I didn’t tell her, “Happy birthday.”
Not when we woke up, nor when we made breakfast for our girls before taking them to school.
Not when we worked out at the gym, earphones firmly implanted, passing each other like ships in a fog.
Not when she headed to her office for the day, nor when she returned home.
Not when I lay on the couch, mindlessly scrolling my phone, while the evening pressed on, and everyone’s stomach remained empty.
Not when I eventually got up, walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and scanned its contents for something to eat.
Not even when I heard sniffling behind me.
Instead, I stood, turned, and feigned naiveté. “What’s wrong?” I asked, surprised at the sound of surprise in my voice.
She gestured that we should talk in our bedroom, so the girls wouldn’t overhear us in theirs.
By the time I closed the door behind me, she was sitting on the edge of our neatly made bed, hugging a throw pillow against her abdomen, perhaps seeking protection from the psychological gut punches my silence delivered throughout the day. Her face was flushed, and her shoulders heaved. Tears cascaded down her crimson cheeks.
Catching her breath between sobs, she said, “Everyone deserves to be at least acknowledged on their birthday. Maybe a card. A piece of cake. And a little bite to eat.”
The way she brought her hand to her mouth during that last statement—the space between her thumb and forefinger was so small—shattered whatever spell I was under.
I asked myself, “Why didn’t I do the bare minimum and open up that same tiny amount of emotional space on her special day?”
I apologized profusely and hugged her tightly; I had nothing else to offer. Certainly not a gift, but not even a single insight into the rationale behind my behavior.
We talked for a while longer, and once the tension—and grief—had settled a bit, I gathered my girls, who were still quite young, and told them we were heading to Whole Foods.
The memory of that car ride will be forever etched into my brain. On the way, I had to explain to them how I’d failed their mother by not acknowledging her birthday, the deep hurt it had caused, and how I’d also failed them by not at least providing a reminder to acknowledge her, too.
And perhaps the most difficult part was explaining how driving to get her a small, pre-made cake and a generic card at 8 pm was a necessary, but ultimately hollow, gesture.
The damage had been done, and things would never be the same again.
In a podcast I regularly enjoy, at the end of a recent episode, the host asked his guest: “If there was one moment in the last 10 years that you could change, what would it be?” And the first thing that popped into my mind was this unforgivable behavior on my ex-wife’s 44th birthday.
Granted, I have no way of knowing whether acting compassionately could have saved our relationship. However, I do know that this event remains the biggest single mistake—among many—that I made during my 22 years as a husband, and it marked a significant shifting point in our nearly 30-year relationship.
In fact, it wasn’t until after we’d divorced that I even recognized why I acted in such a repulsive manner.
With the bright, unflinching clarity provided by mindful sobriety, I saw how I’d run from my emotions for decades by abusing marijuana and other intoxicants, made it her responsibility to help me feel something—anything—again, and ultimately saddled her with blame when she obviously couldn’t deliver. Therefore, I unconsciously retaliated in one of the most hurtful way possible.
You don’t have to make the same mistakes I did and cause irreparable damage to your most cherished relationships.
Instead of avoiding your discomfort and living in a constant state of gray numbness, you can pause, breathe, and sit with your emotions. It doesn’t have to be lengthy; start with just a few seconds if that’s all you can handle.
Then, the braver you become and the more you face them, ask what they can teach you, and then release your clinging to them, you’ll find that they hold so much foundational wisdom. About how to view yourself, how to interact with the world you inhabit, how to show up authentically for your loved ones, and how to hold space for them when they need you most.
3 Steps You Can Take Today to Start Learning from Your Emotions
Research shows that because we often override, suppress, or ignore our feelings, we create a habit of viewing our emotions as distractions rather than valuable data. However, instead of obstacles to overcome, emotions are a sophisticated guidance system that tells us what’s important.
In other words, your emotions hold a great deal of wisdom that can shape your life in so many healthy ways. And the solution to learning from them is to get better at feeling.
Here are three ways you can start today:
Name three emotions as they arise – Set a timer on your phone for three points during the day: midmorning, afternoon, and evening. When it goes off, pause and ask: “What am I feeling right now?” Don’t analyze or justify. Just name, such as “anxious,” “irritated,” “tender,” “numb.” Instead of suppressing feelings, you’re befriending them. And once befriended, they begin to share their wisdom.
Ask one emotion what it needs – After you’re ready for bed, identify the strongest emotion you felt during the day. Pause, take three deep breaths, and sit with it for two minutes. Ask it: “What are you trying to tell me?” “What do you need?” “What matters to you?” As it manifests, don’t try to fix it or make it go away. Just listen.
Track one physical signal – Emotions appear in the body before they reach your conscious awareness. Tomorrow, notice where you feel emotional shifts. Tightness in your chest? A sinking in your stomach? Tension in your jaw? Your body knows what matters, often before your mind catches up.
Here’s a downloadable worksheet that contains each of these prompts. Print and fill out at your convenience:
The Practice of Feeling
While mindfulness is about being present with your breath, it’s also about being present—and reconnecting—with your humanity. And your emotions are the voice of your humanity, constantly trying to guide you home.
Today, don’t override what you feel.
Instead, pause, breathe, and listen.
Give it to me straight: What’s the ONE thing from today’s newsletter you’ll actually try? Hit reply and let me know. I read every response—no judgment, only witnesses.