A strong indicator of emotional maturity, for me, is the ability to have difficult conversations. Having a conversation that you do not want to have, while accompanied by an all-you-can-eat buffet of emotional resistance, demonstrates a healthy balance between self-awareness, empathy, vulnerability and trust. Or, at the very least, we hope to have that balance going into it. And we hope that the same virtues are exercised by our interlocutor.
But we don’t always show up the way we want to or are frustrated by not feeling heard by the other person. The difficulty of weighty conversations is, in part, that things could go wrong. They are also difficult because they are important to us; we care about the emotional and substantive outcomes. They can create hurt.
Processing and avoiding
Considering all of this, it’s understandable to adopt an avoidant stance towards confrontation by wishfully waiting for a problem to go away, and only dealing with it if it reaches the point of crisis.
The thing about difficult conversations, however, is that we have them not only to address problems, but to prevent them. When we perceive a potential impasse and choose to ignore it, we become responsible for it when it becomes a problem.
Avoidance is insidious to trust. We trust ourselves to do what we feel is right, and we fail ourselves when we ignore our feelings. Others trust us to do the same—at least if they want a healthy and reciprocal relationship.
That being said, there has to be room to be human. Sometimes we need time to process our feelings, which is not the same as avoidance. Dealing with and being accountable to/for our own emotions is part and parcel of a respectful relationship; it is unreasonable to dump our emotional reactions onto others and expect them to have all the answers.
It is unreasonable to dump our emotional reactions onto others and expect them to have all the answers.
So what is the difference between avoiding a problem and taking time away from it? The way I see it is that the differences can be understood by external and internal criteria. An external difference between avoidance and processing is what we do when we are around the person or people of concern. If we have a genuine (not forced) opportunity to open up a dialogue, then this may be a good time to start.
That doesn’t mean you must have everything thought out and ready to articulate, or that you’re going to have a conversation at all. Sometimes it’s enough to let them know you’re going through something and are not quite yourself.
An internal difference is something like whether or not we acknowledge our feelings to ourselves or simply pretend that they don’t matter.
The next time you find yourself in the grips of an emotion that involves another person, try to exercise mindfulness. Allow the feeling to wash over you, allow your thoughts to be filled with all its impressions and judgments, but hold off on acting. Hold off on trying to challenge the thoughts and regain your footing.
Western culture, historically, has been dismissive of feelings, yet we have no right to mute them. They deserve to be here just as much as we do. Control over our emotions by the sheer power of will is a myth. We cannot take their power away, nor can they take ours. We can always ask, “How much of this is me bringing my experiences to the situation?”
Another question we may ask is, “How much do I identify with my emotional response, and how much of it feels beyond me?” Trying to parse out the border between ourselves and our automatic responses is taxing, but it is helpful to know your ‘buttons’ so that you may communicate them and avoid having them pushed.
Consider, for example, a case when a friend makes a comment about your appearance that you do not appreciate. Your automatic response may be one of searing anger, as you imagine that your friend is judging your appearance and has been for as long as they’ve known you. In this instance, allow the reaction its time under the spotlight. When you’re ready, start thinking about how much you agree or disagree with your internal outburst.
The other person may ask “Are you feeling OK?” and you are well within your rights to say, “I’m not, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet”. Here you are, already expressing a boundary, which is integral to exercising autonomy.
Boundaries and autonomy
The relationship between boundaries and autonomy is fascinating. A culturally accepted view of emotion in North America is that it stands in direct opposition to rationality. In a sense, there is truth to the dichotomy. When we are enveloped by a feeling, our usual means of controlling and directing our thoughts and actions are rendered futile. Where the dichotomy misses the mark, however, is that rationality depends on emotion for its efficacy.
We assume that, in our most “rational” states, we are unbothered by or free from emotion. What we fail to realize is that we do feel something. We may feel safe, comfortable, focused or weightless. These sensations are not the result of an absence of emotion; they result from feeling supported and protected.
When we truly feel safe, we are open to the world. We feel autonomous, unshackled by fear, doubt or hesitation. When things are good, though, we are not mindful of the boundaries that keep trouble out of reach. Our conscious and unconscious boundaries, whether they apply to ourselves, our environment or others, keep us from being overwhelmed and provide a space for freedom of movement in which we can make decisions.
For example, I have a very agreeable personality. I empathize with others very easily, and struggle, at times, to feel my own feelings in the presence of other people’s emotions. Over time, I have come to understand the consequences of agreeableness; I might not assert my own perspective and interests, and my conscience will let me know it incessantly.
With that realization came a shift in my boundaries, and I’m thankful for having to experience and sit with some very uncomfortable feelings. I have a better understanding of what I need to feel loved, supported and safe, and my sense of autonomy is healthier for it.
Returning to our example from earlier, confessing that you need time to deal with your emotions is an important boundary to set. If you don’t make it known, then someone may continue to press the question and risk aggravating you to the point of an outburst.
Notice how, when you set a boundary for others, there is normally a correlative boundary for yourself. The boundary of “I’m not ready to talk about it yet” is just as much to reassure someone that you’re aware of your demeanour, you’re keeping communication open and that you’re working on it, as it is an exercise of respecting your own boundary to not fly off the handle and say mean/untruthful things.
Let’s say that you sit with your feelings for some time, but find that you stop making progress. You keep returning to thoughts along the lines of, “They said that to hurt my feelings. They think it’s OK to treat me with disrespect. They think so little of me.”
Nonetheless, you’ve mounted challenges against these assumptions, arguing that it could have been a misunderstanding or that the other person is having an off-day themselves. You’ve made yourself answerable to your own feelings and established where you may be projecting past hurt. But the feelings linger. Now, all there is to do is talk about it honestly and openly with the other person or avoid the conflict.
It may seem as if you’re right back where we started, but that is far from the truth. Having worked through your own emotions, you will have a greater appreciation of the situation and its personal significance, rather than discovering those things in the aftermath of letting your emotions trample your autonomy. Furthermore, you will have a better idea of what bothered you about their comment and will be able to communicate about the issue more effectively.
Emotional maturity
There’s a lot at stake in difficult conversations and in working through uncomfortable emotions. You may discover things about yourself, the other person or the relationship that attack your sense of self or your understanding of your world. I think emotional maturity, however, involves a certain level of risk.
Going back to our example, you may decide to discuss how your friend’s comment made you feel insecure and unsure of how they feel about you. You could tell them about the feelings that came up, and how some of them have more to do with situations in the past that had to do with your body image. All the same, you aren’t comfortable with comments about your appearance, even if they’re meant in jest.
How they respond isn’t really up to you, even though it may affect you deeply. You may discover a true friend after all—someone who is compassionate, patient, understanding and supportive. Or you may discover someone who is going through their own struggles and isn’t showing up the way they want to.
Whatever the result may be, part of emotional maturity is putting yourself out there authentically while recognizing that things may change and not work out. Put another way, it is better to fail authentically than to succeed in a lie.
We are all on our own journeys toward self-realization and emotional maturity. Here I am talking about it, but I fail to show up exactly as I’d like to all the time. Sometimes in big ways, more often in small ones. But every time I try to show up, I learn something I didn’t know before. And on the rare occasions when I show up better than I could have hoped, I can look back and thank all those times I fell short for getting me there.
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image 1 Andrew Martin from Pixabay 2 image by Cedric E from Pixabay 3 image by Press ?? Love you ? from Pixabay
