Emotions are pesty things. As undercurrents within our souls, they sway our mood and shape our attitude to our daily lives. Feelings affect how we perceive what is happening and how we react. They can tell us what feel right, and hence, what we ought to do. In that sense, emotions are a key input to live the good, moral life. Yet, like undercurrents, emotions can be so strong as to submerge us. Many people resist strong emotions and try to repress them – especially if they dare to contradict our finely ordered lives. But a burst of emotion – like in a panic attack – can still drown us.
Apparently, emotions live in the limbic system of our brains, somewhere more primitive than our acclaimed cerebral cortex. Jonathan Haidt, in his book ‘The Happiness Hypothesis’, describes how our lymbic system is like an elephant that our cortex, its rider, is trying to ride. Sometimes, rider and elephant appear in communion. But does it mean that the rider has control of the elephant? Or simply that the elephant just wants to go in the same direction as the rider? I like the ambivalence in the analogy. Can we actually control our emotions? Or are they just what they are? And what should we do when emotions threaten our current reality?
I recently faced these questions vicariously, as my family was rocked by some strong emotional winds. A death, a terminal illness, suicidal thoughts – “Heavy S***, if you ask me!” I don’t think that my family is extraordinary in attempting ‘denial’ as their preferred approach to emotional unrest. It is certainly a favorite first impulse! What is particularly hard is that I cannot stomach the hypocrisy of it – so I often end up being ‘the canary in the coal mine’, the one who calls “Bullshit!”. In the most respectful way, I express what others and I feel – but my ability to read the elephant’s mind is really tiring.
January ended with my uncle dying without even allowing us to say goodbye. He did so because he didn’t want to face unresolved conflicts with a brother and sister. I suspect that he simply – selfishly – avoided his own shame for past mistakes. “Fine!” I empathized, “it’s hard enough to have to face death.” As the cancer overtook his breathing capacity, I felt compassion. But then he died and forbade a celebration of his life, my heart switched to anger. I vented: “His life might be his ownuntil his last breath! But he cannot deny, beyond the grave, that his life affected us all!” It’s harder to grieve when you fundamentally disagree with the deceased last wishes.
February started with my niece completely paralyzed by her emotions. She had repressed so many traumas that she threatened her life. Again, I had spoken up. Over Christmas, I shook her. “All the tension you shove inside – trying to look like you are ok – it will explode one day if you do not deal with it!” As her mental health progressed from bad to worst, I felt guilty. Of course, once her emotions started to resurface, she didn’t know how to deal with them. She couldn’t work, couldn’t think – it’s been a bumpy ride even if I’m convinced that I gave her a soft(er) landing instead of a full-frontal crash to the bottom.
And my step-dad’s illness progressed. He was already on the clock but now, it’s ticking louder. He doesn’t fear his death – he is actually facing it with saintly stoicism. But he doesn’t want us to be sad of his eventual passing, which is of course ludicrous. So my mom has to hide to shed a tear and everyone must maintain the ‘life-as-usual’ facade.
But life is not as usual! When I exclaimed: “Wake up! It’s time to be honest!”, my mom dared to defend him: “You know that it’s not everyone who likes to express emotions.”
– Maybe so, I said, but we all HAVE emotions, so let’s stop pretending like we don’t!
There, I spoke out loud the ultimate taboo: we have these pesty things call feelings, that don’t agree to stand by idly while life unfolds. Out of the blue, the elephant refuses to be tamed. Emotions, previously manageable, can no longer be controlled. A gloomy wave takes over our limbic system. Even the most contained of rational mind can slip and fall into the abyss. Maybe – in fact – the most rational of us are actually more vulnerable to systemic shifts in emotions – having denied them in their infancy.
Why do we fight so hard to keep emotions at bay? In some ways, emotions are the signposts of our lives, telling us what feels right and what doesn’t. We should welcome them, accept them with open heart, and act on their insights. But sometimes, feelings contradict what we rationally wish. Then what is more real? Our decisions or our feelings?