“Cry as many times as you need to. It is a universal healing balm for the soul.” ~Karla McLaren, The Language of Emotions: What Your Emotions Are Trying to Tell You
A few years ago, a good friend of mine invited me to his 6-year-old daughter’s birthday party.
As I walk through his front door, I hear the cheerful sounds of children running around, their little feet clattering across the hardwood floor as they deftly avoid the gift-filled table in the living room. He welcomed me.
Their parents seemed equally excited, and many were enjoying the chance to finally have an adult conversation (even if they were interrupted every few minutes by young children).
My friend’s daughter was especially excited for her special day.
At one point, she jumped down the stairs carrying a giant helium balloon shaped like an exotic parrot. She proudly paraded around with the string tied to her hand, followed by a gaggle of children begging to hold the string “for just a few minutes.”
By this time most of the guests had moved to the backyard to enjoy the sunny weather. I was chatting with a friend on the balcony, watching the festival in full swing, when I suddenly heard a scream.
I turned around to see what all the fuss was about. To my surprise, I saw my favorite parrot balloon gently float away, defiantly dancing its bright colors against the clear blue sky. And right below that was my friend’s daughter who was 6 years old and was having a full-blown meltdown.
Undeterred, my friend went to the middle of the backyard where her daughter was standing and brought her back to a quiet spot on the porch next to where I was sitting.
I wanted to give them privacy, but the mediator in me was secretly happy to hear how he would handle this predicament. I was used to dealing with conflicting adults. That said, I had very little experience with meltdowns six years ago.
He bent over and told her gently, “You’re upset, but it’s okay,” I said, listening intently. You might be upset, but that’s not the case since you have a guest in your home. Would you like to go to the room on the upper floor? You can be as upset as you like there. Would you like to come with me and give me a hug? ”
The daughter stopped crying, sniffled several times, and shyly nodded “yes” to her father’s offer.
Although well-intentioned, the guests only added to her distress with their anxious looks and nervous energy. At that moment, it was clear he wasn’t just trying to make the party go smoothly. He also focused on making sure his daughter had a quiet, private space to decompress, away from the well-meaning but overwhelming concerns of the crowd.
My mouth was hanging open at this point.
You know, I grew up with well-intentioned messages that I shouldn’t feel certain emotions. “Don’t get angry” and “Don’t cry” were common words in my family. This taught me that emotions are not something to accept, but something to be ashamed of.
Instead of processing my emotions, I seem to be building up an archive of unrecognized emotions inside. I wanted them to magically disappear, but they stayed there, messing with my psyche, seeping out at the most inopportune moments. Many of us probably grew up receiving these kinds of well-meaning but emotionally inhibiting messages.
In the process, have we learned to silence the very parts that make us human?
I blamed my parents for denying me the ability to effectively process my emotions. Sometimes I would get frustrated and ruminate about why they didn’t encourage me to express my feelings. Why is sensitivity so unpleasant?
But now I realize that’s a very one-sided view of things.
My parents’ struggles were much worse than mine. With only $200 left in their bank account and the burden of survival on their shoulders, they fled their home country as refugees. There was no time for this thing we now call “emotional well-being.”
Their world was about surviving the next day, finding work, shelter, food, and everything else to build our lives from scratch. In that context, emotions were a luxury they could never afford. They weren’t trying to silence me. They were trying to protect me from the harsh realities I face every day.
Although I understand this intellectually, these deep-seated patterns of oppression remained ingrained within me over the years.
As adults, we often unconsciously send the same messages to ourselves as we did as children. We distract ourselves from our emotions instead of processing them. Are you sad? I’m sure there’s a great new series that I’d like to binge-watch. Are you angry about something? Why not take another look at your online shopping cart?
A little distraction never hurt anyone. But if that’s the only strategy we use, it short-circuits our emotional processing and prolongs and worsens our emotions.
I don’t know what my friend said or did in the room with my daughter. I think he gave her a big hug and let her little heart scream so she could properly grieve the loss of her special balloon.
What I do know is that she came back to the birthday party calm and smiling and was able to enjoy the rest of the celebration with her friends, including the birthday cake, regular balloons, and presents.
This experience made me wonder about all the moments in my life I’ve missed due to unprocessed emotions.
How many experiences, big and small, have I failed to appreciate because they triggered an archive of unprocessed emotions?
What hidden costs was this having on my relationships, work, and happiness?
At the end of your life, how will you feel about the time you missed out on not living your life to the fullest?
As I pondered these questions, I pretended to admire my beautiful backyard and stared into space.
When I got home that night, I made a life-changing decision.
Whenever I felt like that girl who lost her balloon, I decided to take some quiet time and try to feel my emotions. I tried to feel especially unpleasant things, such as disappointment due to unmet expectations, frustration due to work stress, and sadness due to the loss of something important.
Diving headlong into the depths of pain isn’t always fun. Sometimes you need to take a break and use distraction tactics to your advantage. In those moments, I remind myself that being perfect isn’t important. It is about being whole.
My hope is that at the end of my life, when I look back on my life, I will see that I embraced every emotion that humans are designed to feel. Thanks to this, I was able to enjoy life more, feeling calm and smiling like that adorable 6-year-old girl.
So I’m curious: What have you learned about emotions from your children in your life?
