Peer Reflections

Nurturing Wellness through Creativity and Compassion
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Tag: mental wellness

  • My Walk with Anger

    The Old Me

    You might not believe this, but, I was known for my temper—the smallest things used to set me off. Once, while enjoying a beach day with a friend, words were exchanged, and the tension between us escalated. Back then, I didn’t understand the power of emotions or how to calm myself down so I could respond instead of react. And my reactions? They were explosive.

    As we left the beach, the argument continued in the car. I felt trapped and furious. We were both yelling, and I lost control. In a moment of pure emotional chaos, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door, fully intending to jump out of the moving vehicle.

    Looking back, I see that this reckless decision was my desperate attempt to remove myself from the situation. I didn’t have the skills or the understanding of anger—I only knew that when I was upset, my emotions took over, and I said and did things I never truly meant. I was reacting, not thinking.

    This wasn’t an isolated incident. When anger consumed me, I threw things, kicked things, and said horrible words that couldn’t be taken back. It wasn’t until I started learning about emotions that I began peeling back the layers of my anger.

    For the longest time, when the rage monster appeared, I didn’t even recognize the warning signs. I wasn’t aware of what made me angry or how my body reacted until the fight was already over. I didn’t notice my blood pressure rising or my muscles tensing—anger was so ingrained in me that I assumed those sensations were just part of who I was.

    The Change

    That changed when I started working with my therapist. I learned to recognize the subtle signs: my heart beating faster, my muscles tightening, that slow burn of frustration bubbling inside me. I was taught tools—how to walk away, how to remove myself from the situation, how to disengage before things spiraled out of control. Deep breaths, brisk walks, choosing not to see the other person as an enemy.

    I’ll never forget the first time I put these tools into action. In the middle of a heated argument, I paused and said, “I’m feeling elevated. Let’s take a walk and continue this conversation after.”

    The person I was speaking to didn’t take it well. They told me I was avoiding the conversation, abandoning their needs, and that taking a walk was a stupid idea. But in reality, they were angry because they couldn’t control my emotions or my actions like they had expected.

    So I stood up, listened to my body, and took the walk alone.

    When I returned, I felt calmer—ready to continue the hard conversation. But the other person escalated again, raising their voice and growing angrier. That’s when I realized: taking a break worked. I was in control of my emotions, and they weren’t.

    That moment was a turning point. The more I practiced, the more I noticed anger’s presence before it took over. I wasn’t perfect, but over time, the emotional explosions faded. I built healthier patterns.

    The New Me

    And then came the day I knew—without a doubt—that I had control over my anger. A loved one, struggling with deep insecurities, projected their pain onto me. In the past, I would have snapped, lashed out, or fed into the fight. But this time, something shifted. I felt the anger rise… and then it subsided before I even responded.

    I saw the situation for what it was—their pain, not mine. I remained calm, stood up for myself multiple times, and ultimately set a boundary: I needed space to process. That was the breaking point for them. They ended the relationship because they weren’t willing to respect my need for space.

    Losing that relationship hurt. The grief was real. But at the same time, I was so damn proud of myself. I hadn’t gotten defensive. I hadn’t engaged in their anger. I had given them my time, my patience, and multiple chances to work through it. Asking for space wasn’t unreasonable—anyone in my life today would understand and respect that.

    I handled it with clarity, self-respect, and emotional control.

    That friendship ended, but I walked away knowing my worth. Knowing that all the internal work I had done was real. That I managed my anger like a pro.

    And that? That was a victory.

  • 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.

    .

  • One Thing At A Time

    Photo by Shannon

    The winter storm stirs up wonders. Through snow and wind, bending and blowing, the very things that should be buried beneath layers of ice and frozen to the earth resurface. A perfect white canvas, now speckled with autumn’s remnants.

    Sometimes, healing feels like this. A storm blows through, uncovering things we thought we had buried. Triggers, past traumas—showing up at the most inopportune times. But instead of fighting it, I take notice. I don’t chastise the leaf for landing on fresh snow. I don’t demand that it disappear. Instead, I wonder—how did the wind carry it here? I notice the edges, the color-worn but not damaged.

    We can make matters worse by denying what surfaces. We can freeze our hands trying to dig through the snow, desperate to put things back where they belong. Or we can simply notice. Be curious. Trust that, just like the leaf, these things will find their way—no matter how much they contrast against the untouched snow.

  • Box Office Gratitude

    I’m going to be a bit vulnerable today. When it comes to TV shows and movies, I tend to stick with old favorites. Even my kids can predict the general order of what I’ll choose to watch—Gilmore Girls, How I Met Your Mother, Friends, New Girl, and documentaries on Earth, wildlife, Egypt, and space. It’s a familiar cycle.

    I re-watch these shows because I know exactly what’s coming. There are no unexpected triggers, no emotional landmines. This is also why I absolutely detest going to the movie theater. My movie choices follow the same pattern—I cycle through The Mummy (1-3), Harry Potter (1-7), and Jurassic Park (all of them).

    I avoid movies that make me cry. The Croods, almost anything Disney, and Inside Out—I can’t do it. Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautifully made, but they hit too close to home. The emotions they stir up aren’t just about sadness; they bring up grief, loss, and truths that are hard to face.

    Recently, I made the mistake of going to see Inside Out 2 with my family. I had told them I didn’t want to go. I even suggested my husband take them instead. But they were sweet, encouraging me to come along. And so, I did.

    I bawled.

    Not just a few tears—I sobbed. The movie hit me hard, forcing me to confront emotions I wasn’t ready for. By the time the credits rolled and the lights came on, my kids turned to me and said, “Yup, you were right. You cried.”

    My kids are at the age where they ask hard questions. They’re curious, thoughtful, and I’ve done a good job raising them to be unafraid of emotions. They wanted to understand—What part made you cry?

    It was difficult to explain. I shared a little about my past, just enough to help them make sense of my reaction. But their questions lingered throughout the week, popping up at random moments. I wanted to meet their curiosity with honesty, but I also wanted to protect them.

    And then, a realization hit me.

    Their inability to fully understand my grief is a good thing. They’ve never had to hide under a parked car to protect themselves from someone chasing them. They don’t have to fear that when their dad and I get upset, we’ll break their bedroom door in half.

    They don’t carry that kind of fear because they are safe. They are loved.

    And that fills me with pride.

    At the same time, grief sneaks in—because I didn’t get that same childhood. I didn’t grow up in a home where emotions were handled with care. But instead of letting that consume me, I remind myself: I am breaking cycles. I am giving them what I never had.

    And for that, I am grateful.

  • 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.

  • Violet Veil

    Photo by Shannon

    Art has always been my sanctuary, my solace, and my voice when words fail to capture the complexity of my emotions.

    “Violet Veil” emerged from a moment of profound reflection. The interplay of vibrant purples and reds in this image reflects the layers of emotion I was experiencing: the deep shadows of pain interwoven with the soft light of hope. The flowers, delicate yet resilient, seem to push through the veil, symbolizing growth and transformation even in the midst of struggle.

    Through this piece, I was reminded that beauty can exist alongside sorrow, and that healing often involves embracing the contrasts—the vivid and the muted, the joy and the ache. Violet Veil invites the viewer to look closer, to pause and notice the intricate details that often go unseen, much like the small but significant moments of healing in our own journeys. Art allows us to find clarity where there was once only chaos, and Violet Veil serves as a testament to the power of seeing through the layers—both in the image and within ourselves.

  • Love/Hate Relationship with Emotions

    I continue to have a love/hate relationship with emotions. Logically, I know that emotions help us figure out our needs, and I love that. It’s something I am continually learning, as each emotion and situation has its own nuances. Emotions are complex, and I often find myself lost in them. But I’m grateful that I can take a curious approach to them. Over time, I’ve learned not to fight my emotions but to sit with them and ask: What does this mean? How can I support myself?

    The frustrating part—the part I still struggle to flow with—is when a random emotion hits out of nowhere.

    I wake up in a good mood, feeling rested, going about my day, and then BAM! Like a rogue wave crashing over me, an emotion floods in suddenly and intensely. I’m not always graceful or accepting in moments like this. I get frustrated and overwhelmed. But living with PTSD means this will be a continual battle, and the best way I know to thrive through emotional or physical flashbacks is to give my emotions space.

    The hardest part for me is not knowing what triggered the rogue wave of emotions. I’ve spent hours—even days—trying to figure it out, digging for the root cause. But my best success comes when I acknowledge and validate the emotion rather than interrogate it. Instead of chasing the “why,” I focus on supporting myself through it.

    Sometimes, that support looks like allowing myself to cry. Other times, it’s reaching out to a trusted person who won’t make the emotion worse. It’s giving myself space and time to take care of myself.

    Sometimes, this interferes with my plans—because the emotions feel too big to function. Other times, I can box them up and carry on, dealing with the gnawing annoyance of them in the back of my mind.

    But no matter what, I will carry on.

    I will take the time to address things as they arise and remind myself that taking care of me is not just important—it’s necessary.

  • 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?

  • Through The Lens: Ice & Emotions

    Photo by Shannon

    Through the Lens: Ice and Emotions

    The ice on Lake Superior can do some pretty impressive things. Waves push shards onto the shore, shifting and moving them miles down the coast in a matter of days—or even hours. The ice on Lake Superior is both unstable and magnificent at the same time.

    With camera in hand and ice cleats attached, I take a calculated risk to capture the shards that fascinate me. The details, the shapes, the color—I am drawn in, mesmerized by their raw beauty. As I stand there, I reflect on the way emotions are similar to these ice shards…

    Emotions can feel sharp. They can feel cold, catching you off guard. They shift, they spike, they fall, they freeze—emotions are notorious for being unpredictable.

    We can put all our energy into controlling or suppressing them, trying to force them into a box. Or we can choose to observe them as they shift.

    As emotions rise and fall, I remind myself that managing them is a lot like observing the ice on Superior. I am both fearful of the fragile space they claim and in awe of their beauty and arrangement.

  • Gratitude Through Vulnerability

    Relearning Emotions

    During my recovery and fight against mental illness, I had to break down my version and definition of what emotions were. They were labeled poorly—shaped by unhealthy core beliefs and the lessons imprinted on me as a young child. My understanding of emotions, molded by these flawed beliefs, was fundamentally broken. The beliefs I carried about emotions weren’t truly my own; they were absorbed from the people and environments around me.

    Life Before

    As a child, when I cried, I was told to stop or risk being given something to cry about. When I was angry, I heard, “It’s not that big of a deal,” or, “You’re being unreasonable.” Over time, I internalized these messages: certain emotions were unacceptable. Feeling sadness, anger, or frustration meant I was wrong, unreasonable, or dramatic. These beliefs became roadblocks that made it nearly impossible to express or process my emotions in healthy ways.

    Reconstructing my understanding of emotions during recovery was humbling and uncomfortable. At times, I felt like a toddler learning to walk—clumsy, unsure, and frustrated by my lack of control. I had to learn to pause, look inward, and identify what I was feeling. I had to give myself permission to feel emotions I had long been told were unacceptable.

    Life Now

    But even now, the process isn’t easy. Sharing my feelings with others often makes me feel vulnerable, like I’m navigating unsteady terrain. It’s especially difficult when someone responds harshly or tells me I’m being dramatic. In those moments, I remind myself of an important truth: their reaction is often a reflection of their own struggles with emotional awareness, not mine.

    I’ve learned to take a step back and ask myself a simple but profound question: Is this mine to carry? More often than not, the answer is no. Their judgment is a sign of their discomfort with emotions, not a reflection of my worth. I’ve learned to approach these moments with gratitude—for the clarity to discern what’s mine and the strength to let go of what isn’t.

    Powerful Realization

    Through this process, I came to a powerful realization: there are no good or bad emotions. They’re all part of the human experience, each one offering us valuable insight if we’re willing to listen. Ironically, the emotions most people consider “easy,” like joy and happiness, were—and still are—the hardest for me to embrace.

    I had spent so much of my life feeling anger, frustration, neglect, and abandonment that those emotions felt familiar—even comfortable in a strange way. But joy? Love? Happiness? Those were foreign to me. I didn’t know what they felt like, and I didn’t know how to let myself fully experience them.

    Relearning my emotions has been one of the hardest and most rewarding parts of my recovery. It’s taught me to sit with discomfort, embrace vulnerability, and, most importantly, find gratitude—not just for the easy moments, but for the strength to keep going when joy feels out of reach.

    Gratitude became my anchor. It allowed me to shift my focus from what I couldn’t control to the small, meaningful moments of growth and healing I could celebrate. With time, I began to see my emotions not as burdens but as guides—tools that help me navigate life and connect more deeply with myself and others. I welcomed the vulnerability needed to address and share my emotions.

    Have you ever found certain emotions harder to embrace? What beliefs about emotions are you carrying, and are they serving you?

    Remember: there are no “wrong” emotions. They are all valid, and they all matter. The courage to feel them, even when it’s hard, is something to be proud of.