Peer Reflections

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Category: Peer Reflections

  • The Messy Middle of Anger

    Peer Reflection:

    Looking back, I rarely remember what the arguments were about, just the intensity of the anger, how it hijacked my body, and the shame that followed. I remember the heaviness. The lashing out. The aftermath of emotional wreckage, like I had turned into someone I didn’t recognize.

    I didn’t know how to name emotions. I didn’t know how to sit with discomfort. I only knew how to explode or escape.

    For me, anger wasn’t just yelling. It was numbing with alcohol and drugs. It was self-harm. It was shutting down and running away. Anything to avoid the more painful emotions hiding underneath: grief, fear, loneliness, rejection. I didn’t feel heard. I didn’t feel like I mattered. And when rage took over, I felt ashamed of the destruction, yet unsure how to stop it, almost like I didn’t understand what was happening, or how I lost control so easily.

    The Turning Point

    The turning point came when I began noticing how my reactions and outbursts were affecting the people around me.

    When I first started trying to change, it felt so uncomfortable. Even now, writing about it, I’m squirming in my chair. Starting a new pattern is awkward. It can feel like you’re betraying yourself. That’s why so many people stay stuck.

    When anger rises and the thought enters your mind, “This is anger,” or “I need to take a break,” you’re in the moment of choice. For me, that meant convincing every atom in my body to pause. My rational mind told me to walk away. My emotional mind screamed, “If you stop, the other person wins. The problem won’t get solved.”

    But here’s the truth: that messy middle is where the rewiring begins.

    It all Starts with Noticing

    It started with noticing—recognizing when my body was shifting. A clenched jaw. A hot face. Racing thoughts. I began naming it: “I’m getting angry.” That moment of awareness gave me a sliver of choice.

    I tried taking breaks. At first, I didn’t know how. I’d storm out, slam doors, cry in the bathroom. But slowly, I learned to say, “I need 15 minutes to calm down. I’ll come back when I can think clearly.”

    Did I do it perfectly? No. Sometimes I raised my voice anyway. Sometimes I didn’t return when I said I would. But every attempt planted a seed. I messed up. I tried again.

    Gaining More Insight

    And something surprising happened along the way…

    I realized not everyone could hold space for my emotions, even when I expressed them calmly. Some deflected, gaslit, changed the subject, or blamed everything on me. That was painful, but also clarifying.

    Emotional regulation helped me see who was safe enough to hear my truth and who wasn’t.

    So I kept going. I kept practicing. I learned to take breaks before the breaking point. I learned to speak up, even while flooded with emotion. And most importantly, I learned to sit in that messy middle without letting shame swallow me whole.

    That was The Old Me

    Now, I’m grateful that these old feelings feel foreign. It shows how far I’ve come.

    I remind myself: I am safe. I am calm. I am different. I make healthier choices now.

    The scars the rage monster left behind? They’re still there, just under the surface, but they don’t own me anymore.

    I’ve learned to pause. To notice the rising heat. To respond with intention. I use my voice with care. I take breaks when I need them. I repair when I misstep. I don’t let shame write the story.

    I still have work to do. I can still be sharp. But I no longer explode. I no longer hurt people just to release what I’m feeling.

    That was the old me.

    And now? She’s grounded, aware, and in control.

    And I’m so proud of her.

  • Emotional First Aid: Sadness

    Grief and loss are never easy to move through. However, they can be navigated with grace, hope, and support. Today, I want to share my lived experience of maneuvering and walking alongside grief.

    Wearing the Emotion

    When I was experiencing sadness, I had a habit of wearing the emotion. If I was sad, I believed that sadness was all I was allowed to be. So I cried, I stayed in bed, and I sat with my sadness. That became my entire world.

    Consequently, the problems that arose were too many to count. I lost motivation. I didn’t eat because I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t laugh because I thought it would be a betrayal of what I had lost. This went on for several months.

    I had forgotten that the person I lost would have seen me in that state and thought, “‘Come on, don’t do this to yourself.” Of course, they would’ve wanted me to live my life to the fullest and have joy,  but in the deepest throes of mourning, it felt as if I was frozen in grief, unable to live.

    Gaining Insight and Truth

    It took several gentle conversations with my support human before things slowly began to shift. I learned that the pain was too much to bear—it was supposed to be too much.  The amount that I was hurting was equal to the amount of love I shared with the person I lost. But I learned there was another way of handling and maneuvering through the loss.

    One day, someone offered me this metaphor: “When you put your hand on a hot stove, you immediately pull it away. But with sadness, you left your hand there.”

    I wasn’t literally burning my hand—but emotionally, I was. I kept myself in that pain without even realizing I could shift. I was gently reminded not to leave my hand on the stove.

    Practicing the Skills

    That’s when I was introduced to skills—ways of leaning into the discomfort for a time, and then leaning out again. For me, the skill of distraction worked wonders. I was encouraged to try things that might help me get my mind off the constant pain of loss.

    I found a simple hobby: diamond dotting- A meditative hobby where you place tiny colored gems onto a canvas, one by one. At first, I cried while doing it. But it required just enough focus that it gave my mind a break from the overwhelming grief. I’d place each tiny gem on the canvas, one at a time, and the rhythm of it helped me breathe again.

    I’d work on it for a while, then get up and do something else. When the sadness washed over me, I let it. But only for a time. Then I returned to the diamond dotting. Little by little, life started moving again. My heart started healing.

    New & Healthy Pattern

    I was giving myself space to grieve—but not letting the grief consume me. And eventually, that became my way of processing loss.

    Years later, when another wave of grief hit me, something beautiful happened. The pattern returned. I was able to function through the grief while still honoring it. I created something beautiful while thinking about the person I had lost. And when it was finished, I held it in my hands and whispered, “I made this for you. While missing you. While healing through you.”

    That project didn’t erase my grief. But it reminded me that I can create through my loss. I can live without betraying what I loved.

    A dear friend of mine once shared their own grieving ritual; When they’re grieving, they go outside and find a new place to sit and birdwatch—somewhere unfamiliar. It forces them to focus on their surroundings. And in that space, they’ve spotted birds and creatures they’ve never seen before. It gives their brain something else to engage with.

    Hope Moving Forward

    That’s what healing can look like.

    We don’t have to stay on the stove.
    We don’t have to stop feeling to start living.
    We just have to find one small thing that lets us breathe through the loss. If one thing doesn’t help—try something else.
    Your process is allowed to be messy, gentle, quiet, creative, slow.
    But you’re allowed to try. You’re allowed to live.

    I’ve learned to walk alongside grief instead of letting it pull me under. There are still days when sadness crashes over me. When sadness arises, I simply ask, “Hey there, grief. What do you want to show me today?”

    Grief doesn’t go away. But we can learn to live with it in a way that honors our loss and celebrates our life. You don’t have to walk through this alone.

  • Intro: Mental Health First Aid

    During my recent depression ride, I started thinking about creating a sort of Mental Health First Aid Kit—specifically for the four core emotions I mentioned back in April: sadness, anger, fear, and happiness. So that’s what we’ll be diving into next week.

    Here’s what the new weekly rhythm will look like:

    • Tuesdays –Peer Support providing actionable steps and skills to try when you’re feeling one of these emotions.
    • Wednesdays – A Peer Reflection of how those skills looked in my own life, and how I’ve adapted them to fit my personality and way of life.
    • Thursdays – An artistic interpretation or creative inspiration based on the week’s emotion.

    I’m so glad to be returning to writing and creating again. It means a lot to be able to share life in its rawest, realest form with you. Even as a Peer Support mentor and mental health writer, I’m not immune—I still need to use my skills every day to maneuver through the storms.

    I share the real and the raw because I believe in authenticity. I want my dearest readers—and anyone who struggles with mental health—to truly know:

    Even when the going gets tough, the stars of hope are always shining, just waiting for you to notice them.

  • My Walk with Happiness

    Before understanding happiness

    I had been depressed for a long while—it was a postpartum thing. Then one day, my darling husband told me we could finally purchase an electric fireplace for our living room. He worked overnight shifts and slept during the day, so I recruited some close family friends to help assemble the unit.

    When they arrived, I was thrilled—genuinely, overwhelmingly thrilled. I was skipping around the house, radiating joy like a child on Christmas morning. It felt good to feel that way again. But then, one of the individuals made a comment:
    “Your happiness seems to be too much for the situation.”

    Just like that, the air left my lungs. It was such blatant judgment—of my happiness, my expression, my being. I shut down. They finished building the fireplace and left, but the joy I had felt was gone. The balloon that had been floating so high inside me popped in an instant. I sank. I went back to bed, unable to even place the unit or decorate the mantel—something I had looked forward to for days.

    Their comment made me feel stupid, small, and confused about happiness and joy. Looking back now, I realize that their words shouldn’t have held so much weight. They didn’t know my story. They didn’t know how long I had been dreaming of that fireplace. They didn’t know I was clawing my way through postpartum depression. And honestly, they may not have had the emotional capacity to hold space for someone else’s joy.

    Moving Forward

    From that moment forward, I started to notice how others responded to my joy. It was big. It was bold. And sometimes, it made people uncomfortable. But most people don’t know my past. They don’t know the dark places I’ve crawled out of or the heaviness I’ve carried. Life hadn’t given me many reasons to celebrate, so when joy finally showed up, I wanted to feel every ounce of it.

    “The worst kind of person is someone who makes you feel bad, dumb, or stupid for being excited about something.” – Taylor Swift

    So many people are struggling to find even a flicker of happiness in their lives. Why in the world would anyone try to take that away from someone? These days, I let my joy overflow. I don’t care who it splashes on. They can judge me if they want to—my little heart needs to express happiness in the ways that matter to me. As long as I’m not hurting myself or others, I will celebrate freely and fully.

    I Am Still Learning

    To be honest, happiness is still one of the emotions I struggle with most. It’s not that I’m a negative person—it’s that it’s hard to let my guard down enough to fully feel the moment. I’m still learning. I’ve been bringing this into sessions with my therapist because I want to be honest—with myself and with you, my readers.

    So often, when happiness finds me, it shows up hand-in-hand with grief. Like when something good happens, and I immediately think of the loved ones who aren’t here to share in the joy. Or times in my past when I thought I was happy, only to find out later it wasn’t real. The joy is there—but it’s complicated. It’s layered. And I’ve learned that it’s okay to feel more than one thing at once.

    I get tired sometimes—tired of my grief stealing the spotlight from the good things. But I’m still learning. Still growing. And I’m continuing to walk this road of happiness, learning to balance my emotions with grace.

  • My walk with Sadness

    A friend of mine was heartbroken after the loss of their animal companion. They were distraught and vulnerable—and on top of their grief, they were judging themselves for feeling it so deeply. “It was just a pet,” they said. “This shouldn’t be affecting me this much. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat…”

    But the truth is, the pain wasn’t just grief—it was layered with shame. And that shame was making everything feel heavier. I listened as they shared stories, and I asked about the bond they had with their beloved pet. We laughed together, and we cried together. I could feel their pain, and honestly, it brought up some of my own losses too.

    As a Peer Support Specialist, I gently reminded them: “The depth of your grief shows the depth of your love.” This pet wasn’t just a pet—it was a support animal, someone who had been by their side every day for years. Of course it was going to hurt. It was beautiful to witness a love so deep that the loss could echo that powerfully.

    That moment reminded me to offer myself the same compassion. The sadness I’ve felt in my own life has revealed just how deeply I love and care for the people I’ve lost. Someone once asked me why I was still grieving a situation from years ago. My answer was simple: “Because I love them. And I always will.”

    Once I stopped fighting my sadness and started accepting it, I learned something important—my job wasn’t to get rid of it or pretend it wasn’t there. My path forward only opened up when I made space for grief to walk beside me.

    It took me until my 40s to really begin understanding grief and loss—and of course, I took the hard road. I experienced a loss that brought me to my knees. I barely ate. Depression settled in, and I spent months mostly sleeping. I lost so much weight it became frightening. At that point, it felt like grief was winning. Nothing else seemed to matter.

    But here’s the truth: when grief becomes too heavy, asking for help is not weakness. Doing only the bare minimum for a while is not failure. Grief doesn’t arrive because we’re weak—it shows up because we’re strong enough to face what’s real.

    And that reality? It hurts. Grief is raw and tender at the same time. But allowing ourselves to feel it fully is one of the most courageous things we can do.

  • Emotional Regulation: Sadness

    Getting to Know Sadness

    Sadness is an emotion we all experience, yet it remains one of the most complex and misunderstood. Many assume sadness is simply about tears—crying when we grieve. And while grief is generally accepted, it often comes with an unspoken time limit. When we lose someone we love, there’s an expectation to mourn, but only for so long. Eventually, the world expects us to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and move on. Sadness has been placed in a box—acknowledged, but rarely explored beyond the surface.

    What does sadness feel like?

    But sadness isn’t just about crying. It’s often linked to depression because many of their symptoms overlap. Sadness can look like a quiet withdrawal, struggling to laugh or smile, speaking in softer tones. It can mean feeling detached, sleeping more, losing motivation, and finding it hard to keep up with routines. It can manifest as exhaustion—both physical and emotional.

    When someone dies, people expect sadness, but not everyone reacts the same way. Not everyone cries when they hear about the loss of a loved one. Sometimes, sadness is a deep emptiness—an ache in the pit of your stomach, a longing so intense it feels like your heart is physically breaking. And the agony that comes with it? It can feel unbearable, like you might actually die from the weight of it. This isn’t an exaggeration; for many, it’s a very real and visceral experience. Yet, it’s rarely talked about or fully understood.

    Sadness in the body

    • deep emptiness
    • quiet withdrawl
    • struggling to laugh or even smile
    • speaking softly
    • sleeping more
    • loss of motivation
    • changes in appetite

    Types of sadness

    Sadness and grief aren’t just tied to death. We grieve in so many ways—over the loss of a pet, the end of a friendship, moving away, or even setting a boundary that someone else doesn’t accept. Sometimes, grief follows happy moments too, like reaching a milestone or closing a meaningful chapter in life. The end of something good can still bring a sense of loss.

    Sadness is vast and layered, and it deserves more understanding. Instead of brushing it aside or trying to rush through it, maybe we need to sit with it—get to know it, listen to what it’s telling us, and allow ourselves to feel without judgment.

    Coping with Sadness

    When we take the time to get to know sadness it can reveal  the things that matter to us, it can show us where we need to adapt or make changes. Sadness can teach empathy and how to support others.  It is a privilege to have closure, but many things in this life we grieve don’t give us the luxury of closure and so I’ve found that taking the time to create closure for myself has been helpful.

    Allow Yourself the Time and Space to Grieve
    Sadness needs room to breathe. It’s okay to not “bounce back” right away. Giving yourself permission to grieve—without rushing or minimizing your feelings—can be deeply healing. Whether that looks like a quiet afternoon alone, crying it out, or simply naming what you’re feeling, this space allows your heart to process what it’s carrying. Taking time to reflect on the meaningful moments or the lessons learned can gently support the healing process and offer comfort as you move forward.

    Honor What Was Lost
    Sometimes, creating a tangible way to honor a loss can bring comfort and meaning. Planting a plant, writing a letter to express what you didn’t get to say, or gathering keepsakes into a memory box, helps externalize the pain and reflect on what mattered. These small acts can become sacred spaces for healing, allowing you to carry the memory with tenderness instead of only pain.

    The one thing about grief that I want to share is that it tends to show up when you least expect it. Even if you said good bye and went through a mourning period, grief can choose to show up whenever it wants. And these are the times that I struggle with most with grief. I’ve had to change plans because I needed more time. While visiting with a friend grief showed up and kind of spoiled that time but I learned that the people currently in my life, although they might not understand the pain of grief and to the level I feel it, they loving hold space for me and support me-even when triggers of grief arrive. 

  • Emotional Regulation: Fear

    Getting To Know Fear

    Fear is an interesting emotion; it can arise from a legitimate situation or a perceived threat. This makes fear a very complex emotion. In many ways, fear acts like an internal alarm system. The brain sends signals to the body, prompting automatic reactions. Most people are familiar with the fight-or-flight response, but there are also two other reactions: freeze and fawn.

    Fear is highly individualized. Some people seek it out—watching horror movies or chasing adrenaline through thrill-seeking activities. Others, like me, prefer to avoid it. I don’t even enjoy watching others engage in stunts, and even just seeing a trailer for a horror film can give me nightmares. This is where curiosity and noticing come into play.

    When we notice a threat, real or imagined, our body responds automatically: we might start to sweat, our hands may feel clammy, our heart races, and our breathing becomes shallow. For some, these sensations can trigger an anxiety or panic attack. Fear, when unchecked, can also manifest into phobias or generalized anxiety. It can stem from past experiences, trauma, or the fear of losing control.

    How to Cope with Fear

    This is where noticing becomes a valuable tool. I once had friends who loved horror movies. Thinking I could handle it, I joined them to watch Thinner by Stephen King. That decision led to months of nightmares. I realized that scary movies are not for me. The emotional rollercoaster and lingering effects weren’t worth it. Through noticing, I also discovered that haunted houses and jump scares are not my thing—I hate being scared.

    Coping with fear is a challenge. I try my best to remind myself to breathe and, if a situation is too overwhelming, I give myself permission to leave. Those who experience anxiety, panic, or PTSD might be more sensitive to fear, making it even more crucial to develop coping strategies.

    Interestingly, I’ve noticed that when a real threat arises, my body responds in different ways. If the threat involves someone I love, I am ready to fight. If the threat is directed at me, I have sometimes found myself fawning—a response shaped by past experiences. One thing I know for sure: the more I focus on fear, the bigger it becomes.

    Preparing for Fear Without Letting It Take Over

    Just like we prepare for tornadoes in the Midwest—having a safety kit, knowing where to take shelter, and staying weather-aware—we can also prepare for fear in healthy ways. The key is balance. Refreshing the radar every two minutes during a storm crosses into obsession, just as avoiding driving all winter might be letting fear take control. Preparation is empowering, but when fear dictates our actions entirely, it becomes limiting.

    Here are some ways to prepare for fear without letting it rule your life:

    Key notes

    1. Have a Fear Plan
      Just like an emergency plan for severe weather, you can create a plan for situations that trigger fear. Ask yourself:
      • What is my fear telling me?
      • What steps can I take to feel safer?
      • Who can I reach out to for support?
      • What is within my control, and what is not?
    2. Ground Yourself in Reality
      Fear thrives in uncertainty. If you find yourself caught in a spiral of what-ifs, try grounding techniques:
      • Five Senses Check-in: Name five things you see, four things you touch, three things you hear, two things you smell, and one thing you taste.
      • Fact vs. Fiction: Ask yourself, “What are the actual facts, and what is my fear assuming?”
    3. Take Incremental Steps
      If fear is stopping you from doing something, break it down into small, manageable steps. For example:
      • If driving in winter terrifies you, start by taking short, local drives on clear days and gradually build your confidence.
      • If social anxiety keeps you from attending events, start with brief interactions and build from there.
    4. Set Boundaries with Fear
      It’s okay to acknowledge fear, but it doesn’t have to dictate your choices. Think of it as setting a boundary:
      • Healthy Fear: “I won’t drive in an ice storm because it’s unsafe.”
      • Fear Taking Over: “I won’t drive at all this winter because something bad might happen.”
    5. Practice Self-Compassion
      Fear isn’t weakness—it’s a natural response. Instead of judging yourself for being afraid, try saying:
      • “It’s okay to feel this way.”
      • “Fear is trying to protect me, but I am safe.”
      • “I can make choices that support both my safety and my growth.”

    By preparing for fear the same way we prepare for storms—thoughtfully, without obsession—we can navigate life’s uncertainties with more confidence and resilience.

    Tune in tomorrow as I share more of my personal walk with fear..

  • Emotional Regulation: Anger

    Getting to Know Anger

    If I were to ask you what makes you angry, you could probably come up with a long list—politics, relationships, pet peeves, and so on. Most of us can easily identify external triggers.

    If I were to ask what anger looks like, you might list things like furrowed brows, crossed arms, yelling, slamming doors, or even physical violence. And while these are common expressions of anger, they aren’t anger itself. They’re reactions to anger—patterns we’ve learned over time.

    But what if we could break those patterns? Through emotional regulation, we can learn to recognize anger as it arises and remain calm enough to respond rather than react.

    Think about a time when anger led to an automatic reaction:

    Imagine you’re driving, and another car suddenly cuts you off, forcing you to slam on the brakes. If you’re anything like me, your instinct might be to lay on the horn, throw up a middle finger, yell profanities, and maybe even tailgate out of frustration—only feeling relief once they’re out of sight. 

    Sound familiar?

    Believe it or not, this reaction isn’t necessarily healthy. Many of us react this way because we’ve seen it modeled around us. But these automatic reactions don’t actually help—they just keep us stuck in cycles of stress and frustration. Emotional regulation gives us a different choice: to notice anger, understand its purpose, and respond intentionally rather than impulsively.

    Why Do We Feel Anger?

    Anger is a protective emotion. It shows up when we feel wronged, threatened, unheard, disrespected, or when something feels unfair. Anger can also reveal what we’re passionate about—what matters to us.

    Using the driving example, anger could stem from:

    • A sense of threat—your safety (or that of your loved ones) was put at risk.
    • A need for control—you were following the rules, and someone else wasn’t.
    • A feeling of unfairness—why should you have to slam on the brakes because of their carelessness?

    The truth is, anger, frustration, and irritation all serve a purpose. But if we’re not careful, unchecked anger can lead to reactions that create more harm than good.

    What to Notice

    One way to start regulating anger is by noticing how it feels in your body before it fully takes over.

    These physical changes happen before we lash out. And that’s where we have power—by catching anger in this stage, we can shift from reacting to responding.

    Anger often brings subtle physiological shifts—like early warning signs from your body:

    • Increased heart rate
    • Shallow, huffy breathing
    • Rising blood pressure
    • Clenched teeth or tight muscles
    • Flushed face or increased body heat
    • Shaking or even unexpected tears

    Shifting the Pattern

    Once we recognize anger’s early signs, we can choose how to respond. Here’s what that might look like in real time:

    🚗 A car cuts you off.
    😤 You feel anger rising—your heart pounds, your face gets hot, your muscles tense.
    🛑 Instead of reacting impulsively, you pause.
    💨 You take a deep breath.
    🤔 You think: “That was rude, but I’m glad my brakes work. Maybe they weren’t paying attention. Either way, I’m safe.”
    🎶 You turn up the music, focus on your driving, and let it go.

    By choosing to respond instead of react, you keep yourself emotionally regulated—and, more importantly, you keep yourself safe.

    And here’s the thing: your anger is still valid. That driver was careless. It is frustrating. But instead of letting them control your emotional state, you take control of your own reaction.

    Anger in Relationships

    Road rage isn’t the only place we see automatic anger reactions. Relationships—whether with friends, family, or coworkers—are occasionally a potential trigger for anger.

    Instead of getting stuck in yelling, debating, or escalating arguments, we can practice a simple but powerful tool: pausing the conversation.

    “Hey, I’m noticing that I’m feeling really elevated right now. I want to stay level-headed because this conversation is important to me. I need to take a short break, and we can pick this back up soon.”

    Stepping away allows your body to reset so you don’t say something you regret. During that time, you can:

    • Drink some water
    • Go for a short walk
    • Eat something (low blood sugar affects mood!)
    • Take deep breaths

    Final Thoughts

    Our patterns can change over time. The only way to practice emotional regulation is by experiencing these emotions in real time and choosing new responses.

    Tomorrow, I’ll be sharing personal reflections on my own anger patterns—how they used to look and how they’ve changed. Stay tuned.

    .

  • Exploring Emotional Regulation

    A Journey Through Core Emotions

    For the next several weeks, we’ll be exploring emotional regulation through primary emotions: anger, happiness, sadness, and fear. These emotions are widely recognized as the most universal emotions. Of course, emotions are complex and layered, but these will provide a firm foundation for understanding how we experience and regulate them.

    Starting From Scratch

    It might feel strange to start from scratch. I don’t know about you, but I’m in my 40s, and honestly, I never really took the time to learn what each emotion meant for me—where I felt it in my body, how it showed up, and what it made me feel like. Instead, I grew up being told what emotions should look and feel like. It wasn’t until I was in day treatment that I took the time to understand emotions with fresh eyes and an open mind.

    Going back to the basics—being curious and noticing—helped me reach an important stage: labeling my emotions. This allowed me to eventually understand what I needed in those moments, whether that was comfort, space, or a way to calm myself down. This is the same process that children are introduced to in preschool and kindergarten, yet many of us never got the chance to fully integrate it into our adult lives.

    But emotions are tricky. Even when we think we have them figured out, they evolve, showing up in new ways. At one point, the idea of never fully solving the “puzzle” of emotions terrified me. And, to be honest, I still don’t always welcome my emotions with open arms. But I’ve become less afraid of looking inward and being honest with myself—and that, in itself, is a huge step. We’ll get into those deeper layers later this year, but for now, let’s focus on the foundation.

    What is emotional regulation?

    Emotional regulation isn’t about controlling or suppressing emotions—it’s about noticing, understanding, and responding to them in ways that support our well-being. It’s about recognizing what’s happening inside of us before we react, so we can make choices that align with our values rather than acting on impulse. It’s not about being less emotional—it’s about being more aware of what our emotions are telling us.

    This process starts with three key things:

    1. Noticing – Taking a step back to observe what we’re feeling, where we’re feeling it in our bodies, and how it’s showing up.
    2. Curiosity – Approaching our emotions with a sense of wonder rather than judgment. Instead of thinking, I shouldn’t feel this way, we can ask, Why am I feeling this? What is this emotion trying to tell me?
    3. Non-Judgment – Allowing ourselves to feel without labeling emotions as “good” or “bad.” All emotions serve a purpose. The goal isn’t to avoid difficult emotions but to navigate them with compassion.

    Looking Ahead

    Over the next several weeks, we’ll explore each of these core emotions in depth, breaking them down into:

    • What they are and why they matter
    • How they show up in our bodies
    • The difference between the emotion itself and our reactions to it
    • How noticing these emotions early can help us regulate them
    • Tools to navigate them in a healthier way

    Each week will focus on one emotion, starting with anger—an emotion that many of us struggle with but one that, when understood, can actually be a powerful tool for self-awareness and boundary-setting.

    This isn’t about fixing or changing how you feel—it’s about building awareness so that you can respond to your emotions in ways that feel right for you.

    I hope you’ll join me on this journey, and if you have thoughts, reflections, or experiences you want to share, I’d love to hear them. Let’s start by getting curious together.

  • Emotional Regulation Myths

    Regulating our emotions is something we’ve been doing since we were babies. Back then, it was purely instinctive—crying when we were hungry, cold, or gassy. Our caregivers had to play a guessing game to figure out what we needed. Over time, we learned to smile, laugh, and eventually talk—developing new ways to express ourselves. But what many of us don’t realize is that this process of learning and adjusting our emotional responses continues throughout our lives.

    To build a healthier relationship with our emotions, we need to dismantle old beliefs and thought patterns. Just like we set our intentions with gratitude, we can take the time to notice, be curious, and remain nonjudgmental. What are some of the thoughts and beliefs you hold about emotions? Do they align with what you know to be true?

    Here are three common myths about emotional regulation:

    Myth 1: Emotions Are Either “Good” or “Bad”

    Many of us were taught that emotions fit into neat categories—joy and happiness were “good,” while sadness and anger were “bad” or “negative.” I grew up believing this, and it shaped how I viewed and processed my emotions.

    Truth:

    The reality is, there are no “good” or “bad” emotions. Emotions are signals—they give us insight into what we’re experiencing, and each one serves a purpose. Some emotions might be easier to handle, while others challenge us, but none are inherently bad. Emotions help us make decisions, show us what matters to us, deepen our connections with others, and even help our bodies survive. The harder emotions—grief, anger, frustration—often point us toward things we feel deeply about. They don’t need to be feared or suppressed; they need to be understood.

    Myth 2: We Can Only Feel One Emotion at a Time

    We often think emotions come one at a time—if someone dies, we must feel only sadness. If there is injustice, we must be only angry. On Christmas morning, we must be only joyful.

    Truth:

    Emotions are complex and layered. We can feel many emotions at once. Christmas morning might bring joy, but it can also carry grief and nostalgia. When someone says something hurtful, we might feel both sadness and anger. While emotions are universal, they are deeply personal—two people can experience the same emotion in completely different ways. Instead of trying to categorize emotions as singular experiences, we can embrace their complexity and learn from them.

    Myth 3: Big Emotions Mean I’m Out of Control or Being “Dramatic”

    Many of us have been made to feel like big emotions—intense sadness, overwhelming joy, deep anger—mean we are out of control, overreacting, or even “crazy.”

    Truth:

    Experiencing big emotions does not mean you are out of control. It does not make you “dramatic” or “crazy.” You are allowed to feel and express emotions, no matter how intense they are. True emotional intelligence is not about suppressing feelings—it’s about recognizing, understanding, and moving through them in a healthy way. A real friend or supportive person will hold space for your emotions rather than criticize you for them. Being vulnerable isn’t a weakness—it’s a sign of strength, self-awareness, and emotional growth.

    Healthier Relationship to Emotions

    Now that we’ve broken down these myths, we can start working toward a healthier relationship with our emotions. By embracing the full spectrum of our feelings and letting go of harmful labels, we can learn to navigate our emotions in ways that honor who we are—without shame or judgment.

    For some, this means relearning what emotions truly are. Taking the time to notice, name, and explore emotions can be a crucial step in healing. Many of us were never properly taught about emotions—what they mean, how they function, or how to process them in a healthy way.

    For example, I once tied the feeling of love to things and people who were toxic. My understanding of love had been twisted from a young age, shaped by manipulation and grooming. I believed I was loved not for who I was, but for what I could offer. I had to break down even the most basic emotions—love, happiness, sadness—so I could rewire my brain to recognize what I truly needed, rather than what I had been told to accept.

    In the coming posts, I’ll be diving deeper into a few major emotion, exploring what they mean and how we can build a healthier relationship with them. I challenge you to do the same—look at each emotion, even the simplest ones, and ask yourself: What does this emotion mean to me now, as someone healing and reclaiming my story?