I come from an emotionally-stifled family. Showing extreme emotion in either direction always seemed frowned upon by elders of the family. You had better not get too giddy, especially if you were a little girl. It wasn’t ladylike to laugh loudly. You better not sit too long sulking or being sad. You have too much to be grateful for to allow that. And if someone made you angry? You better not fly off the handle. In fact, you better perfect your poker face so not even the slightest hint of anger can creep across your face.
I had no way of realizing it for a long time, but I had been taught to be emotionally dead for most of my childhood. I would smile when it was appropriate. I would grieve in private. I would stifle my rage over injustice. I would bottle my feelings up to maintain a comfortable space for those around me. I was a robot.
I had stuffed the height and depth of any emotion so far down into myself that I didn’t know how to express the overabundance of joy I felt at times, or how to feel and express the red rage I felt at other times. I didn’t know how to deal with my long and hard bout with depression. I didn’t even recognize it as depression for the first year.
It took hours of prayer, meditation, Bible-reading, journaling, sunlight, upbeat music, self-reflective questioning, and conversation for me to reach deep enough to find myself again. Under all the buried thoughts, feelings, emotions, screams and cries, there I was. It hit me like a left jab to the jaw:
The more I stifled my natural joyous responses to minimize disapproval from the more reserved members of my family, the more depressed I felt, and the more negative emotions sank into my spirit. The more I tried to fight negative emotions, the deeper their roots grew and the more I was controlled by them. That’s not quite right, is it? I had to learn that negative emotions WILL pass if I decided to take control of them by ALLOWING them their time. If someone gets under my skin, I allow myself to feel anger. If a situation hurts me, I allow the hurt to wash over me, but only for a time. I give myself time to be human in feeling whatever comes to me. And then, I get up. I look for and apply the lesson in it, I channel it toward something creative and I move forward.
Understanding and healthily expressing my emotions creates a safe space for me as someone in a society that increasingly embraces the disingenuous for appearances’ sake. Being free to express emotion honestly should be a right from birth, not an epiphany had during a quarter-life crisis. My trajectory has shown me in 3-D that it is important for sanity, honest and open communication with others, and genuine self-expression. I wasn’t gifted the opportunity of space and time on this earth to be a robot, clone or drone. Some of us wait a lifetime, but I’m elated that I’ve been blessed to make this discovery, now, at 27 years old. Now, I can live a lifetime of free expression.
La Truly is a writer, college professor and young women’s empowerment enthusiast. She mixes her interest in social and cultural issues with her life experiences to encourage thought, discussion and positive change among young Women of Color. Follow her on Twitter: @AshleyLaTruly and check out her site: http://www.hersoulinc.com.
