The Worst dinner Party

One of the hardest tenants of nervous system regulation is the process of allowing one's emotions to be. Within minutes of nose breathing, tapping one's eyebrows or contemplating the void, I am told to notice any emotions that may be present and welcome them. 

It’s a little like turning on the lights at 1am and finding three cockroaches and a giggling man in my kitchen. 

“This all seems fine.” I gesture at the fridge and go back to bed.

Emotional acceptance is the dinner party from hell. It’s a guest list no one approved for an unspecified number of people, many of whom have zero manners or sense of occasion.

Frustration and Desire arrive early and make a beeline for the drinks cupboard. They’ve come from somewhere else, smelling of sweat, vodka and (for some reason) gasoline. Their voices are loud, gestures wild. Any sane host would call a taxi now to evacuate these people from the house. Whatever plans I might have for the evening will be torn apart like a paper hat if I welcome these emotions. This is the kind of evening where Optimism leaves, Joy ends up crying, and Desire falls asleep in the bath, in a nest of cigarette butts and crisps.

Worse will be their impact on me. Frustration, with a few in him, likes to indulge in revolutionary speeches while standing on the dining room table. He has a terrible influence on me, and we’re likely to abandon the party to find a traffic cone to “liberate.”

I can’t let them wander my home without upsetting all the other emotions and causing me to act like a lunatic. They have no interest in simply “being” at a party.

Why, knowing all of this would I allow them to stay? 

Horrifyingly, there is no real “away” to send negative emotions to. Once they leave, the diversion to “find a better party,” throwing up on someone’s bins, trying to fight said bins, the argument with a police officer, jail, the whole mess happens out of sight, out of mind, but not out of body. Frustration and Desire stole my credit card. They listed me as next of kin, as their one phone call from the station. Everywhere they go, it’s me. Our emotions do a lot more damage when we exile them, and like a 3am altercation in the suburbs, it’s harder to track down.

Allowing my emotions to stay in sight keeps them off the streets and robs them of the righteous indignation that fuels their bender. If that sounds like a hostage situation, it is. We are stuck with ourselves.

The thing is, all of our emotions serve a purpose. 

Anger, Frustration and Envy are activating emotions. They give us adrenaline shots and act as wingmen. Desire makes us work for what we want. Sadness helps us to process the negative things that happen in our lives, which otherwise get stuck in us like moving boxes filling up the house. Anxiety keeps us safe from danger. Granted, their obsession with checking under the sofa cushions before they sit down is weird, but they will spot that your water filter is green, or the dodgy hissing sound coming out of the gas stove before anyone else, except maybe Paranoia. Fear is anxiety’s big brother. They egg on all the other emotions and convince us that everything is overwhelming and dangerous. But they also get us to work harder and protect ourselves. 

But this is not to say that our less welcome emotions are misunderstood treasures. These are not deep, wise characters with a rough exterior, here to teach us a lesson. When Envy spends the whole evening spitting shards of pasta in Hope’s face while goading her about our career prospects until Hope is replying in monosyllables, tears leaking into her puttanesca, Envy is not playing a complex game. The conversation does not reveal a truth that makes us gape in astonishment.

“Envy, you…were simply trying to show me what I really want from life. Thank you.” 

No, Envy was being a dick. A penne spitting, spiteful little prick, locating the weakest person in the room to shit on. The fact that I then go out and work my ass off to train for a promotion may be entirely prompted by Envy’s bad behaviour, but rewarding it seems deeply unfair on Hope, who is now living on my sofa, watching repeats of Friends and crying.

When Anger punches a hole in the wall, it would be great to say that this highly inappropriate behaviour causes me to find a stolen fortune sealed into the wall in banded stacks of 50s and 100s. Instead, Anger’s antics cause me to fix up part of my home (life) that has needed a refresh for a while, and as a result ends up a nicer, more functional wall. Anger doesn’t chip in to cover this. So it improved things by making everything worse and then watching me pay for it. I am supposed to be grateful for this. Anger, on its next visit, lingers by the wall for an awkwardly long time, waiting for me to say thank you.

Is it possible to perform well while ignoring our negative emotions? Sadly no. All of our emotions play a part in bringing out the best in us. 

We cannot go after the things we want without being scared of their absence. 

We will not correctly place unhappy events in our bodies and minds without feeling sad about them. Unnervingly, I will not strive as hard at being a “good” person without the fear of the consequences of being a “bad” one. My anger at a behaviour, outcome or headline gives me the fire to change something, usually starting with myself.

It’s a guilty secret that we have to get a little bit angry, frightened and disgusted to perform well as a human. Accepting this fact is a part of coming to terms with ourselves.

Our emotions can cause us to behave like lunatics but they also balance each other out. This internal party of emotions throwing dinner rolls at one another, while tiring and grotesque on the inside, is the reason why we don’t end up going off the deep end. Without internal fear, shame and paranoia, none of us would control our impulses and all our interactions would degrade into battlefields. Is it only fear and shame that prevent society from falling into anarchy? They’re in the mix. Maybe not the pasta in a puttanesca, but certainly the olives.

So we have to accept our emotions to maintain some kind of internal equilibrium. We are supposed to invite them in, allow them a seat at the table. How do we do this and live a peaceful life?

The answer to managing this internal host of emotions is surprisingly similar to the rules required to survive a dinner party where the guests range from obnoxious to insane.

1. Introduce each emotion to an equal and balanced opposite. Yes, Frustration is going to give Gratitude a challenging evening, but better them than you. The pair will become embroiled in a debate that will take them right through to the cheese course. There’s nothing like the beige “healing crystal” energy of Gratitude to take the steam out of Frustrations ranting, and neither will be willing to back down. Occasionally give Gratitude an encouraging smile. As long as they’re reasonably well balanced, they’re not your problem anymore.
2. Calming healing mantra playlist. Under the soporific powers of “Cosmic Drift,” even the most histrionic emotions are rendered tame. Impending Sense of Doom ends up sulking in the rocking chair.
3. Mindfulness is your best weapon. Bring the (internal) conversation abruptly back to the present. While Paranoia reads a room about as well as they read Latin, if you develop a sudden, loud fascination with the food, the decor or in a pinch the weather, you derail the conspiracy rant. You have to make room for negativity at the table, no one said you had to let them hold court over the starter.
4. Despair wants to glare at you through a shadowy cloud of cigar smoke while whispering dark truths into their whiskey, lone candle flickering. Turn up the lights, hide the booze and drown them in shepherds pie, chintz and Disney tunes. Never let your emotions dictate the flavour of the occasion. It’s your home.
5. Always have ice cream in reserve. When all else fails and Sadness is doing Nine Inch Nails karaoke in the living room, a well timed round of chunky monkey and settling down in front of the comedy channel will insert a wedge. 

As anyone who’s ever had to host a four course dinner for a room full of assholes will tell you, there are no tricks too low.