The Messy Side of Emotional Intelligence

There’s a lot that’s been written about emotional intelligence. It’s an important quality in effective leadership, for sure. After all, who wants to work for an erratic, emotional mess? At some point, you may have experienced this in a boss or colleague, or even in yourself, and the experience may have sent you running toward a new job or walking around the office on eggshells, fearful of another episode.

As a result, many of us in leadership roles have been exposed to various tools and models that promise greater composure and self regulation. As a leadership coach and facilitator, I often tout the importance of understanding our triggers, regulating our emotions, and recognizing the impact our emotional reactions can have on a team and its psychological safety.

And then there’s the messy reality of life.

When life knocks you off your game

Lately, I’ve been dealing with more than my fair share of health related issues. Nothing major on its own, but the combination has created a perfect storm that has knocked me off my game. It all came to a head the other day when, despite my best efforts, I found myself in an emotional soup.

Anger, frustration, resentment, sadness. All the usual suspects were there.

And then came the really nasty, horrible emotions that I never want to face or feel. The ones that make my skin crawl.

Confusion. Overwhelm. Shame. Embarrassment. Even jealousy.

It was just too much. Too much for my mind to make sense of, too much strain on my body, too much spinning in my head. It was awful.

I’ve often referred to this experience as the “emotional loop of doom.” I wrote about it years ago in my book Running on Empty, complete with helpful strategies to avoid falling into the soup in the first place.

But I realized something this week:

I’ve been afraid of the soup.

Normally, my strategy with emotional reactivity is to figure it out and understand it. I’m really good at that. I analyze what happened, look for the trigger, identify the pattern, find the insight.

But the storm was too strong this time.

So I tried something different.

I allowed it.

I said to myself, All of this can be here.

I kept repeating it, no matter how crazy it initially sounded.

All of this can be here.

And as I did, the tightness in my stomach started to lessen. The chatter in my head got quieter. I felt my body soften, and eventually my heart. A sense of deep presence and groundedness started to fill me, and my tiny boat eventually stopped rocking in the wind.

Compassion doesn’t have to be earned

I think one reason emotions can be so tricky for many of us isn't just the emotion itself, painful as it can be. It’s the story we tell ourselves about having it, and what we decide it means about who we are.

The English language doesn’t help us very much here:

I am jealous.

I am confused.

I am overwhelmed.

I am ashamed.

I am embarrassed.

Who wants to be all of those things?

A petty, insecure, incompetent person might be all of those things. Which I aim not to be. Which many of us probably aim not to be.

And so, when these very human emotions arise, we judge them:

That’s a horrible thought. I should be more generous.

I don’t understand why this is affecting me. This is no big deal.

I’ve done all this work on myself. Why am I back here again?

I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I figure this out?

I’m an expert on emotional intelligence and coaching. Why can’t I get this under control?

And in doing so, we layer judgment on top of the original emotion, which only makes the situation worse.

Then, just when we need it most, we close our hearts and cut off compassion for ourselves.

At least, that’s what I’ve realized I’ve been doing.

For me, compassion had become conditional on composure.

When I had an emotional moment, I needed to figure out what went wrong, understand why I reacted the way I did, identify the insight, make sense of everything, and then I could offer myself grace and forgiveness for having been less than perfectly regulated.

As a result, I’ve gotten incredibly good at analyzing myself. I can see patterns. I can find insights. I can make meaning out of almost anything.

And reflection can be incredibly helpful.

The problem was that compassion came after the reflection.

It had to be earned.

What I’m realizing now is that compassion can come before understanding.

Having jealous feelings doesn’t make me a jealous person.

Being confused and overwhelmed doesn’t make me incompetent.

Feeling shame and embarrassment doesn’t make me insecure.

And experiencing an emotional storm doesn't erase all the work I've done on myself.

These things make me human.

They are allowed because they are drops in the ocean of who I am, not the whole story.

And perhaps this is an important distinction when we talk about emotional intelligence. Emotional intelligence doesn't mean allowing our emotions to run roughshod over everyone around us. We are still responsible for our behavior, for repairing harm when we cause it, and for understanding the impact we have on other people. Self regulation matters.

Regulation is not rejection

But regulation and rejection are not the same thing.

Maybe emotional intelligence isn't about becoming so emotionally evolved that jealousy, shame, confusion, anger, embarrassment, or overwhelm stop showing up.

Maybe it's developing enough capacity to experience those emotions without immediately turning them into evidence against ourselves.

To notice: Jealousy is here.

Rather than: I am jealous.

Overwhelm is here.

Rather than: There is something wrong with me because I'm overwhelmed.

And perhaps, from that place, we actually become better at regulating ourselves, not because we've conquered the emotion, but because we're no longer fighting a war with ourselves at the same time we're trying to experience it.

The messy version of Shelley is finally allowed.

Not after she figures everything out.

Not after she finds the lesson.

Not after she calms down.

Right there, in the middle of the soup.

Because perhaps that's the version of me who needs compassion the most.

Coaching Questions for Thought

• What emotions are hardest for you to allow yourself to feel?

• When those emotions arise, what do you make them mean about who you are?

• Do you offer yourself compassion while you are struggling, or only after you have figured out what happened and regained your composure?

• Where might your desire to regulate your emotions actually become an attempt to reject or control them?

• What might change if, the next time a difficult emotion arises, you simply said to yourself, This can be here too?

Shelley Pernot is a life and leadership coach who is passionate about helping her clients heal burnout and lead from a place of purpose.  She is particularly adept at working with high performing women perfectionists at risk of burning out.  Feeling a little stretched? Take the 3-minute Burnout Risk Survey to see where you stand.  Reach out to me here for a free consultation to learn more about the coaching process and how it may benefit you!