energy to be expressed; it moves through them or around them without leaving any sticky residue.

• Carry hope— which can be the heaviest thing of all— until the other person is able to see that light at the end of the tunnel themselves.

I believe that as practitioners in helping relationships, our role is not only to be able to hold space for others in a caring way, but to share capacity for them as needed. Over time, the person we’re helping naturally expands their own capacity in some areas.

But we all need to be able to give and receive capacity at times throughout our life.

Neurobiology, attachment, & coregulation

We’re really not meant to hold it all alone. While neurodivergent folks may experience this differently (and if you have experience with this, I’d love to hear about it!), the neurobiology of attachment demands that we share capacity with each other.

In the first 24 months of life, human infants rely on their caregivers for most of their capacity. They’re unable to care for themselves physically, but they also are unable to regulate their nervous systems. The caregiver must be able to synchronize with the infant (that is, feel what they are feeling), and then regulate for them, through face, voice, and gesture. They up-regulate their positive states (encouraging play, joy, positive stimulation) and down-regulate their negative states (soothing, rocking, settling them when upset). Developmental trauma occurs if for any reason the caregiver is unable to do these things, or there’s an environmental failure of some kind; this can result in a host of future challenges for this human, from the physiological (a less-robust immune system) to the psychological (difficulty regulating their own nervous systems, which can be expressed in all kinds of symptoms we tend to pathologize, from eating disorders to depression to personality disorders). The Romanian orphan case of the eighties has a lot to tell us about how this works.

What’s key to know here is that this co-regulation— capacity-sharing!— doesn’t start and end in the first 24 months. It can and should continue throughout the life cycle, and a failure in those first 24 months can be mitigated through later relational experiences. That’s right— it’s never too late to co-regulate.

Who shares capacity with you?

Since leaving Instagram, I noticed that I’d been feeling a bit more isolated. I wasn’t much of a scroller on social media, but I did find it fun to share stuff in my stories and to engage in small but meaningful exchanges with other folks. As a die-hard introvert, that felt like a non-draining way to connect. I miss that; I don’t get a lot of comments on my Substack notes (yet 🤞🏻), but I really love when I do. It helps me to feel like I’m not just isolated and alone on this side of the computer screen; I have more capacity to keep going because you’re there with me.

It’s made me think about the friends and family that I receive from in different ways; each has their own strength and can help me to hold different parts of my experience. It’s an ongoing project to reach out when I need to. We'll be talking more about that next week.

I also shamelessly and enthusiastically receive capacity from my therapist, a Jungian analyst in Toronto (she’s amazing). Paying someone for co-regulation or shared capacity doesn’t make it less effective; in fact, it can actually make it a cleaner and simpler exchange. I know how much time I have and that she is adequately compensated. For a lot of folks, this is a great way to practice coregulation (receiving capacity) when it’s not been modeled well in other parts of their life.

Questions to consider: Who do you hold space for? With whom do you share capacity? Which parts of yourself or your experience are you able to share? Is there anybody with whom you can really be your complete self?

Practitioners or helping-profession-folks: what’s your experience of this? How do you share capacity with your people?

Looking forward to hearing your reflections, as always. I’ll see you next week!