Hey Friends,

Pour a glass of whatever you like to drink before you read this — this is a “we survived ourselves” kind of letter.

Drama, drama, drama. I never understood the meaning of emotional regulation until I stopped performing like I was auditioning for a reality show called Keeping Up with My Triggers. I genuinely thought everything was a fight. Every comment was an attack. Every disagreement meant I wasn’t being heard. So naturally… I responded like a WWE finalist. If it was in my hand, it could be thrown. Dishes? Absolutely. Remote control? Why not. Let’s be honest — I wasn’t throwing shade; I was throwing appliances.

Anxiety and drama were my breakfast of champions. That’s what I saw growing up. Somebody felt disrespected? It wasn’t just words — it was hair pulling, slapping, kicking. Daytime brawls like we were filming an episode of Jerry Springer Show but without commercial breaks.

Somewhere in the middle of one of those chaos Olympics, scratched face and missing edges, I remember thinking, “I am tired.” Tired of matching energy with energy. Tired of looking like I fought a raccoon. I knew I needed a different way to express myself. I had range — but instead of using it wisely, I went from physically fighting to crying at everything. It was like my emotions said, “Oh, we’re not punching anymore? Fine. We’re flooding.”

Holding in frustration turned me into an emotional volcano. And the question became: how do you regulate something that feels bigger than you?

Here’s the ironic part. I would watch other people lose their minds in public and feel secondhand embarrassment. The loud arguing in the grocery store. The dramatic exits. The finger pointing. I’d think, “Whew. Couldn’t be me.” Whole time… it absolutely had been me. It’s easier to judge someone else’s dirty laundry than to wash your own glass house. That’s the oxymoron of growth — we cringe at what we haven’t healed in ourselves.

Over time, between holding my breath from one argument to the next, I realized something humbling: I was adding extra spice to situations in my head. Not paprika. Cayenne. Ghost pepper. I wasn’t just reacting — I was narrating, producing, and directing the drama.

And sociology actually backs this up. A few things I’ve learned:

And let’s talk Bible for a second because this one had to sit me down:

“A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” — Proverbs 15:1

I used to be the harsh word. Now I’m practicing the gentle answer — not because I’m weak, but because I’m tired of being emotionally exhausted.

I’ve learned that emotional regulation isn’t about suppressing feelings. It’s about responding instead of reacting. It’s about not letting your inner “f around and find out” mentality run the board meeting.

And listen — we’ve all seen someone spiraling in public and whispered, “Oh no, baby…” only to later realize we’ve done the same thing in different shoes. Growth is realizing you were the plot twist.

So here’s to getting our attitudes under control — not in a corny self-help way, but in a “we’re too grown to be fighting like we’re on the playground” way. Here’s to not throwing dishes. Or at least buying plastic ones while we’re healing.

I’m not perfect. I still feel the volcano rumble sometimes. But now I breathe. I pause. I ask myself, “Is this a real fire, or am I lighting matches?”

Progress.

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” — James 1:19

P.S. Note to self…Hear the whole story before you react. Half the time we’re arguing with a version of events that isn’t even accurate. Gather the facts. Then respond. It saves friendships — and saves embarrassment on your part.

From Your Friend, Its Me Lorie