Calm down.
You’re such a drama queen.
Don’t make such a big deal of it; you’re fine!
ARGGGH! Is there anything more maddening?
If you’re a highly sensitive person with a lot of emotions, congratulations! (Hiyee, I’m one too.)
Why congratulations? I know, I know, it’s not always easy to walk through life with a live wire of a nervous system, but I think this “burden” is actually a blessing and, if you know how to work with it, it can be a superpower.
I was recently coaching a client who was shamed for her feelings when she brought up an issue with someone close to her. Instead of addressing the root problem my client raised, they deflected by saying, “I refuse to engage with your emotions”. (By the way, this is a favorite tactic of narcissists and people with low empathy, but it’s also just a common, learned coping strategy that our suck-it-up culture widely supports.)
Unfortunately, this dirty trick is often pretty effective. Instantly, my client felt her face flush, a queasiness roiled her belly, and a mental fog rolled in. She lost her footing in the conversation and was engulfed by shame—a meta-emotional response that she picked up in childhood when her mother scolded her for being “so dramatic”.
Now she finds herself in conflict not with the other person but herself. She knew she had a valid objection and that her irritation was justified. But a wounded part of her unconsciously rose up in agreement with the accusation. Yes, the problem is me and my big dumb feelings. This internal divide made it impossible for her to problem-solve with this person and they left the matter unresolved.
After some gentle cognitive and somatic inquiry, we arrived at this strengthening statement, which she can turn to any time she’s tempted to judge herself for having feelings:
“All my emotions contain information, and that information is valuable to me.”
This phrase is powerful because it is always true, regardless of the situation. We don’t have to decide who is right or wrong to validate the existence of our emotions. (There’s a place for testing the validity of the story behind an emotion, and I’ll get to that in a minute, but acknowledging the feelings we are experiencing always comes first.)
It is inherently calming to acknowledge our feelings. Panic and anxiety dissipate. We feel lighter and more grounded. Our mental clarity returns.
Now we are better able to ask: What information does this emotion have for me?
I’ve been blessed with many “opportunities” to ask this question of my big feelings over the past few months. Nonjudgmental self-inquiry surfaced answers like:
I’m scared to have this surgery, and sad to see my body change.
I don’t think this business is viable anymore.
I’m afraid person x will be mad at me.
Your emotions might tell you:
I don’t like the way this person is treating me.
I hate this job.
I made a mistake.
I’m exhausted and I need to rest.
Here’s the rub: Not all information is accurate, and our feelings sometimes give us flawed data!
Every experience is a blend of internal and external elements. A huge part of what we feel is in reaction not to “outside stuff”—what’s happening right now—but to “inside stuff”—the meaning we make of it and the predictions we form about it.
Let’s say, for example, your emotions are telling you: This person is not safe. Maybe you notice that you have a nervous belly, sweaty palms, and a rising feeling of dread when you think of bringing up a delicate issue with them.
First things first: I want to validate that you are not making this up (even if it’s 80 percent “inside stuff”). But consider this: Your nervous belly, which is lovingly sending out “danger” signals to keep you safe, might actually be saying: This person reminds me of a time when I was not safe.
How can we tell the difference? It’s time to check the facts!
Has this person negated your right to your perspective, insulted you, or threatened you? If so, yeah, you’re not safe. Get out of there.
Or did they simply disagree with you, perhaps strongly?
Disagreement can be super scary in itself, especially if someone in your past attacked you when you expressed a difference of opinion. (Been there.) But are you being attacked right now? If not, just recognizing that fact is soothing.
Getting curious about our feelings can also deliver a wealth of information about our own unhealed trauma and unmet needs.
These kinds of situations always seem to light me up. There’s an open wound here.
I have a big Achilles heel when it comes to people being angry or irritated with me. The slightest hint of aggression really flips me out, because I’ve had close relationships with a few rageaholics in my time, and I’m still not over it.
But by a) noticing and validating my own anxious feelings and b) checking the facts, I’m much better able to avoid making things worse by shutting down or blowing up. I can hold onto my poise and make a sure-footed assessment of the situation.
The very coolest part is that acknowledging and validating our feelings doesn’t make us more self-centered or callous to the feelings of others. It makes us more empathic. We’re not trying to be right, we’re just trying to know the truth—and that naturally extends to wanting to know the other person’s truth, too. The aperture of understanding opens in all directions. No bad guys here, just humans, humaning.
Now, a word of caution: Acknowledging a feeling may initially make it flare a little hotter. Admitting I’m really sad right now might bring on a flood of tears, instead of the numbing effect of telling ourselves I’m fine when we’re not. But like an orgasm—stay with me here!—emotions that are allowed to move through us will rise, peak, and ebb away relatively quickly. It’s suppressing them that makes them stick around and wreck your peace.
All our emotions contain information, and that information is—or should be—valuable to us.
Why on earth would we want to cut ourselves off from this rich source of insight and personal power?
I’m no longer stuffing down my feelings, no matter how trivial the cause may seem. As long as it’s not disruptive to do so, I give them free rein to move through me in real time. An example: A few days ago I noticed that one of my dormant orchids put out a new shoot with buds on it. Yes! I’d kept this thing alive through a full year of just being a boring cluster of rubbery leaves, and now it’s flower time.
But the shoot was growing sideways, so I decided to straighten it and tie it to a stake.
It snapped.
Holding the slender little stalk with its tiny buds in my clumsy hands, I felt a surge of regret and sorrow well up in my chest. The old me would have brushed it off as a silly mishap not worth getting upset about. But I was already upset, and the new me was not about to swallow that lump in my throat.
Friend, I am not ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby—for about ninety seconds. And then I was done. The good clean remorse of an accidental orchid murderer, washed away with just a moment of emotional mindfulness.
If that makes me a drama queen, hand me my crown.
Coach with me
I’ve still got a couple of weekly spots set aside for coaching, which I love so much. While I’m still in the process of completing my ICF certification, sessions are half-price!
You don’t have to be a writer seeking publication to coach with me. We can work on just about anything that’s getting in the way of your best life, but my particular specialisms are:
Reinventing yourself, especially in midlife
Releasing past trauma and finally getting off the roller coaster
Sobriety, and the winding steps toward it
Creativity and writer’s block
But if you are working on a book and mapping out your publishing plan, we can blend general life coaching with publishing/editorial consultation.
If you’re curious, book a discovery call with me to find out if we’re a fit.
This was so helpful for me, Maggie. I have a highly sensitive 10 year old daughter and I am consciously trying to guide her towards emotional mindfulness (I love this term - hadn’t heard it quite like this before). It’s challenging for me because, historically, I am someone who suppressed all my feelings as a kid - and this still trickles into my adulthood. I want to show her another path.
So much resonates here and this is a gorgeous resource for me. Thank you. 🙏🏼
“Now she finds herself in conflict not with the other person but herself. She knew she had a valid objection and that her irritation was justified. But a wounded part of her unconsciously rose up in agreement with the accusation.” Guilty of this for so many years! Such a clarifying essay. Thank you!