At my sixth birthday party I was sent to my room for ‘showing off’. As a child I was expected to be ‘seen and not heard’. At school I was thrown out of class for talking and at home I was told to ‘pipe down’. When I was excited about something and wanting to tell my parents I was told, ‘not now, we’re busy’.
It wasn’t only my joyful exuberance that I was admonished or punished for. It was not acceptable to be angry, I was told off for sulking, and a common mantra in my household was ‘don’t argue’.
I learnt to keep things to myself, to hide what I was feeling for fear of rebuke or disapproval. It was easier to keep quiet than rock the boat. My interests and curiosity went underground and I became secretive. I took to journaling as a way of recounting my daily activities and recording how I felt. I became more insular and isolated, unable to share, and I used food to stuff down my feelings.
As an adult I would find myself in situations where I thought I was taking up too much of people’s time, where I felt that I was talking too loudly, or too much.
When I did share my latest interest or curiosity I felt strangely uncomfortable, as if in uncharted territory, my breathing shallow and my talking faster than normal. Almost as if it was dangerous and I was going to be ‘found out’.
This inability to share what is going on, the withdrawal and shutting down, can have an adverse effect on all areas of our lives. We stop asking for what we need, we think that what we feel doesn’t matter, and we don’t offer our gifts to the world.
My conditioning, a legacy of Victorian morals, was pretty common. Its impact was profound and, despite the less draconian values today, many of us still believe that we need to maintain a stiff upper lip, not put our heads above the parapet, keep ourselves to ourselves and not boast about our achievements. Sharing how we feel can be further limited by our fears that we might be seen as needy, dependent, weak, self-absorbed, or high maintenance.
All of these constrictions limit our healthy functioning in the world and keep us half the people we could and should be. Denying both our joys and our challenges - by not expressing ourselves, by not sharing - can keep us small, make us unwell, prevent us from connecting with others, increase loneliness and contribute to mental illness. These are all very real states, with serious physical and emotional consequences to ourselves, those close to us, and our communities.
Whereas I used to judge people who ‘put themselves out there’ as trying to get attention, or stealing the limelight, I can see now that they are simply being themselves, sharing their talents in ways that they love and having fun along the way. Expressing what is important to them, honouring what really matters, sharing their joy and reaching out to others is a healthy way to live.
Inherent in our self-expression is an exploration of our own process. Whether through art, or theatre, cooking, or writing, we grapple with what we want to convey, and what we want to impart. We create a space in which other, more worldly, stuff can enter, and somehow open that up to others too. We can access a deeper place when we share or create, one that goes beyond the form - an energetic reality that fills us and permeates the space outside of ourselves. Our work is imbued with, and informed by, an inner wisdom that is also received by others.
Expressing ourselves includes acknowledging our deepest, darkest fears and perceived flaws. Admitting to them leads to greater acceptance. Shining a light on them makes them less frightening, more normal. The more vulnerable we can be, the more honestly we can describe our feelings and reactions, the more authentic we become and the easier it is to navigate our lives.
The need to express is simply an energy that needs to move through us, presented by means of movement, art, sound, touch, activities.
If not expressed it doesn’t go away.
It is not up to us to understand it, analyse it or know how to do it. We simply need to respond, in the moment, to whatever is arising.
Getting it out is worlds apart from bottling it up.
The result of sharing is a release, a letting go, a feeling of calm, the dissipation of the energy that needed to move, the dissolving of held-in emotions.
Sharing is a form of creation. For some there is a vision, to make visible or audible or tangible, to create in reality a concept or an idea. But for all of us the act of sharing is in itself the creation - the making of marks, the writing of words, the voicing of sounds. Transient, temporary, an evolving into something deeper, or different. It might seem that there is little point if nothing is going to be ‘produced’, nothing achieved.
But imagine this energy having nowhere to go. Being suppressed, simmering under the surface, finally exploding when all outlets have been blocked. Or causing total shutdown, paralysis, depression. If not acknowledged or allowed, the effects of not expressing our deepest urges can come out in unhealthy, destructive ways. Self-harm, violence to others, frustrations meted out in everyday life, withdrawal from the world, and even suicide or murder in the most extreme cases.
Sharing ourselves, our art, our process does not need to involve others but can be a way of sharing with ourselves, expressing what we want to say in the privacy and safety of our own space. We can use our writing as a form of listening. Of hearing ourselves. Of acknowledging what is going on for us, a way of slowing down and seeing what is actually here.
We may have to do this before being able to show up in the wider world. As we gain confidence, as we see the benefits, as we feel different, we can start to open up in front of others, to a wider audience.
Start small. Jot down a few notes on a scrap of paper, sing along to a track on the radio, try a few dance moves. Start safe – at home, alone, where people don’t see you, where you can’t be criticised or ridiculed. Sense how it changes the way you feel, see the difference in your state of mind.
It has taken me a long time to know that it was not me that was wrong when I was sent to my room. It was the suppression of my natural energy, my me-ness, that was fundamentally wrong. My deepest core knew it too, my body reacting with an intense anger that belied all rationality.
Learn to listen to your impulses and express your unique selves however you are moved to.
Let Life live through you, unimpeded.