We are, as we all well know, products of our upbringing, both a reflection of the time in which we were born and the family that we were born into.

In my family, there were clear expectations about how to behave and how to express feelings. While I confess that I was very skilled at throwing tantrums, which I remember to this day, I also learned quickly that there were things that were not said. My father was volatile and highly emotional and the wrong words could result in words first, then days of the silent treatment.

I don’t remember him ever being silent with me but he could do that for days and days with Mom. He would not even come into the same room with her and I can see him now, stretched out on the living sofa, head on the arm, reading his paper or a book and radiating a tension that was palpable.

When I was a kid, I didn’t think much about this dynamic. This was what it was. But, as an adult, I have begun to understand it. Mom, the gentlest and calmest of souls, would never have created a circumstance that provoked Dad’s anger. He would have been angry, at himself, some event or life in general, and would have blown up at her for something. It was likely insignificant or, and I know this one well, for giving him an answer to a question he didn’t like. Truth is, he was the volcano, always steaming below the surface and erupting to cover the landscape (especially her) with smoke and ash and lava.

While I don’t recall it being expressly said to me, I learned early on to avoid confrontation, to, “not say anything” if I couldn’t say something “nice.” When my mother died, there was a drawer full of notes and cards from me in her dresser. Many of the notes were “I’m sorry” for any number of transgressions. Words were much safer on paper than in spoken form.

Even today, difficult words and less-than-pleasant emotions are hard for me to communicate. I hesitate, I contemplate, I over-think and I avoid. Frequently I put the words in writing, rather than saying them and may share them or may not. More often than not, I keep those words and feelings locked inside, where they visit my thoughts, in endless loops, in the middle of the night.

I admire those who are fearless and direct. I am certainly better able to do that in my professional life, even though it is difficult for me. I recognize that being a “pleaser” and/or trying to “keep the peace” takes its toll on me and conflicts with my desire to live in a place of truth. Pushing past the socialization, the patterns of behavior, the fear—all necessary to help me continue to fill my full heart.