No crying.

You sound like a baby.

Forget about it.

You’re fine.

What’s the matter with you?

You’re too sensitive.

Things I’ll never say to my kids. As a kid myself, I was very sensitive. And very attached to my mom. Separation anxiety was real for me. Being emotional at home was always okay. But I remember going to pre-school and having my first memory of not being normal. The more I read about ADHD/Neurodivergence in females, the more experiences I can tie to that. I was in pre-school, it must have only been the first week or two. Our teacher had a bunch of easels set up for painting. The class was all painting and when time was up, our teacher called us to the rug. I remember feeling extremely anxious because I wasn’t done with my painting. How could I go onto the next task if I wasn’t finished with the one in front of me. I continued painting. My teacher asked me to come sit at the rug with the rest of the class. I burst out in tears. I didn’t know to ask if we were going to have more time later to finish. She was very kind in the moment BUT later in the week, my mom asked me why I was crying in class. I immediately felt ashamed and couldn’t believe my teacher would tell my mom. It felt like I was in trouble with my teacher. I’m sure my mom was just trying to figure it out but I felt like my teacher must be upset about it, if she talked to my mom.

That was the first of many line items that I categorized in the “it’s not safe to feel your feelings list”.

My mom saved all my report cards and my pre-school, kindergarten, and 1st grade teacher all noted that I was very sensitive and should work on that…

WHAT

I started laying bricks that day. Bricks around my feelings.

I was a “good kid”, other than terrorizing my siblings, but that was mostly normal?

Learning quickly that I could impress my teachers with how smart I was, rather than how emotional I was. So, I was the best at every subject. I got student of the month countless times. I was always an example in class. I was testing so high that principals were calling my parents to move me up grades or to attend gifted programs.

It distracted from the anxiety I carried around about being triggered to cry. If I was the best, there was nothing to be upset about. Of course, I didn’t know I was anxious. I thought I was weird.

By the time I got to middle school, social hierarchy was much more complicated. Anxiety got a hold of that. I’d go home and flip to the back of my bible and find verses about feelings. My conclusion was, feelings are bad. Verse after verse after verse, made me feel bad about feeling things. I read ALLLLLL of the Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul books. Go ahead and feel your feelings in this book and then put it on the shelf…

So many of us aren’t taught how to regulate our emotions. I’m thankful that my parents always let me just be me, but in my head, it was only okay at home. We aren’t taught to really feel them. What that looks like. How to process. So we don’t. For me it just came out in tears and a lump in my throat.

And then I got to high school. I learned how to flip the emotion switch off. It felt like a superpower. I thought I had mastered something. Well into my 20s, I felt like I had the key. Just don’t feel it. Don’t let things bother you. I had rules for myself. I was allowed to cry in the shower or as I was going to sleep. No one can see.

But that’s not sustainable. That’s not real. Your body keeps track of your feelings. Anxiety and OCD manifested. Regularly I’d want to throw up from all of the feelings swirling in my body. Sometimes I’d hyper fixate on an activity (school work, a craft at home), something I had control of.

My poor best friends and sorority sisters were on the ugly end of things sometimes. I’d have so much built up and because they were my safe space, eventually a night would come around and I’d just cry on the kitchen floor, a bathroom floor, an empty tub all night. I felt crazy. They really didn’t know that the small thing I said I was crying about, was really about a thousand other things.

What’s it all mean? Just this past week I had some strong feelings come up about something I had really worked through. I felt them. I noticed where I felt it in my body. I self regulated (crying, several deep breaths followed by a body scan, and then I wrote about it abstractly). I didn’t let myself hyper fixate on it. I didn’t try to dissect every thought flying around it. No woulda, coulda, shoulda. I let it be. That’s healing. That’s the growth. I thought… how lovely it is to feel like my actual self. The little girl who cried when she had big feelings. And now the woman who does the same. It’s not weak. It’s strong. It’s courageous. It’s empowering.

I never really happy cried until I learned to regulate my emotions. What a gift. The feeling of being so full of joy that tears come out as a release. It’s the beauty of it all. It’s more than just feeling the sad feelings or angry feelings. It’s also about allowing yourself to feel pure happiness. Pride. Love beyond measure.