If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…Go Ahead and Speak

If you can’t say anything nice then don’t say anything at all. Sound familiar?

So if you’re angry as Hell, hurt, betrayed, humiliated, insulted, bullied, disrespected, or abused and you don’t have anything nice to say, you better just keep quiet. Right? I mean, we’re keeping this high vibe, aren’t we?

Practice compassion for those who wrong you. Stuff your anger into that tiny little part of your soul and sit on it so you can fit it all in before you zip it up. And don’t unpack for a while because it’s not going to be appropriate for you to express your feelings. It’s not okay to feel things, unless they’re good.

And if you do have to unpack, make sure you find proper help. Someone who can help you analyze that anger until you have some kind of reason for it that makes sense and helps you express it appropriately. By all means, don’t scream or yell, or spew your nastiness on anyone. Go punch a pillow instead. That should work.

But it doesn’t, does it?

Stuffing a rag in your mouth and suffocating your scream and punching a pillow until stuffing pops out — it’s just not working. The anger is so deep. It’s the kind people talk about when someone blows. And that’s so not appropriate. No matter what someone did or said to you — you should learn how to detach, realize it’s not personal, remain calm, demure even.

If you don’t, you’ll most likely lose everything. Your family, your job, your friends, your sanity. Nobody has time for your anger. You’re wrong for feeling it in the first place.

Children (especially girl children) should be seen and not heard. So if you have something to say, don’t. I mean, if you want to talk about school, or your friends, or what great thing you did today then I’ll listen for a bit. But if you’re mad, upset, disappointed or sad, well it’s better not to feel and just have a time out until you can think about what you did.

But that doesn’t work either.

It’s one more thing to stuff into the already over-stuffed bag. And your zipper is splitting at the seam. You’re unable to leverage it. You’re going to need someone else to sit on it for you so you can use two hands. “Here, let me help you with that.” “There, we got it.”

Now close your eyes and meditate. Say that nice little mantra you like to say. What is it again? Everything’s working out for my best and highest good. I’m so happy and grateful now.

The demon inside won’t have it. It reminds you you’re pissed. It rips your wound open again and leaves it raw and bleeding. Why would they treat you like that, it asks, even though there’s no real answer. Even though you’ve come up with a few good ones over the decades to try to keep your demon happy and quiet.

You have unresolved anger issues. You’ll need to get some help with that. Maybe an anger management class or something? How about kick boxing? But you’ve done that stuff. You’ve managed your anger so well others don’t even know it’s there. They see perfection. Exactly like you practiced. Your demon waits in the alley after boxing class.

Okay, here, take this pill. This should help you feel better. If you can’t control your anger we’ll have to control it for you. Numb you up a little. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary. As soon as you get a handle on this, we can wean you off. Unless of course you’re addicted. That might be a little more difficult. Oh and by the way, you might not be able to sleep. Or really enjoy life very much anymore. If you feel suicidal, make sure and call someone, okay?

So you take the pill because they told you to. And it feels better for a while. Until your heart starts palpitating and you haven’t slept in a month. They give you another pill for that. But the interaction of the pills causes anxiety. And dry mouth. You’re so thirsty. And tired. Your friends start leaving. They don’t know how to help you.

What if you’d been allowed to be angry in the first place? What if someone knew how to give you permission to feel. Everything. In a productive, safe, and healing sort of way? How would that have made everything different?

What if you’d been allowed your feelings? Allowed to be mad as Hell? And respected through it. What if you’d not been told you were bad or wrong for acting that way? What if you’d been seen and heard? How would that have felt?

You can breathe now can’t you? Just the thought of the world allowing you to be yourself, feel your feelings and express the ones you can’t hold or stuff, it helps. The thought of holding onto that feeing of hurt and pain for one more second — it’s tough isn’t it? It’d be a miracle if someone would just listen. Allow. Notice. Detach. Not judge. Love you anyway.

We’ve been taught to stuff the pain and anger. We’ve been taught it’s wrong to feel. We’ve been taught we’re bad if we express it; that good girls don’t do that. We’ve been taught how to behave. We’ve been taught not to hurt anyone’s feelings, no matter how they treated us.

We’ve been taught to serve up a slice of our soul to those who’ve hurt us and say thank you while we watch them eat it.

We’ve been taught we have an obligation to certain people to be nice. No matter what. That to be angry is wrong. That to express it, even worse. That to express it publicly is an abomination, an embarrassment.

So sorry you feel embarrassed by the public expression of my truth. Wait, let me tone that down a bit so you feel better. All good? Great, here, take another bite of my soul.

I have another idea. How about you take responsibility for your feelings. And let me have mine. How about you try not to take my stuff personally and recognize I’ll have to move through it at my own pace, in my own way. How about you just let me be angry without the guilt. How about you stop telling me I’m bad for the way I feel and the way I express it. How about you start understanding that your right and wrong might not be the only right and wrong.

What if at a very young age, we taught our children it’s okay to feel what they feel, even anger? And that they were worth loving even when they were angry. What if as children we felt seen, heard and respected, even in our worst moments of emotion? What if our parents weren’t so obsessed with controlling us and our behavior and more obsessed with loving us?

What if we’d heard, “I love you,” more than we heard, “You’re bad!” Or “Tell me,” instead of “Shut up!” What if our parents had the patience to listen. Allow us our voice. Make us believe it mattered?

What if we recognized the layer of fear underneath the anger? What if we remembered it as a call for more love? What if we looked our children in the eye when they were angry and remembered what’s really happening; that they’re afraid, and helped them know we loved them anyway. And that it’s okay to feel what they feel.

What if?

aura Di Franco, MPT is a holistic physical therapist, published author, poet, blogger and black belt with over two decades of experience in healing. Her transformational programs combine the empowering tools of body awareness and therapeutic writing to help you learn the language of your intuition and gain the clarity you crave for your life and business. Laura’s enthusiasm is contagious and the spark that’ll inspire you to make the change you’ve been afraid to make. She’s the sherpa you’ve been looking for! Want a workshop that’ll give you practical powerful tools you can use to heal yourself today? Find them at www.BraveHealer.com And more free inspiration on my Facebook page HERE.

Your words will change the world when you’re brave enough to share them! www.BraveHealer.com