Finding Emo

Reclaiming the art of relating to darker emotions and shadow parts.

I had a hard time fitting in as a teenager.

Though I remember knowing myself well when I was in elementary school; I was the best illustrator in my class and I always had my nose stuck in a book. I spent time running around my suburban neighborhood playing kickball late into the night, swimming in neighbors’ pools, catching frogs in the creek, and making all sorts of crafts. I organized clubs and hosted karaoke parties in my basement. I was well-adjusted, had lots of friends, and knew where I belonged.

Then middle school hit. It was like a dark cloud had descended over my head and I entered a void where the pleasures and joys of early childhood vanished. The kids were mean and wore big puffy jackets with the names of their favorite sport teams. Girls drew their eyebrows on with black eyeliner and outlined their lips. Suddenly, everyone cared about things I didn’t care about, and for the first time, I found myself dreading school.

It wasn’t until my second year of high school that the clouds began to part. I started to find some outlets in art classes and writing for the school newspaper. Though the sun didn’t really come out again for me until I discovered emo music.

Suddenly, it all made sense to me, and it was as if I had found a key missing part to my identity. I remember the moment, sitting in the car on my way to class (probably listening to Dashboard Confessional) where I thought: “Oh… I am emo!”

Emo is a term for a musical movement characterized by emotional, often confessional lyrics, coming into popularity in the early to mid 90s. The music represented a subculture of young people who were trying to express themselves through music and fashion. But to me, it was so much more than that.

It was the first time I heard people so blatantly and unapologetically expressing their emotions, albeit through music. I grew up in a stoic Polish Catholic immigrant family, and there was zero emotional fluency or space to express emotions safely. Little did I know that I had been suppressing my emotions my entire life because of this, and it took a song by Elliot Smith for me to realize it.

I was an emotional, sensitive girl, and it took “emo” for me to discover that very core part of myself.

Through college and then living in New York City in my early twenties, my “emo-ness” transformed into hipsterdom.

Suddenly, life was more about having a cool job and cool friends, living in the coolest apartment in the coolest neighborhood, going to cool bars, and generally appearing hip. Though I may sound judgmental of this time in my life, I swear I am not. It was fun to feel cool.

Now, as a 41 year-old woman, I have been through many cycles and life phases, and have found so many ways to express my emotions. Being in the personal development world for so long, I have adopted a long list of strategies for emotional regulation: journaling, meditating, doing yoga, shaking, tapping, talking to a therapist, breathwork, sound baths, bodywork and so many more. In the healing community, we call expressing and integrating the more unpleasant sides of ourselves “shadow work.”

Somewhere on the path to becoming an adult, I lost my younger emo self, and began looking at my emotions as something to “heal”, to feel and release as quickly as possible, rather than to truly explore and dance with and allow them to inspire art in new and exciting ways.

Yet something about this last full moon has definitely got me back into those original feels and remembering 16 year-old emo Renee. I miss that girl who made mixtapes for friends, listened to Radiohead on vinyl, wrote poems on little pieces of paper and slipped them into friends’ lockers, wore wacky vintage t-shirts, and reveled in her beautiful sadness.

Rather than putting away my emotions neatly until I can get home and “properly” release them, I have been proudly putting them on display this week. I have been “outing my shadow.” The anger. The pettiness. The frustration. The sadness. And I don’t just let them be seen by friends and family. I’m letting anyone and everyone who crosses my pass see them.

“Honesty is a kind of freedom. We can’t love ourselves and conceal ourselves at the same time.” - Teal Swan, Shadows Before Dawn

I guess I’m advocating for people to let it all hang out a little more. Be real! The real ones will appreciate your realness.

Let people see you: the real you. Be witnessed in all that you are. If someone reacts negatively to you sharing or revealing a shadow, then that is simply more information about your dynamic or where that person is at.

This is not an excuse to be mean-spirited or take something out on others. I’m instead talking about taking full ownership of how you’re feeling, letting others know how you’re feeling, and allow the feeling to be there and know that it will eventually move through you.

It’s okay to be petty, or jealous, or angry, or frustrated, or sad. I’d much rather you admit to it than hide it. Vulnerability is disarming in that way. Sure, we know that these aren’t helpful states to be ruled by, but it also doesn’t help to pretend to be something that you’re not. I find that being honest facilitates more trust in relationships, even if what we’re sharing may not always be easy to express or hear.

So for the rest of the summer, I’ll be channeling 16 year-old emo Renee: collecting and listening to vinyl again and rollerblading to Neutral Milk Hotel. Consider this my shadow exaltation and celebration of my melancholy self, my beautiful sadness. I’m remembering to love this part of me too.