Don't Manage Your Emotions

They might be doorways to re-invent your life

I looked at Alex, my manager. He had an expression with a soft gaze that you’d probably equate to Mother Theresa’s. 

Tears started streaming down my cheeks. I immediately pulled out my metal-rimmed spectacles and covered my face with my palms.

We were in our weekly 1-on-1 meeting a month after my maternity leave. I took a deep breath and said, “I want to grow faster, and become a senior engineer, but I also want to work less. I want to spend more time with my newborn daughter.” 

Then I mumbled from behind my hands, “So sorry. It must be my hormones. Please give me a minute.”

As I said those words, I became aware of the quiet storm raging inside me— frustration, guilt, shame, and sadness. Frustrated that fixing a simple bug took me two weeks, which would have previously taken two days. Guilty for wanting to move faster up the promotion ladder. Shame that I was at work while good mothers would watch their newborns sleep. And sadness about crying in front of my manager— “There I go again, so out of control with emotions!”

The treasure under the emotions

Friends, I had always been an easy crier.

I cried when I couldn’t find my books before school while yelling at my brother for hiding them. I cried when my Dad said I couldn’t have pizza from the newly opened Domino’s in my neighborhood mall. I cried when my husband said he wasn’t particularly interested in shopping, and I wanted to get a dress for my 25th birthday from Macy’s.

The smallest of reactions triggered storms of sadness and tears. I felt out of control each time. They depleted my energy, gave me a headache, and, most importantly, always ruined my kajal (Indian eyeliner). 

Until I started studying under my spiritual teacher¹, and learned self-inquiry methods to understand my subconscious mind.

In a rare light-bulb moment, I uncovered an anger hiding behind all those emotional storms. Rage — that’s more like the word. Rage at the world for not meeting my desires. Rage at myself for not being the best. Rage that I was unlovable and unworthy. If I were worthy enough, the world would give me everything I wanted, say that I was the best, and never criticize me, correct? That’s the logic of my emotions.

I believe “Manage your emotions” is useless advice. It doesn’t work. But more notably, I was already managing them. 

I’ve developed intricate strategies to avoid getting triggered and appear a more sorted person.

First, I vowed never to cry in public. So, I hit the brakes before conversations got too personal. When close friends eventually touched certain depths, I magically got curious and empathetic about them…”Well, that’s me. How’s Arya doing these days at school?” Imagine Sherlock Holmes became a life coach. And when the emotional storms came out, I would retreat to my cave, and nobody would hear from me for weeks. Over the years, I became resistant to human connection and branded myself an introvert. 

Second, I vowed to improve (read perfect)  at everything. So, I’ve learned to work extra hard and push myself out of my comfort zone, almost to my detriment. I needed to sign up for courses and work on the right tasks to get the next promotion. I needed to make sure my daughter never cried and napped perfectly. I needed to make sure no one in my family was ever upset. I pushed myself to perfection in every aspect— perfect engineer, perfect mother, and perfect partner so I would never feel sad again because I couldn’t meet others’ expectations (which were actually my own).

As you can guess, these strategies didn’t always work, and the emotional storms would make an appearance. 

I designed my life around avoiding facing the storms, delicately balancing through ambitiousness, introversion, and perfectionism. It was exhausting, to say the least. 

Does “feeling emotions” get you out?

The standard pop psychology says we need to feel through emotions.

That may be true to a certain extent. But, wasn’t I feeling them when I retreated to my cave? What if there was another route than years of talk therapy, anger management classes, or destruction rooms²?

There is.

Eastern wisdom says humans have an inherent sense of lack³. Our sense-maker, a.k.a. the mind, puts language to this sense of lack through “stories” subconsciously: I’m unworthy, I’ll stay irrelevant, I’m not good enough, I’m unlovable, I’m insignificant, everything is hard, I should do better, I’m a burden, I’m a failure, etc, etc., etc.

We all have different versions of them. We justify, validate, and keep them alive through our emotions. Why would we ever do such a thing? Because we get love, approval, and resources from our parents, peers, and society.

KavithaJi, as I lovingly call my teacher, posed three questions quite directly:

1. How does this benefit you?

Hmm… If I am angry at the world and myself, I can push myself harder. I can do more.

2. Why?

Then, everyone will love and accept me.

3. Is that true?

Err… 

4. So?

… (no words at this point)

And on went the inquiry into the stories I’ve learned to keep alive.

My biggest insight was I needed to “face” the swirling subconscious stories. Not “feel” my way through the emotions keeping these stories alive.

My stories of unworthiness were the root of my perfectionism, social anxiety, self-doubt, introversion, inability to take feedback, poor boundaries, and the diva doormat syndrome.

Where’s the treasure again?

Through the thorny path of inquiry, I finally had to face the possibility that I was not emotionally sensitive but that my emotional range was minuscule. I could not “feel” anything other than anger or sadness as long as I kept these stories alive.

And friends, it took well over a year to see every time I get triggered as an opportunity to examine the 1000 ways I succumbed to my story of unworthiness. It took immense courage to face the fact that I created a life of insane ambition, social introversion, and delicate perfectionism.

Nobody else was responsible. Not my parents. Not my family. Not God.

I created my life.

Life was not happening to me.

I created my life.

This is good news. Because now, I redesign my life around fun and play instead of perfectionism. Around meeting interesting people instead of meeting income goals. Around optimizing for creative inspiration instead of minimizing self-doubt. Around modeling power and grace instead of shrinking away from tough conversations.

So, dear readers, don’t manage your emotions.

Your emotional triggers are doorways to the treasure of subconscious stories that dictate your life. Whether you’re a silent crier( like me), an angry stomper, or a tranquil Buddha with a raging inner volcano, it’s simply a manifestation of your sense of lack.

Inquire.

Re-invent your life.

And if you find yourself in a situation where you’re triggered at the workplace (or even in your personal life), say, “There is sadness right now. I know it’ll pass. I’ll get back to you with a response by the end of the day today.” That’s what I would have said to my manager 4 years ago if I knew what I now know— no need for shame, guilt, or embarrassment.

When you get adept at self-inquiry, you may not need the entire day. You can return to the scene in 5 minutes, like I do now. Alright, okay... Maybe not always, but it’s much better, you guys. I can safely say I’m not a crier anymore.

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1. I studied self-inquiry and other methods under my teacher, Kavitha Chinnaiyan. I found her through pure chance and a lot of grace. It was invaluable in discovering the ways I limited myself. You can check out more of her work here. I strongly recommend working with a teacher or a coach to escape the sneaky subconscious stories.

2. Apparently, destruction rooms are a thing. If you’ve tried them, did they work for you?

3. The Tantric yoga scriptures describe the origin of individuality and the ways we’re veiled from OneNess. One of these ways is a sense of lack, anava mala. More here.