The Lie Behind Emotional Regulation
Before I get back to work, I came across something that made me think for a while.
And I think it is a very important realization for the play I am writing right now.
What if we didn't actually learn emotional regulation?
What if we only learned how to become emotionally acceptable?
What if we hide behind silence, forgiveness, or keeping the peace because those feel like the safest options?
If we stay silent and never express our true feelings, we are less likely to get into trouble.
Because emotional reactions always came with consequences.
Using my own life as an example, as always.
Whenever I got angry and tried to set boundaries, I received pushback.
I was told that I was aggressive.
That they only wanted what was best for me.
That I couldn't behave like that because they were older, wiser, or knew better.
So I learned that I had only two options.
Either I kept my mouth shut, said nothing, and quietly did things my own way anyway...
Or I became even more aggressive, even toward the most genuine curiosity.
There was nothing in between.
I never learned how to set boundaries in a way that was firm and powerful without stabbing someone straight through the heart.
Unfortunately, that is something I am very good at.
Stabbing people right through the heart.
I am not proud of it.
Many times I also chose silence because I didn't want to hurt other people.
But that turned out to be an even worse strategy.
(Meanwhile, I am trying to eat a fucking sandwich, but I can barely open my mouth. Someone save me, please...)
So I chose silence.
I chose calmness.
I thought I was protecting other people from my feelings.
Whiiich...
TADAM...
Was actually all about protecting myself from their reactions.
Because what always happened whenever I showed my wrath?
1. I received so much pushback from authority—not from logic—that I never had a real chance to defend myself.
2. The other person hid inside their shell and never told me their side of the story. Even though I know it always takes two to tango. I can be REALLY difficult. I know that. And I am not afraid to admit it. But if I wanted to understand what the other person actually wanted or needed, I felt like I had to hide my own feelings first, so they would feel safe enough to tell me the truth.
Which is the fucking foundation of solving any problem.
3. The other person assumed I was rejecting them.
Holy fuck.
No.
I was just angry.
I wanted to let my anger out.
Put it down.
And then move forward together.
So I started offering forgiveness before I had actually put down my own anger and baggage.
The forgiveness was always genuine.
I am a kind person.
In the end, I forgive almost everything because life is simply too short to stay in conflict forever.
But I also have the right to express my anger.
I just never knew that.
So maybe my self-control was never really emotional regulation.
Maybe it was fear.
Fear of what my anger might cause.
Fear of causing damage that could never be repaired.
Nobody ever knew how to hold my anger.
And maybe...
I never learned how to hold it either.
This is actually something really valuable that I can use in The Raccoon in the Rabbit Hole.
Showing how the main character gradually reaches emotional freedom as she starts walking her own path.