Emotions Matter: An Invitation to Feel

I recently read a beautiful novel by the Japanese author Mizuki Tsujimura called Lonely Castle in the Mirror. It follows Kokoro, a 13-year-old girl who, after being bullied, stops going to school. To cope with this overwhelming experience, she retreats into silence and isolates herself in her room. She can’t bring herself to speak even with her mother. Shame tells her, There’s something wrong with you. Guilt whispers, You’re not strong enough. And fear insists, It’s safer to stay hidden.

Each morning, Kokoro experiences stomach pain that prevents her from going to school—not a coincidence, but a message. Her body is saying what her lips cannot: I’m scared. I’m hurting. I’m angry. Her pain doesn’t just live in her memories—it lodges itself in her body. And with no one to help her make sense of her emotions, she begins to believe she must face them alone.

How many of us do the same?

We tuck away our sadness, our fear, our anger. We don’t want to be a burden. We worry that if we really show how we feel, we’ll be rejected, judged, or misunderstood. So, like Kokoro, we smile when we want to cry, say “I’m fine” when we’re unraveling inside, and wonder why we feel so alone.

What Our Bodies Remember

When emotions are pushed aside, they don't disappear. They find a way to speak. If not in words, then in tight chests, dry mouths, lumped throats, or aching stomachs. Right now, take a breath. Can you feel your body telling you something? 

These are the body’s quiet cries for attention. And if no one else hears them, perhaps we can learn to listen ourselves.

What Were You Taught About Emotions?

Many of my clients, when I ask about their emotional upbringing, tell me they were never taught how to name or navigate their feelings. Crying was seen as a weakness. Anger was punished. Fear was dismissed. And so they learned to suppress them. I believe that the root of psychological suffering often lies in unprocessed painful emotions. Many of us never had someone sit with us at our level and help us process our pain. Instead, when we felt sad, angry, or scared, we were often told to get over it, to be strong, to stop feeling our feelings.

And this isn’t about blaming our parents. Most of them were doing the best they could with what they had been taught. And it’s often a generational pattern. But it’s never too late to learn how to care for the parts of ourselves that still carry pain.

It’s never too late to unlearn emotional suppression and relearn emotional care.

A Prophetic Example of Emotional Presence

Our Prophet ﷺ gave us a timeless example. One day, while visiting the home of Abu Talha, he noticed his young son Abu Umayr looking unusually distressed. As busy as the Prophet ﷺ is, he didn't overlook it. Instead, he gently asked, 

يَا أَبَا عُمَيْرٍ مَا فَعَلَ النُّغَيْرُ

“O Abu Umayr, what did the nughayr do?” (nughayr meaning “little bird”). 

His pet bird had died. And the Prophet ﷺ consoled him. He didn’t dismiss the boy’s sadness nor belittle it. He validated his feelings without blame.

He met the child’s pain with presence. He showed us that emotions—even a child’s grief over a pet—are worthy of compassion and care.

Curiosity Over Judgment

What if we did the same for ourselves?

What if, instead of judging our emotions—I shouldn’t feel this way—we sat beside them like the Prophet ﷺ sat beside Abu Umayr? What if we offered our sadness, anger, or fear a place to rest? What if we asked, with tenderness: What brings you here? What do you need from me?

Emotions need to be seen, heard, and felt. Sometimes they feel like a strong wave—overwhelming and even frightening—but when we ride the wave instead of resisting it, the emotions become less intense. Over time, this practice builds confidence and strengthens our self-esteem. It leads to being comfortable in our own skin.

Welcoming Emotions Like Honoured Guests

Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, in his poem The Guest House, compares our emotional life to a home that hosts visitors: joy, sorrow, anger, grief. Some are welcome, others less so—but all are part of the human experience.

What if, instead of shutting the door when they knock or forcing them to leave early, we opened it? 

Welcome, sadness.
Come in, fear.
Take a seat, anger.

Just as we offer tea to a guest, we can offer our emotions attention, curiosity, and presence. 

This doesn't mean we wallow in every feeling—it means we witness them. We listen. And in that listening, we begin to heal. 

Why Naming and Validating Emotions Heals

Research shows that simply naming our emotions can reduce their intensity. Why? Because the ‘act of naming’ or ‘affect labeling’ activates the brain’s reasoning center and soothes the alarm bells of the nervous system.

Validation doesn’t mean agreement—it means acknowledgment. Saying I’m feeling overwhelmed right now creates space between you and the emotion. Suddenly, the emotion isn’t who you are; it’s something you’re experiencing.

Your Feelings Matter Because You Matter

Emotions are not obstacles to be overcome. They are signals to be understood. They are not enemies—they are messengers, guiding us toward what needs healing.

It takes courage to feel. To slow down, breathe, and be honest. And every time we sit with an emotion instead of fleeing it, we honour ourselves. That is, taking one step closer to emotional and spiritual wholeness.

Your feelings matter.
Your story matters.
You matter.

And remember: when you forget, as we all do, you can always begin again. Gently. Compassionately. Like a guest re-entering your home, welcomed with grace.

Tools for the Journey to Relearning Care

Healing begins with awareness. These prompts and resources are here to help you slow down, listen inward, and begin tending to your emotional world with compassion and intention.

📝 Journal Prompts

Take a few quiet moments. Breathe deeply. Choose 1–2 of these questions and let your heart respond:

1. “What emotion have I been avoiding lately? Why might that be?”
   
   
2. “When I was younger, how were emotions like sadness or anger treated in my home?”
   
   
3. “What would it look like to be more gentle with myself today?”
   
   
4. “What is one emotion I feel often but rarely speak about? What is it trying to tell me?”
   
   
5. “If I could sit with my sadness like a friend, what would I say to it?”
   
   
6. “What does emotional safety mean to me—and how can I create more of it in my life?”
   
   

You don’t need perfect answers. Let your pen flow without judgment. The goal is presence, not performance.

And if you need some more help, you’re always a welcomed guest at Ruh Care.