The Unexpected Power of Sadness
I don’t like being sad. Who does? I especially do not like to be sad. If you’ve ever met me, you know that I’m a pretty upbeat & genuinely jovial person. I once played the ghost of Christmas present in a live Christmas carol production where I basically just played myself. I try to lift people's spirits when they are sad, catchphrases include - “Dry your eyes,” “Wipe those tears away”, and “I’m not gonna stop telling bad jokes until I see a smile.” In line with our culture, I’ve conditioned myself to hide tears, to retreat and cry in solitude. It's rare, almost unheard of, for someone to openly admit they're feeling sad in response to the casual 'How are you?' And when you do express sadness, people often rush to cheer you up, or they rush to get away as if you brought a skunk to the garden party & they want the unwanted guest to be quickly shown the door. The worst of us may even call you a “baby” painting sadness as a sign of immaturity, weakness, & a barrier to success. But recently I have been in touch with a deep sadness & have been forced to delve into those depths and have come to understand a bit of the hidden power of sadness.
The Bully & the Ally
In Dale Carnegie's "How to Win Friends and Influence People," he presents the concept of how anger can enable a shy person to express themselves. Carnegie discusses how strong emotions, like anger, can overcome a person's reservations and inhibitions. For a shy person, the intensity of anger can provide the impetus to speak up and assert themselves in ways they normally couldn't due to their shyness. This concept is grounded in the understanding that strong emotions can temporarily override our usual behavioral patterns. Sadness is a strong emotion too. Interestingly, anger is often the strong emotion of choice. If sadness shows up, anger steps in and takes over. Anger drives us to adopt an adversarial stance, leaving a trail of fractured relationships, wounded egos, and painful regrets. But, what if I slow down and allow sadness to have the floor and speak with its soft voice? What if I illuminate the true power of sadness? Turns out that sadness is this kind of underdog champion who takes me to a place that anger cannot: that place is called compassion.
The Hidden Value of Sadness
When I have the courage to dwell in my wounds, I find that my empathy is ignited, and I start to recognise the pain all around me, softening the edges and forging bridges of understanding where anger would build walls. For me, sadness comes on like a sneeze. It starts building up, I feel it coming on and sometimes I can hold it back but most of the time I feel that point of no return where it becomes clear that this is happening and all I can do is cover up and let it. How good do you feel after a sneeze? How good do you feel after a good cry?! Sadness triggers an internal clearing like a spiritual spring-cleaning. Tears become a potent solvent, breaking down the barriers that held back emotional progress. Sadness becomes this kind of emotional steroid, shoving me passionately in a direction I've previously only been able to edge towards calling on qualities of my higher self like authenticity, empathy, and acceptance.
The Unexpected Rebound
Therein lies a tantalizing paradox. Wrapping myself in sadness fuels a rebound effect. This emotional elasticity can catapult me towards an even greater joy. While in the cocoon of sadness, I find myself in an introspective sanctuary, a retreat into self-acceptance that fosters an understanding of connection with the feelings of others. As I continue to battle societal rigors and personal demons, perhaps I can cultivate my emotional landscape to reposition sadness as a trusted ally rather than a dreaded foe. In those moments of anguish, I’m choosing to dance with sadness rather than rage with anger. The power lies within my hands – and emanates from my heart.