There are moments when we carry so much inside… and yet, when we try to speak, nothing comes out. It’s that nudo en la garganta feeling, that heaviness in our chests, the distance between the thought “I want to share” and the words, “I don’t know what to say.”
We weren’t taught to understand or name what we felt. Instead, we heard phrases like “no exageres,” “los hombres no lloran,” or “tienes que ser fuerte.” Looking back, I think our parents or grandparents meant these words as protection. Maybe they feared that showing emotion would make us too vulnerable, or maybe our feelings reflected emotions they themselves didn’t know how to face.
During this Hispanic Heritage Month, we’re especially reminded of them—our parents, our grandparents—who carried the weight of migration, survival, and sacrifice. Many of them had to leave behind their countries, their families, their language, and sometimes even their own emotions, just to move forward. Hiding feelings was often a way to keep going, to stay strong in a world that didn’t always welcome them.
And for that, we honor them. 💙 Their silence was also a form of love, a way of saying: “I don’t want the world to hurt you the way I’ve seen it do.”
But now, here we are, navigating our 20’s and 30’s, asking ourselves: ¿Y ahora qué? What do I even do with anger, or fear, or sadness?
Those words, meant to protect us, ended up silencing us in real ways. More and more, I see how common it is to feel like we can’t explain ourselves. Sometimes silence feels like our safest friend. In silence, we only hear our own reality, our own thoughts, our own voice. That can feel safer than being confronted with someone else’s perspective, especially if that perspective carries judgment or rejection. Silence becomes a cushion against the collision of realities.
But staying silent also keeps us from engaging with reality. And here’s the thing: even though we may think being strong means staying quiet, most of the time, it actually takes more strength to engage with our emotions and with others.
None of us were born knowing how to do this. It is a learned process—and many of us were actually taught not to do this. So even beginning with step one, naming our emotions, is already a win. We’re learning as we go. And the more we connect with others, the more we improve our relationships. That’s what life is about: connection—to ourselves, and to others.
So, where can we start?
- Name the emotion. Like turning on a light in a dark room, suddenly you see what’s there. Even saying it out loud, “I feel disappointed,” helps. Psychology shows this shifts brain activity from the amygdala (fear center) to the frontal lobe (our brain’s “CEO”).
- Get curious. Emotions are data. Something in your environment triggered a response. What was it? What matters to you?
- Regulate before reacting. Cool your head so you can respond productively. Go for a walk, take a shower, write, run, or hold an ice cube and breathe. Then come back to curiosity.
- Communicate with facts. Use: “When this happened, I felt…” Avoid: “You made me feel…”
- Take your time. This is a skill you’re learning. It’s okay to pause: “I need a second to calm down before we continue.”
So yes, talking about feelings can feel hard. But hard doesn’t mean impossible. Each word we find, cada momento en el que nos escuchamos o alguien nos escucha, nos acerca a la sanación.
This Hispanic Heritage Month, as we celebrate the courage of those who came before us, we also honor them by doing the inner work they couldn’t always do, learning to give our emotions a voice because healing ourselves is also a way of honoring their struggle and continuing their legacy.
✨ And maybe that’s the real heritage: to carry their strength, and add to it our own healing.