Catharsis & Emotional Outlet

Human beings have anger, passion, grief. They have big emotions that need a place to be let out. Groups, especially radical or high-intensity ones, often provide a channel for that. Think of a political rally where everyone is shouting slogans and pumping fists. It’s a cathartic group release of frustration. Some extremist groups actually stoke the anger of their members intentionally, then direct it at a target (an out-group or enemy), giving members a sense of relieved aggression: “It’s not just you; we’re all furious, and we can lash out together.” This can be dangerously empowering and bonding. In less violent terms, even joining a passionate sports fan club and screaming at the TV together is a form of group catharsis. Maybe you’re politically active, or join your union and attend a few rallies. There’s also catharsis in shared grief or trauma. Support groups or movements can be built around a tragic cause to let members cry and heal collectively. Now, I have intense emotions too, but I’ve never felt comfortable expressing them in a crowd. If anything, group settings make me more inhibited emotionally (I’m too busy keeping my guard up). So where do my big feelings go? They tend to be released either in solitude or in very controlled, intimate contexts. Writing is a huge outlet. I pour my very being into my research papers, into my newsletters. I’ve written stories and essays that are essentially me processing feelings under the guise of fiction or analysis. Here’s where being an “observer” of groups rather than a participant has oddly given me catharsis: I often experience emotional release through media and art. For instance, watching Boy Throb’s saga, experiencing the emotional highs and lows of their journey from a safe distance (I don’t consider myself a throbber, nor do I even have Tik Tok) allowed me to think in a new way. It was as if I outsourced my catharsis to someone else’s story. I’ve realized I do this a lot: I get incredibly invested in books, shows, or even internet narratives. I might not sing at a concert with a crowd, but I will sob alone at a novel that touches a nerve. Some of my deep-dive “research” projects have also been, in hindsight, therapeutic catharsis. In the kink-related project I undertook, I created a fictional character and guided her through intense experiences (in a game world). There were moments of triumph and loss in that storyline that made me feel surprisingly real emotions. I essentially gave myself permission, through a proxy, to feel things I’d walled off. One could say I found catharsis in autonomy. Because I felt safe and in control, I could let myself feel anger (pause the game to rant in my notes about an unjust scenario) or joy (becoming invested in the characters met along the way). It’s not the traditional way to get an emotional high, but it worked. The difference is just like everything else: a radical group member might go to a rally to vent their rage at “the system,” whereas I’ll write a research paper to understand my emotions. Both of us exhale the toxic air, but one does it in a chorus and I do it solo. I sometimes wonder if my need for catharsis is less than average since I have fewer high-arousal experiences. But then I remember the sheer intensity of my private emotional moments and realize I’m just as cathartic… I just do it quietly, and in my own way.