Wednesday, August 26, 2020

Being honest about sorrow, anger and fear takes courage


This is a message for anyone, and yet it is certainly a message to men, many of whom seem conditioned NOT to feel, because of the societal pressure we place on men to be ‘men’.  It can be a temptation for a man to feel cowardly if he’s open and vulnerable with his emotions.  But most women know that there’s a special strength in men when they can relate with their emotions.  It’s not wussy to feel.  Nothing could be further from the actual truth.  And let’s not just stereotype the men.  There are a lot of women who have also been conditioned to suppress their real and raw emotions.

We could say that humanity’s suppression of the emotions is a generational tragedy that’s so woven into the fabric of our psychology, no amount of convincing brings today’s man or woman any closer to the truth, because vulnerability involves more risk than simply being vulnerable.  There are so many sociological reasons for this; too many, and too much complexity, than can be considered here.

It seems we would rather project the image that we’re strong by being angry than project the image we’re “weak” by being sad or fearful.  Yet, most anger is simply a veneer for a deeper, underlying sadness or fear.  And anyway, we have made more shame of anger than to be open to the reasons why we’re livid.  If only we shamed ourselves less for our anger there might be a redemptive pathway back to our sorrow and fear so we could heal.

It takes great courage to be honest about what makes us sad and fearful.

In a discussion with young people about addiction and homelessness recently, there was a view that very much felt that loud and angry drunken homeless people only had themselves to blame.

I challenged that thinking.  What’s going on deeper down inside someone who is driven to drink themselves into oblivion?  Isn’t it masking pain?  What trauma do these people bear?  Just how many daily travesties have some people endured?  What have they suffered, and what do they continue to suffer?  What about the anger?  Do you think there is any joy in them when they’re cursing the world? And shouldn’t we pray that those who are at war with themselves would find peace?

When we truly consider what is deep and dark within a person that remains unsearched, we can empathise with the fact that for so many, the pain is so horrendous they simply can’t go there.  What must they be feeling being drunk and angry all the time?  Is it ever a good thing to feel so far out of control?  And yet, the only way out is through an honesty that demands courage.  So many of us have these Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACES), and they make it incredibly hard to go to the honest places.

Adverse negative emotions are worth exploration, given that at their core there is more dread and sorrow lying underneath than embittering anger and resentment.  But because access is blocked to honesty for the pain we must bear, there may be just more anger and resentment, and so the cycle continues.  Somehow we must throw caution to the wind and become so bravely vulnerable we cut through the anger and veer into the primary emotions of sorrow and fear.

We need to become more intuitively connected to the sorrow and dread our hearts feel, or we will quickly convert the shame that results into anger toward others, condemning them into the bargain.

If only we could have the situational awareness that what’s driving our negative behaviours was sorrow or dread or a combination of these.  There’s no shame in being overwhelmed.  But we need to recognise, we hate to be weak, and yet feeling our weakness is essential to recovery.

If only we had the courage to be real about how we feel.  We can, surely.  Peace awaits.

Healing is close when we’re honest enough to feel what is real.

Isn’t it time we challenged the stereotype and became strong and courageous to the degree that we are true about how we feel?

When we’re courageous enough to bear our primary emotions, we stand on the clearer path of healing and recovery.  There is nothing to fear in feeling our dread and sorrow.  In bearing one’s pain, there is hope for healing.


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