#emotional regulation

#emotional regulation

I feel like I'm much more settled, calm, more in control. Whenever I feel like going crazy on my team, I just pet Ash and I feel better.

Distress tolerance is the perception and ability to tolerate emotional discomfort without allowing it to derail your actions (or your relationships). When we believe we can make space for challenging emotions, our behavior isn't focused on getting rid of them. This then opens us up to responding in ways that align with our values.

As Americans feel increasingly pessimistic about the future, the pressure to "stay positive" has never been more intense-or misplaced. Psychology has long shown that suppressing difficult emotions does not make them disappear. It makes the nervous system more reactive. When sadness, fear, and anger are treated as problems to eliminate rather than signals to understand, the brain remains on high alert. This is one reason forced positivity so often backfires, amplifying anxiety rather than easing it.

Growing up, I became an expert at reading the room before I even knew what that meant. When my parents' voices would rise from the kitchen, I'd already be mentally preparing my peacekeeping strategy. Should I crack a joke to break the tension? Distract them with a question about homework? Or maybe just quietly start doing the dishes to remind them I was there? By the time they divorced when I was twelve, I'd spent years perfecting the art of emotional regulation.

Teens can retreat into themselves when they find themselves confronted by difficult emotional circumstances. At times it is important and constructive to leave them to themselves as they adjust to these challenges. Parents often find it emotionally troubling to watch as their child has difficulty and want to fix things. It is important for the development of independence that a child be left to learn how to work things out.

We live in a fast-paced world that glorifies productivity. That often means prioritizing work ahead of your mental health or even your personal life. There's a constant push to do more, achieve more, and get it done more quickly - and the clock starts ticking the moment you wake up. It's hard to break free from this mindset and put yourself first, often leading to burnout. Enter morning journaling.

Last week, I caught myself starting The Office for what must be the fifteenth time. My partner walked in, saw Jim pranking Dwight with the stapler in Jell-O, and just shook his head. "Again?" he asked. And honestly? I couldn't explain why I kept going back to the same show when there's literally endless content available at my fingertips. But here's the thing: I'm not alone in this.

Some of the most meaningful forms of growth an individual can experience happen beneath their conscious awareness. Typically, it registers first as discomfort, ambiguity, or even a sense of regression. When growth is happening at a person's core level, they're likely to underestimate it or misinterpret it entirely. As a psychologist, I often see individuals who assume they're "stuck" precisely when some of the most important internal shifts are underway. This is because the mind rarely announces these changes with clarity.

Someone says something to us, and we are suddenly struck with a sinking feeling in our stomach. Someone does something, and instantly we become enraged or alarmed. Someone comes at us with a certain attitude, and we go to pieces. We hear mention of a person, place, or thing that is associated with an unresolved issue or a past trauma, and we immediately feel ourselves seize up with sadness, anger, fear, or shame.

A child was struggling to breathe after surgery. Monitors beeped erratically, staff spoke in rushed fragments, and fear hung in the air so thick it felt like fog. The mother stood frozen in shock. A nurse-one of those rare people who radiates groundedness-walked in. She didn't speak at first. She simply approached the mother, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and breathed slowly, visibly, intentionally.