Have you ever spent a lot of time around someone who only ever wants to focus on positive emotions and will go to the ends of the Earth to avoid addressing negative emotions? Have you experienced how it made you feel to be around those kinds of humans? If so, then you may very well resonate with what I’m going to describe in this post.
I’ve always had difficulty with folks who suppress their emotions. This has been particularly troublesome whenever I’ve felt upset or concerned about something and wanted to work through it, only for all of my efforts to be shut down by the other person. In addition to paying no mind to my emotions, they also ignored their own. At least, they attempted to ignore their emotions. If I continued attempting to discuss the issue, they would feel increasingly angry, which often made them yell at me and, sometimes, behave violently toward me. As a result, I still have trouble bringing up concerns, even with those who have always been receptive to talking through things or, at least, haven’t acted with hostility when I’ve attempted to do so.
The trouble continues. I’ve known at least a few who seem to want to forget the good stuff in their attempt to forget the bad stuff. This can happen when a loved one dies. While I want to do all I can to remember that loved one even if doing so is painful for a time, others may avoid talking about that person, shut down or exit conversations in which that person is mentioned, and either get rid of or at least keep out of sight any of their belongings. This does nothing to get rid of the underlying pain, however. It prolongs the pain, compounds it, and causes the person using this approach to be hypervigilant against anything that could cause the pain to surface. It also makes it incredibly difficult to talk with that person about the lost loved one, especially when talking helps me get through my struggles.
I’ve experienced this repeatedly since losing my dog Sawyer last year. Most of Sawyer’s toys, blankets, towels, and other belongings were packed up and put away the day he died. If it was up to me, all of that would have remained as it was during Sawyer’s final few days for at least a year after his death. None of it was in the way, all of it served to remind me that he was here for 11 years, and seeing it all vanish within hours of his death added another layer of pain to an incredibly painful situation; it was as if he had never been here in the first place. I would have much preferred to gradually pack his things up as I worked through the pain at my own pace.
If I still saw things the way I did up until a few years ago, I might have also attempted to avoid painful emotions around Sawyer’s death in the hope that doing so would eliminate the pain. At this point, I’ve learned that there’s nothing more painful than perpetually holding onto pain. With as much experience as I’ve gained in releasing pain through feeling all of it without resistance, constantly resisting painful emotions seems completely alien to me. It also puts me at odds with those who do it, particularly when they attempt to avoid anything that reminds them of a human, animal, or experience that we both shared.
When someone mentions Sawyer and talks about him with me, it doesn’t remind me that he died. It reminds me that he lived, and it fills me with joy whenever someone wants to hear stories about him, including stories about how he made me laugh, comforted me when nobody else would, greeted me excitedly after we’d been apart for some time, and made each day special by just being himself. Additionally, it shows me that others will continue remembering and appreciating him well into the future; that I’m not the only one keeping his memory alive. That is so incredibly comforting to me.
Regarding humans who are at odds with their emotions, I don’t trust them with my emotions. I’ve learned the hard way to not expect those who won’t even address their own emotions in a healthy way to do so with mine. Those folks tend to be emotionally unavailable, unwilling to sit with me through the hard times, focus excessively on their own opinions instead of showing any interest in what I think, and give bad advice when all I want is someone who listens with the intent to understand. When I’ve trusted them (often against my better judgment), I’ve been dismissed, ignored, mocked, insulted, and shown in other ways that what someone else wants me to do is always more important to them than what is good for me. No more.
This is why I’m very cautious when talking with others about my deepest, most painful feelings. I only do this with those whom I trust, and I trust those who have consistently shown interest in what I think and feel without trying to force their own perspectives onto me, tell me I’m wrong, belittle me, etc. Even then, I only occasionally talk with others about the inner machinations of my emotional life. Everything I’ve learned about emotional intelligence has almost entirely eliminated both the need and the desire to vent about my struggles. I’m much better able to handle all sorts of emotions than I was for most of my life, and thus don’t need someone else to help me through anything shy of the most painful experiences. It is such a relief that I no longer have to risk being hurt after sharing the most vulnerable parts of myself with just anyone. When I do share, I do so with those who can support me effectively because they’ve learned how to effectively support themselves in their own emotional journeys. While that won’t change my past experiences, it will create a much nicer future than I could have otherwise obtained.