Emotions have a bad reputation. We even refer to some of them as “negative,” when in fact what we mean is “painful.” Anger, fear, shame, sadness don’t feel good and if we are not guided in regulating and co-regulating them early on in our lives,…
For a long time, I thought I had a pretty great childhood. And in many ways, it was. My basic needs were met—I had food, shelter, parents who were physically present, we had fun vacations together, and I knew my mom loved me. So when I started struggling with anger and anxiety, I thought something was wrong with me. I believed I was just too sensitive, too reactive, too much.
“I don’t remember much from my childhood. I don’t think I can work on my trauma if I don’t have memories. How can I heal something I don’t even fully understand?”
As a trauma therapist, I hear something like this at least once every couple of months.
The first time I broke a glass in front of my husband, my heart started racing and I braced myself. As the glass shattered on the kitchen floor, I held my breath like I’d triggered a landmine. My mind pulled up the image of an angry male face from the cobweb-filled corner of my memory where I keep things I’d rather forget. And for a second, I could swear I heard the yelling.
A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law had a fire in her house. It was devastating. They lost most of their belongings overnight and had to scramble to find a new place to live—while still going to work, raising three young kids, and managing a hyperactive dog. It was chaos. Real, immediate, high-stakes chaos.
I hadn’t had a serious romantic relationship lasting more than three months until I was in my 30s. I always thought something was wrong with me, and that I wasn’t chosen because of a multitude of personal defects—both in my appearance and in how I conducted myself.
On a beautiful August afternoon in Buffalo airport, I found myself spiraling. I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides trying to swat away a single thought: “I’m failing, I’m failing, I’m a failure.”
If you’ve ever replayed a text you sent 47 times, convinced you used the wrong emoji…or if you’ve walked away from a conversation and thought, I definitely said something wrong and they think I’m the worst, you’re not alone.
Here’s a metaphor people living in San Diego will relate to: Emotions are like waves. They come and go; they have a beginning, middle, and end.
If we don’t interfere with this natural flow, science says that most emotions reach their peak and recede within 90 seconds. All we have to do is stay out of our own way and observe.
