A friend and I recently reflected about the challenge of having been raised to be good, polite, good-natured, kind (often to our own detriment), understanding, and never-in-a-bad-mood, by mothers who displayed these characteristics in abundance.

Not that this is bad; it feels great to be in a calm, loving household environment. But because our role models rarely displayed negative emotions, it left us wondering what was wrong with us, that we had negative emotions and what to do with them when we did. It was like being unexpectedly tossed a lump of hot coal and juggling it while frantically searching for an appropriate place to dispose of it.

We all know of at least one woman who would continue to hold the searing lump even as it was burning a hole in her hands, all the while continuing to smile graciously, like her face was totally unaware of the pain in another part of her body. We know this woman… rather intimately, because many of us have been that woman at least once…possibly even more than once.

Although unaware of it at the time, the message that played and replayed in my head while growing up was: “Displaying negative emotions is unladylike. It would permanently damage other people’s opinion of me… and that is to be avoided at all costs. Therefore, I do not acknowledge negative emotions; they simply do not exist.”

I spent a lifetime dismissing negative emotions as irrelevant, just quickly accepting whatever was and making the best of it. Even when I felt really angry, I always maintained control of my emotions. I would not allow myself to let it out. Somehow, I felt that such a display would not only be a disgrace but that I would be dismissed as hysterical, so I said nothing.

Somewhere along the years, I became aware that the choice was mine. I was no longer willing to play by these rules; the price was just too high. There had to be a better way than to remain silent and essentially give others permission to walk all over me. I sensed I was trading my honest self-expression for a facsimile of myself. I couldn’t live like that anymore but with no role models to observe, how would I go about making a positive change in myself? Where would I even start?

First, I needed to learn how to identify the negative emotion when I felt “bad.” Until something is acknowledged, it is impossible to name. Slowly, by allowing myself to feel my emotions, and getting comfortable with that, I found the accurate words to define them. Was it anger? Betrayal? Unfairness? Belittling? Shame? Learning to label these feelings was like learning a new language.

Second, once I knew what I was feeling, I wanted to understand why I was feeling that emotion. When knitting or crocheting, you occasionally have to rip out most of the stitches to get to the “missed stitch.” Trying to get to the root of each emotional surge was much like that. Holding onto the emotional thread long enough to find its origin, then repairing and rebuilding from there.

Third, once I learned to identify my feeling and to understand where it stemmed from, I next had to learn how to properly express it. I wanted to be able to communicate it to others in such a way, that they would, not only hear, but also understand exactly what I said. I learned that it would be most effective if I presented it in a truthful, non-judgmental, non-intimidating manner. Having been a conflict avoider all of my life until that point, made me feel doubtful I had the courage to complete this part of the process.

Nonetheless, I knew that my very being was at stake and felt I needed to take responsibility to grow up in this area of my life. Like a yearling that emerges from his mother’s womb on clumsy, unsteady legs, step by step, I started to speak up for myself. I made many mistakes along the way. Like any new skill, I needed time, practice, room for errors and more practice. What I realized is that even if I made a mistake, it merely presented another opportunity to set the record straight.

The interesting thing that happened along the way is that I became real. Once I no longer tried to portray a flawless image of who I thought I should be, I became comfortable in my own skin. I accepted the flawed human being that I was and became less critical of myself. In turn, as I became gentler and more understanding of myself, I became less judgmental of others. I gave them the same space to be themselves and extended to them the same grace I had given to myself.

The metamorphosis has been incredible. I cannot imagine living my life any other way. Instead of striving to be “ladylike,” I now strive to be “authentic.” This doesn’t necessarily eliminate all the qualities that were modeled for me, just those that might silence me or negate who I am. My progress, while slow has been steady, and continues to be an area of focus in my life to this day.

~Zanne

InSearchOfAuthenticity.com

© 2017 Zanne