One of the coping mechanisms I learned as a kid being raised in a dysfunctional home was to compartmentalize. I would tuck sadness away over here so I could function at school. I would hide shame over there while smiling and laughing with my friends.
I had no one to talk to except my best friend whom I’d met in 4th grade. But the problem was, she had a dysfunctional family also, so we learned to compartmentalize together. Rather than spend time in our respective homes, we were always together: riding bikes, roller-skating, climbing trees, playing with neighbor kids, or watching movies. When we were together, we felt like we could forget just for a little while.
When we got older, we talked on the phone to commiserate or vent or just cry about how our lives were so unfair. That’s what best friends were for but we were also young so we quickly moved on to more important subjects like boys, school dances, and this weekend’s sleepover.
I look back at the time in my life and wish I would’ve known how to process emotions in a healthy way instead of spending all of those years just shoving things to the side so that I could appear normal. The only times when I did allow my emotions to show were when my sister wore my clothes without asking or when a dog died at the end of the movie, or when I couldn’t get my hair done just right before school. (It was the 80s and “just right” took a LOT of time.)
I didn’t know I was an absolute mess on the inside because this was just what we did in my family. We pretended everything was great. It was like putting on a costume each day but because I’d done it for so long, it became hard to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. How did I feel about this or that? I never knew because I hadn’t been allowed to feel anything let alone talk about those feelings. The things I was allowed to do were shut up, get good grades, don’t argue, look pretty, and pretend like my life depended on it. And it did.
Hiding my emotions, whether through self-deprecating humor, distractions like books or TV, or drinking alcohol, eventually kept me from feeling anything at all. I always considered myself a “go with the flow” kind of person which I thought was a good thing. Turns out it was a way that I kept myself small, hidden away, and from being disappointed by others, yet again.
It wasn’t until I hit my 40s that I realized that this costume I had been given as a child with the requirement to play pretend at all times was no longer an option because I finally realized I had been slowly suffocating behind the mask.
I felt dead inside. I wanted to feel something…ANYTHING because it meant I was alive. That I was real and I hadn’t felt real for a very long time.
Over the last ten-plus years, I’ve learned that my emotions are the best part of me. They are what make me me. The hardest part about allowing myself to feel all the emotions has been the reentry, not for me, but for the people around me.
I have opinions about things. I share my feelings…A LOT, much to their dismay. But holding back is no longer an option.
I had moments like this when I was a kid but when no one cared enough to listen or what I was feeling was unimportant, I learned that being quiet and not sharing felt a lot less disappointing.
I now allow my emotions to flow because I know how damaging it is to my mental and physical health when I don’t. I know how important it is to sit in my feelings, to allow them to just be, and then process them when I’m ready. It’s actually what makes us human and for many of us, we’re very ill-equipped. Just look at social media comments to get a real-time understanding of how emotionally “mature” we are.
It can be lonely when others don’t “get” our emotions. It brings up some PTSD, I’m not going to lie but instead of going dormant like I used to do, I’ve sought connection and comfort where I can. For example, here on Substack or Threads where I’m finding women who feel like I feel, or calling friends and having two-plus-hour conversations.
I also have the dysfunctional urge to just move on, to put my head down and work, to ignore all that’s going on around me because having all of this emotion feels too overwhelming. Remember COVID? Egads. It was like a firehose in the face every single day: so much information, the feelings about that information, and then all the feelings about the future, about the unknown, about our health, about EVERYTHING!
So when do we know it’s time to move on? When do we decide we’re ready to not be sad anymore? Or to not feel mad, or disappointed, or overwhelmed?
I think we get to choose. If I want to be sad, I get to be sad. If I don’t want to be sad anymore, I can choose not to be but not by compartmentalizing or shoving things deep inside. There are things we can do that are helpful and healthy that allow us to move forward.
I chatted with Positive Psychology coach, Ann Imig, this past week on the podcast (listen here) and we talked about how we can change our neural pathways with specific tools to help get us out of our emotional ruts. We can lean into our strengths, disrupt old thought processes, and find meaning and purpose.
Shit is going to happen in life and a whole lot of it is stuff we don’t want.
We don’t want to get cancer but we can find meaning and purpose in it if we do.
We don’t want to experience divorce or heartbreak, but we can find meaning and purpose if we do.
We don’t want loved ones to pass away but we can find meaning and purpose if they do.
This is not “everything happens for a reason” because that is twisted. Instead, finding meaning and purpose in the shit things allows us to learn life lessons, provide inspiration, or maybe some much-needed change.
Another way we can change our emotional state is by getting into a flow state.
That can be through writing, creating something, exercising (hiking, running, walking, rowing, etc.), doing a puzzle, gaming, learning something new, gardening, cooking, etc.
Being “in flow” is great for our emotional well-being because it helps with:
Reducing stress and anxiety: Flow can help people refocus their thoughts away from stressful things and toward enjoyable ones. It can also create a sense of control and accomplishment, which can help reduce stress and anxiety.
Improving mood: People who experience flow are more likely to have a positive mood.
Increasing happiness: People who experience flow are more likely to be happy and satisfied with their lives.
Improving mental health: Flow can help protect against depression and burnout. It can also be a healing mechanism for people with a history of trauma.
Increasing creativity and productivity: People who experience flow are more likely to be creative and productive.
Promoting personal growth: Flow encourages people to develop their abilities and take on more complex tasks.
Being in a flow state is how we can disrupt negative emotions because it helps us focus on what makes us feel good. This is not the old saying “Fake it until you make it” but changing the way we see things.
Ann said something really important in our conversation that has stuck with me since. She said we often have a “bad day” because of one thing that happened. But what about the five other things that went well? Why don’t we pay attention to those instead and call it a good day?
It’s like we’ve created a filter of how we see things so what if we changed the filter (or got rid of it) and widened our lens, allowing us to see all the good that is also happening in our lives?
While I’ve learned, the hard way, that feeling our emotions is vital to our health and well-being, I also know that I can’t allow them to skew my vision.
The world is going to keep moving no matter what is going on in my daily life.
But how I flow through the world is truly up to me.
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If you want to learn more about Positive Psychology or perhaps even have a free 30 minutes consult with Ann (mention The AWEd Life podcast and she’ll bump that to 50 minutes), you can find out more here.
I'm halfway through the Pod and taught my 11yo a way to rethink his mindset on an airplane today... we practiced pressing our fingers together. (He has massive travel anxiety).
One of my go to books for the past year is Steven Kotler’s The Art of Impossible— it’s about honing your flow seeking skills and learning how to create it rather wait for it to hit you randomly.
I love it so much because it’s helped me be productive when my adhd gets in the way.
But now I’m wondering about the emotional side of it because it makes complete sense—I’ll be listening to your podcast next!