Ever Been Told, “You Shouldn’t Feel That Way?”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

You shouldn’t feel that way.

Get over it.

You’re overreacting.

Have you ever heard any of those statements? Those remarks that leave you angry and confused. Hackles up, yet questioning if the other person is right? Why do people make those remarks? Is it out of ignorance or attack? Are they trying to help or harm? How can we respond those who tell us we do not have the right to feel the way we feel?

I work with middle schoolers – a group that is well recognized for being very emotional and reactive. I have seen a girl become suicidal after a dismissive comment by a friend. I have seen a boy with a shattered face after a fight over a mustard packet. To the outside person, those reactions seem well over the top, like calling the fire department to extinguish a candle. I could have pulled those students aside and told them they were overreacting. I could have said that they should get over it. I could have shared stories of others that had it worse to downplay their feelings.

I think we all realize that such an approach would not be helpful. Simply telling the girl that her despair was stupid or the boy that he shouldn’t be angry would do nothing to dial down their emotions. In fact, it would have made the situation worse because then it would be introducing an element of shame, causing them to question if there is something wrong with them for feeling the way they do.

When we respond with ‘shoulds,’ we are responding only to the surface. If someone appears to be overreacting, there is often much more beneath. That was the case with these two students. The girl’s sister had committed suicide the previous summer. She was feeling abandoned and lost. When her friend slighted her, she felt alone and hopeless. The boy’s family had fallen upon hard times. His only meals were through the school. To him, that packet of mustard was life or death.

So why are we so quick to dismiss the feelings of others? Sometimes, it is from a lack of empathy, an inability or refusal to put yourself in another’s shoes. Sometimes, you may have the empathy but you lack the understanding. Maybe you’re missing key information that explains the reaction. Maybe you want to help, but you’re frustrated and don’t now how.

The truth is that we can never know completely how someone else feels. It’s based on past and perception, two things that are unique to each individual. When it seems that someone’s reaction is over the top, maybe it just means that their brain needs time to catch up with the past pains held in the heart. Rather than berate the brain for not moving faster, try supporting the heart while the brain moves forward. All the heart wants is to be accepted.

If you are the recipient of the ‘shoulds,’ try not to internalize the statement. It is okay to feel the way you feel. Try to see the motivation behind the statement – is this person trying to help you or are they simply unable to comprehend your pain? Also be open to the idea that your past and your perceptions may be harming your present. It’s okay to feel the way you feel and it is also okay to not want to feel that way and to work to make it better.

As for my two students, we (teachers and counselors) worked to validate their feelings in the moment while helping them to understand why they reacted the way they did and how they can cope better in the future. Rather than telling them how they should feel from a place of judgement, we showed them how they could feel better by coming from a place of love. And that is how we should all feel.

You Shouldn’t Feel That Way

Posted on by stilllearning2b

sad

You shouldn’t feel that way.

Get over it.

You’re overreacting.

Have you ever heard any of those statements? Those remarks that leave you angry and confused. Hackles up, yet questioning if the other person is right? Why do people make those remarks? Is it out of ignorance or attack? Are they trying to help or harm? How can we respond those who tell us we do not have the right to feel the way we feel?

I work with middle schoolers – a group that is well recognized for being very emotional and reactive. I have seen a girl become suicidal after a dismissive comment by a friend. I have seen a boy with a shattered face after a fight over a mustard packet. To the outside person, those reactions seem well over the top, like calling the fire department to extinguish a candle. I could have pulled those students aside and told them they were overreacting. I could have said that they should get over it. I could have shared stories of others that had it worse to downplay their feelings.

I think we all realize that such an approach would not be helpful. Simply telling the girl that her despair was stupid or the boy that he shouldn’t be angry would do nothing to dial down their emotions. In fact, it would have made the situation worse because then it would be introducing an element of shame, causing them to question if there is something wrong with them for feeling the way they do.

When we respond with ‘shoulds,’ we are responding only to the surface. If someone appears to be overreacting, there is often much more beneath. That was the case with these two students. The girl’s sister had committed suicide the previous summer. She was feeling abandoned and lost. When her friend slighted her, she felt alone and hopeless. The boy’s family had fallen upon hard times. His only meals were through the school. To him, that packet of mustard was life or death.

So why are we so quick to dismiss the feelings of others? Sometimes, it is from a lack of empathy, an inability or refusal to put yourself in another’s shoes. Sometimes, you may have the empathy but you lack the understanding. Maybe you’re missing key information that explains the reaction. Maybe you want to help, but you’re frustrated and don’t now how.

The truth is that we can never know completely how someone else feels. It’s based on past and perception, two things that are unique to each individual. When it seems that someone’s reaction is over the top, maybe it just means that their brain needs time to catch up with the past pains held in the heart. Rather than berate the brain for not moving faster, try supporting the heart while the brain moves forward. All the heart wants is to be accepted.

If you are the recipient of the ‘shoulds,’ try not to internalize the statement. It is okay to feel the way you feel. Try to see the motivation behind the statement – is this person trying to help you or are they simply unable to comprehend your pain? Also be open to the idea that your past and your perceptions may be harming your present. It’s okay to feel the way you feel and it is also okay to not want to feel that way and to work to make it better.

As for my two students, we (teachers and counselors) worked to validate their feelings in the moment while helping them to understand why they reacted the way they did and how they can cope better in the future. Rather than telling them how they should feel from a place of judgement, we showed them how they could feel better by coming from a place of love. And that is how we should all feel.

How to Apply Labels

Posted on by stilllearning2b

As a teacher, I am quite familiar with the application of labels. Each summer, prior to ever meeting my new students, I study the rosters. Many of the names have associated labels next to them: ADHD, learning disability, autistic, ESOL, etc. These labels are helpful when these children are nothing more than a list of names. It is a starting point.

When I learn that hypothetical Johnny has ADHD, I use that information when I create my first seating chart. I know that he might be a good choice to run an errand to the front office or to help me hand out papers. I won’t be surprised at an off-topic outburst and I’ll have strategies at hand for how to handle one if it occurs. Before ever meeting Johnny, I can have an idea of some of his characteristics and I can plan ahead to meet his needs. However, it would be completely inappropriate for me to stop there. Johnny may have ADHD but he is not his label. As I get to know him, the label loses its importance. The diagnosis tells me nothing of Johnny’s strengths and weaknesses, his adaptive behaviors, his likes and dislikes or especially his personality.

A label should be an anchor, not a limitation.

Whenever I plan a lesson that introduces a new math concept, I start by anchoring the new material to prior knowledge. When I tell students that the new concept is like something they have seen before, it gives them a place to start. Then, as they learn the new material, they can adjust the expectations laid out by the early comparison.

Labels work that same way – they initiate expectations that should be tempered with experience.

When I tell you I am a teacher, you have a starting point for understanding me. You know that I’ve been to college. You can assume that I’m a people person. Maybe you think of a particular teacher in your past. Then, I tell you I grew up in the 1980s. Maybe that causes a revision of your earlier expectations or maybe it just allows you to flesh things out, as you make decisions about what music I may listen to or how I wear my hair. We can continue that process, with each label adding more information and more clarification. Eventually, you would know me and those labels would be inconsequential. Until you were trying to describe me to someone else, that is.

Labels can help us find understanding.

When I went through my divorce, I grasped at labels to describe my husband. I realized that he was not all of the things I thought he was. He was a stranger. So, like we all do when first getting to know someone, I turned to labels to try to develop a framework to anchor new understanding. My favorite designation for him was sociopath. It explained the callousness and extreme nature of the betrayal. It was a starting point. But not the end. As with all labels, some parts fit and others didn’t. As I worked to get to “know” him again, I revised my views, adding some terms and removing others, until the labels no longer mattered.

I use labels when I write about my story. I temper the word ‘divorce’ with ‘tsunami’ to capture the suddenness of my experience. I use the label ‘trauma’ to convey the overwhelming loss. I recently introduced the term ‘PTSD,’ not as a diagnosis, but as a framework to discuss the anxiety and flashbacks that permeated my existence. Those single words hold pages of information. It is a kind of shorthand – a broad strokes sketch of the entire story.

Labels are like Cliff Notes. We use them as shortcuts as we develop our own understanding or to help someone else develop theirs. Just like Cliff Notes, they are not the entire story, full of detail and nuance. If we stop at labels, we are limiting ourselves and others. We may be blinded by assumptions as we fill in the gaps in our knowledge automatically.

Don’t be afraid to use labels but also be careful not to apply them with superglue. They should be used to anchor understanding, not to limit understanding.

Divorce and PTSD

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I wrote before about the link between PTSD and divorce. After the response I received, I decided to take this topic to a wider audience via The Huffington Post.

When my husband left, I trembled for a year. That’s not just some figurative language used to convey emotion; I literally shook. For a year. My body quaked from the aftershocks of the sudden trauma, my legs constantly kicking and my hands quivering. Those weren’t my only symptoms, either. I had flashbacks and nightmares that took me back to the to the day where I received the text that ended my marriage. The 21-word incoming message read: “I am sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I am leaving you and leaving the state.” From then on, the sound of an incoming message would actually send me to the floor, where I braced myself for another digital attack. I felt numb and had trouble remembering aspects of my marriage or my husband. I avoided sights and sounds that were associated with my marriage, often driving well out of my way to steer clear of my old neighborhood. I couldn’t sleep; I was hyper alert, always scanning every room and ready to fight or flee at any moment. I could not eat and my weight fell to dangerous levels.

Visit The Huffington Post to read the rest of the piece.

The Secret Keepers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

secrets

My ex husband came from an alcoholic family. And if there is one thing alcoholic families excel at, it’s keeping secrets.

My ex learned his role from a young age. He didn’t discuss his parents with others. He didn’t invite his friends over to his house. He learned how to keep a low profile and stay out of the line of fire. He learned not to have expectations of his parents and how to survive on his own. He learned to shut his door and shut his mouth.

I thought he could overcome his family.

I was brought into the inner folds of the family within a few short months of dating. He told me the stories of his dad passed out on the couch or drunk at his birthday party. I received a call when his dad was taken by ambulance to the emergency room due to excessive alcohol consumption. He relayed the tales of his mom, weeping and emotional, turning to her son for support in the middle of the night. I saw the endless rum and cokes. I witnessed the change in his parents as they drank to hide their pain. I perceived the unsaid behind the silences.

I still thought he could overcome his family.

When I helped his mom rearrange the living room, she showed me his baby pictures which we had unearthed. I learned some of the family secrets. I discovered that his father had been married before and had technically committed bigamy, since the divorce from wife number one was not yet final. I learned of his father’s disgraceful exit from the military and equally disgraceful exit from what was a very prestigious career. I heard about the mismanagement of money and how they went from earning six figures to living in a crumbling house in a undesirable area.

I still thought he could overcome his family.

My ex husband strove to separate himself from his parents. He was determined not to make their mistakes. He looked to the Boy Scouts to be his surrogate parents. He made friends and joined their families. He was driven to succeed and to escape his lineage. He lived in fear of turning into his father.

I still thought he could overcome his family.

He may not have kept the family secrets from me, but he still applied those lessons to other areas. There was an incident at scout camp shortly before we started dating. An incident that left several long ropey parallel scars across his lower back. He never did reveal what happened. I actually looked for familiar names and locations on the recently released list of scout leaders that had been convicted of sexual crimes. Nothing stood out. But I wonder…

I still thought he could overcome his family.

But apparently those lessons of silence and secrets were too embedded. The skill set just waiting in the wings until the right moment came along. When he began to struggle during our marriage (with money, alcohol, depression, employment…who knows?), his reflexes kicked in and he covered it up. He kept silent and he kept secrets. And through those secrets, he turned his biggest fear into reality. He became his father.

I wish that he had been able to overcome his family. And I hope that it is not too late for him. I hope that he is able to see the truth and no longer be compelled to keep it a secret.