In a world where we are told from almost the moment we can walk to be big girls and boys and stop crying when we fall, we learn to speak the language of emotional dishonesty to be accepted and belong. With chiding words and a lack of responsiveness from our caregivers, we learn to silence the sounds of our distress. And often without ever knowing it is happening, we internalize a script of success by shaming—complete with lines and blocking—that tells our bodies we have to shove all of our sadness, fear, and anger offstage if we’re going to be protagonists in this story at all.
