It’s well-documented that I should be excluded from doing yard work. Any insurance company looking at my record would recognize the wisdom of immediately calling in the Coast Guard rather than paying the bills that result when I take the DIY approach. This was particularly well illustrated the time that I, a novice, attempted to mow the lawn and fell into a rose bush. Surely it’s obvious that the surgical removal of the thorn from my knee (read: injection, scalpel, etc.) was far more costly for the insurance company than a willing teen helper. (Add to that my racing to answer a ringing telephone, discovering in the process that the cockatiel had escaped onto the kitchen floor, and being protractedly bitten during its rescue — and the case is sealed.)
The psychological parallel to the thorn from that rosebush is what I refer to as an emotional thorn. Past trauma is an example of an emotional thorn that needs removal, and there are many smaller examples that happen every day. If you’ve been painfully misunderstood, that’s an emotional thorn. If your feelings have been hurt by someone’s words, even accidentally, that’s an emotional thorn. Stumbling over your words in a conversation with your boss; having your concerns treated dismissively — these are all simple splinters that can be extracted immediately, but stand to become infected, or, at the very least distracting, if they aren’t.
Misunderstandings create barriers that can seriously erode relationships. Your own mistakes and missteps, if not understood, can leave you with a festering sense of inadequacy. Unprocessed trauma can do this, too. All of this spells depression.
The point of the rosebush tale is that as notoriously penny-pinching as insurance companies are, no one suggested that the thorn could stay in. No one said, “It’s a thorn, for crying out loud. Brave up!”
This was not magnanimous on their part. It was simply cost-effective. An embedded thorn can become infected — and then the bills really mount up.
The fact is, I did take the ignore-it-and-it’ll-go-away approach — for close to a year, and it did (mostly) stop hurting after awhile. From my point of view, a little pain and the sort of tattoo effect of the splinter required far less in the way of personal fortitude than doing something about them. (Evidently the doctor had encountered many others with this same gutless orientation, a fact that I ascertained when, in a single flowing maneuver, he deftly clamped my ankle under his arm in an anti-kick position and pulled the previously concealed hypodermic needle out of his coat pocket.)
We seem to accept the wisdom of promptly removing foreign objects. And it’s patently obvious that you can’t remove a splinter by loudly asserting to the person that a broken leg would have been a real pain. Has anyone ever successfully removed a shard of glass by simply proclaiming that it’s no big deal?
Emotional thorns, whether they’re your own or someone else’s, are best handled in the same action-oriented way you’d take if you got a splinter from the deck. Like splinters, they’re actually very easy to remove, and they don’t have to escalate into an infection. And they won’t, if you’re willing to take them seriously and address them.
It takes some courage and trust to expose hurt feelings so they can be healed. Here are a few tips to get you started:
- When feelings are hurt, don’t demand of yourself (or anyone else) to “ignore it and it will go away.” If you think of it metaphorically, that’s simply nonsense!
- Instead, seek to understand it — even if your own actions turn out to be the source of the pain. You might say to your child — or spouse — “When I kept reading my book when you were talking, you thought I didn’t care about what you were saying.”
- If you were on the receiving end, start with a question — like, “What should I take from the fact that I’m talking about something that is important to me, and you are continuing to read?” If you begin to see that the other person is simply too busy to listen right then, a toxic blow to your self esteem is averted. If there’s more to it, you can have a constructive conversation.
- Validate, don’t deny. Whether it’s about your own uncomfortable feelings or someone else’s, acknowledge them. “Your [my] feelings are really hurt,” starts the process of eliminating the emotional thorn. “It’s ridiculous of you to be angry,” by contrast, makes the area redden and become more painful.
- Get help to work through trauma. It’s not only the event itself that can affect you on for decades after it’s over; even more so, it’s the beliefs you develop about yourself as a result that create “infection” that needs to be treated.
- Small splinters count. Isn’t it amazing how you can tell when there’s the tiniest of splinters in your finger or your foot? That signal allows you to remove it before it gets embedded or infected. Small emotional splinters work the same way. Your awareness of feeling slighted or invalidated is a signal to take action. By learning to deal with these everyday occurrences easily, painful dips in your mood will level out and your relationships will deepen.
- Sometimes removing the thorn is as simple and silent as validating yourself — a quick acknowledgement of your own feelings. This becomes second nature, replacing the less helpful reflex to chastise yourself for feeling upset.
- Can you ever ignore an emotional thorn? I’d rather see you develop the reflex to validate your own feelings than to ignore or suppress them. Remember — acknowledging discomfort doesn’t mean you have to take action. But be careful here; it’s a slippery slope once you start dismissing rather than acting on your feelings, and that choice often has more to do with keeping others happy than taking care of yourself. Unless the situation is of no importance, it’s better to deal, either within yourself if that’s where the discomfort is coming from, or with the other person, if change is needed.
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