I do not need money. I need feelings, words, words chosen with care, flowers called thoughts, roses called presence, dreams that inhabit the trees, songs that make statues dance, stars that whisper into the ears of lovers. I need poetry, this magic that burns away the heaviness of words, awakens emotions, and gives new colors.
Alda Merini
I am a psychologist and psychotherapist, the daughter of psychoanalysts, so I grew up convinced that my “mind that feels” had always been trained, aware, and even quite determined. Over time, perhaps as I reached adulthood, I realized that my “mind that thinks” is actually much more present than I had imagined.
Through my work, I have had, and still have, the opportunity to observe the complexity of human relationships from a privileged and ever-changing perspective. I always feel as if I were going to the theater, able to see the same play each time from a different seat or from the stage itself. Yet there is something that does not change, that remains constant from every angle of observation: the power and force of the emotions we experience, often without even being aware of them, in determining the outcome of every relational exchange.
And yet we live in an era that Goleman describes as one of emotional literacy. How, then, is it possible not to take care of our emotional vocabulary, of our relationship with ourselves, and of the relationships we build with others?
We are made of emotions, yet we often do not know how to name them. First of all, what do we mean when we speak of emotion? The vocabulary provides this definition:
“A psychological and physical state of response of a human being to an internal or external stimulus.”
The word emotion also derives from the Latin e/moveo, which means to move away from something, or better, to be moved or shifted by something. Indeed, this is what happens when, in the ordinary flow of our day, something or someone triggers a movement within us—positive or negative—perception to which we assign the name of emotion.
If, for a moment, we abstract from the judgment linked to what we feel, especially for those emotions we perceive as unpleasant, even frightening or deeply disturbing, and instead look at the phenomenology of what happens to us, we can see that, given a stimulus, the first to act is our body. It is activated in a more or less evident way at the muscular, cardiac, and nervous levels. Without delving too deeply into the detailed workings of our brain, we can note that when a situation shifts us from our normal condition, scientifically referred to as homeostasis, we first experience a stimulation of the limbic part of our brain, the oldest part developed long before Homo sapiens, which triggers a series of chemicals to prepare us to face the situation. Next, we experience a bodily response, and finally, a rationalization of the event. All of this occurs within a fraction of a second.
For example, consider what happens when something sudden frightens us and demands an immediate response. In a fraction of a second, the limbic system sends a signal to our adrenal glands to produce adrenaline, which acts on our muscles, making them ready to react and cope with the situation that triggered our fear. Only afterward do we tell ourselves that we acted because we were afraid. Indeed, it would be a rather inefficient mechanism if we spent time first acknowledging our fear and then taking action, because what frightened us would have a much higher chance of negatively affecting us.
Emotions have a purpose, a function. They are there to be noticed, not by chance, but to show us a path, to alert us to something. Emotional intelligence goes hand in hand with cognitive intelligence, and skillfully managing our emotions makes us better relational beings, as well as more flexible and integrated individuals.
Let us ask ourselves: what is the purpose of fear? Or of anger, or sadness? If we can listen to and accept them, all these emotions serve very important functions and are messages worth exploring. Fear helps us plan, anticipate, and contain possible risks. Anger can help us understand when a situation or relationship is not right for us, while also giving us the strength and energy we need to react. Finally, verbalizing sadness, being able to communicate when we are sad, may allow us to receive warmth, affection, or even a hug from others.
And why is it necessary to take care of our emotions? If it is true, as we have said, that they respond to a purpose, then they generate behavior. When an emotion is not properly heard, understood, and processed, it can lead to dysfunctional behavior.
In complex systems such as workplaces, the ability to shift our perspective on interpersonal relationships toward greater personal flexibility and respect for the individuality of others can help create a healthy relational environment and pave the way for communication that is smoother and less clogged with preconceptions, judgments, and self-reference. It is therefore crucial to create training contexts in which we can practice, within the safe setting of the classroom, separating the experience that generates an emotional movement from the subsequent response or action each of us expresses.
I feel, therefore I am.
