I’ve learned that being brutally honest with myself and others regarding what I’m feeling and why has been super helpful.
It _does_ run the risk of sounding childish, but thus far I’ve found the open vulnerability more rewarding than punishing.
Identifying when I’m irritable, I’ll say “I’m grumpy, I’m gonna suck to be around, sorry”. Or when the real reason why I don’t want to do something is just because “I’m feeling shy”, etc.
Its hard to break the whole “men should be stoic” expectation but I’ve found people are remarkably understanding when you’re honest about why you’re feeling what you’re feeling.
I have to say that our team is amazing and all get on well together, so likely this vulnerability is easier on us because of that. The men on my team are just as quick to share their feelings too. It's really quite nice.
Kids learn soon enough what the real boundaries of their emotional life are. As a little boy, I was told that it was weak to cry if I lost a Karate match but as long as I lied and said it was because I got punched really hard, it was OK. I'm not sure what the ultimate goal is of this kind of socially engineered lack of self-awareness, but it doesn't seem to be working. At least not for me.
Learning contains much failure, and being able to better control your own emotional state in the presence of these many every-day failures makes further progress faster, easier, and more pleasant for everyone?
Meanwhile, what did I do? I learned to stop crying by quitting Karate. I didn't actually learn to process my feelings. I just learned how to either repress them, avoid them, or lie about them.
That's not control, because all of that was accomplished subconsciously. Control relies on self-awareness. And repression isn't pleasant, certainly not in the long run.
I'm not trying to get all touchy-feely here. I think self-awareness about one's emotional state is a vital survival strategy.
That isn't to say that some negative emotions are better ignored, but I have a pretty strong inclination to avoidance over confrontation, and it's hard to know if I'm ignoring something that isn't worth my time or unable to confront something that's going to fester.
I think it's ultimately all about efficacy. I've interacted with a lot of people who believe themselves to be totally regulated and are actually seething with resentment. Some of those people are in my family. I know I don't want to live like that. I'd like to think I've got a better model, but only time will tell.
I guess I just find the whole human emotional landscape to be extremely complex and nuanced, and most of the people who I meet who believe that all negative emotions can be regulated away are just pathologically unselfaware. If the alternative is navel gazing, I'll take it.
I think the author is on to something. We are far less willing to ascribe psychological motivations to other adults than we are to children. People are happy to say that a child is "shy" or "jealous" or "grumpy because they are hungry."
It's possible that the construction of adult identity means hiding one's psychological motivations from others, and we learn this from the shame of having adults reduce our needs and desires to something other than our own self-narrative.
This is understandable, but maybe we should be learning the opposite lesson. Every human is a psychological being, and it's actually easier to be empathetic when you're aware of your own motivators and look from them in others.