Those of us who endured tough childhoods, frequently suffer with emotional blurred lines. In fact, even if you had idyllic childhoods: we fragile humans struggle, when trying to correctly understand the plethora of our human emotions.

 

If we’ve not been heard, nurtured or loved in our informative years’: we learn silence and suppression instead. Whilst we might be great in parent or professional modes: trying to avoid the pitfalls of confusion over our feelings can be a frequent challenge.

 

We can sink far more deeply into a negative emotion, and yet we’re often not conscious that we’re even doing so. It’s as though we’ve been issued with the wrong footwear: such as flipflops, trying to negotiate a muddy riverbank. We’re so used to the shoes we were issued as kids, that we don’t even realise that there are more practical options are available.

 

I’ve found myself ill-attired a couple of times recently, in spite of the huge amount of self-development work I continue to do.

I’d misread my own emotions, and only by discussing one aspect with my best friend, did I become consciously aware, or awake to the Venus Flytrap of my latent trauma.  Whilst many of us have this ugly plant in our heads, we have to remind ourselves that we can outwit it.

 

We have to recall that we’re survivors in the first place, and that we have endured worse trauma, that has actually made us stronger…

 

Firstly, I got depressed because a mutual friend of my late father’s passed away. He’d suffered the same illness as my dad, and the circumstances were similar. It was the association that caught the attention of the greedy plant, made more relentless by the closeness of the anniversary dates.

 

“Emma”, she said, “you’re allowed to be sad; this is indeed a terribly sad occasion. But you have to remember this is not your story. He belongs to another family”.

 

Sam’s advice was incredibly helpful. She’d correctly and kindly identified my emotion, and reminded me that my other friend would not wish for me to be depressed over his passing. Sam had muzzled the mouth of the green predator within me.

 

In the clearing of that space that she’d given me, I could then take a pragmatic view of the other matter that was dragging me down. Again, I thought it was depression, because my GP had recently told me to take a fortnight off from my exercise regime. I’d hurt my knee, yet the exercise given to me by another professional: – is the one that I need to do in order to avoid an operation and to keep me mobile. In my head, I’m am trying to outwit the cerebral palsy I have on one side of my body.

 

I reminded self, that in childhood, the prognosis was that I’d never be able to walk or talk. I learned to do both aged three, and I will utilise the same determination as I had then.

 

I recategorized depression, realising it is fear and frustration, naturally I wish to be able to keep walking. But I reminded myself that I am blessed with stamina, and sensibly took the time off to heal my knee.

 

Never be ashamed of discussing your feelings with a loved one: they always want the best outcome for you, and I am ever-grateful to have such an amazing friend in Sam.

I hope this is helpful.

 

SUNNY wishes,

 

Emma x