rich, their books sell by the million and they attract huge followings of people desperate for ‘the answer’. My guess is that many readers of this book will have already gone down that path and been sadly disappointed.
How We Learn About Control
From a young age, we are taught that we should be able to control our feelings. When you were growing up, you probably heard a number of expressions like, ‘Don’t cry, or I’ll give you something to cry about’, ‘Don’t be so gloomy; look on the bright side’, ‘Take that frown off your face’, ‘You’re a big boy now. Big boys don’t cry’, ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself’, ‘Don’t worry, there’s no need to be frightened.’
With words such as these, the adults around us sent out the message, again and again, that we ought to be able to control our feelings. And certainly it appeared to us as if they controlled theirs. But what was going on behind closed doors? In all likelihood, many of those adults weren’t coping too well with their own painful feelings. They may have been drinking too much, taking tranquillisers, crying themselves to sleep every night, having affairs, throwing themselves into their work or suffering in silence while slowly developing stomach ulcers. However they were coping, they probably didn’t share those experiences with you.
And on those rare occasions when you did get to witness their loss of control, they probably never said anything like, ‘Okay, these tears are because I’m feeling something called sadness. It’s a normal feeling and you can learn how to handle it effectively.’ But then, that’s not too surprising; they couldn’t show you how to handle your emotions because they didn’t know how to handle theirs!
The idea that you should be able to control your feelings was undoubtedly reinforced in your school years. For example, kids who cried at school were probably teased for being ‘cry-babies’ or ‘sissies’—especially if they were boys. Then, as you grew older, you probably heard phrases (or even used them yourself) such as, ‘Get over it!’ ‘Shit happens!’ ‘Move on!’ ‘Chill out!’ ‘Don’t let it bother you!’ ‘Don’t be such a chicken!’ ‘Snap out of it!’ and so on.
The implication of all these phrases is that you should be able to turn your feelings on and off at will, like flicking a switch. And why is this myth so compelling? Because the people around us seem, on the surface, to be happy. They seem to be in control of their thoughts and feelings. But ‘seem’ is the key word here. The fact is that most people are not open or honest about the struggle they go through with their own thoughts and feelings. They ‘put on a brave face’ and ‘keep a stiff upper lip’. They are like the proverbial clown crying on the inside; the bright face paint and chirpy antics are all we see. It’s common in therapy to hear clients say things like, ‘If my friends/family/colleagues could hear me now, they’d never believe it. Everyone thinks I’m so strong/confident/happy/independent...’
Penny, a 30-year-old receptionist, came to see me six months after the birth of her first child. She was feeling tired and anxious and full of self-doubt about her mothering skills. At times she felt incompetent or inadequate and just wanted to run away from all the responsibility. At other times she felt exhausted and miserable and wondered if having a child had been a huge mistake. On top of that, she felt guilty for even having such thoughts! Although Penny attended regular mothers’ group meetings, she kept her problems a secret. The other mothers all seemed so confident, she feared that if she told them how she was feeling, they would look down on her. When Penny eventually plucked up the courage to share her experiences with the other women, her admission broke a conspiracy of silence. The other mothers had all been feeling the same way to one degree or another, but they’d all been