Why We Don’t Feel — and How That’s Been Hurting Us All Along

Hey family,

I’m back in Florida after a long, soul-stirring week on the road visiting a few kava bars and meeting some of you beautiful people in person. There’s just something about this community — the calm, the stories, the late-night talks over shells — that makes you realize how many of us are quietly carrying the same kind of weight.

And that’s what’s been sitting on my heart today.
Not the usual busy thoughts about production runs or new batches…
but that quiet ache so many of us have — the one that comes from never being fully seen emotionally when we were growing up.

You know what I mean.

Many of us were raised by parents who, bless their hearts, did the best they could — but they were emotionally unavailable. They provided food, shelter, clothes, even advice — but not presence. Not that deep kind of listening that tells a child, you’re safe here.

So early on, many of us learned how to shut parts of ourselves down.

When we cried, we were told to toughen up.
When we spoke up, we were told to quiet down.
When we needed comfort, we were told we were being “too sensitive.”

And somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we got very good at telling ourselves we were fine.

We learned how to perform — at work, in relationships, in public — while privately feeling disconnected or numb.

That’s often how suppressed emotions show up. They don’t disappear — they stay unexpressed. And over time, many people notice that this inner tension can feel connected to things like restlessness, tight shoulders, difficulty unwinding at night, or that sense of always being “on.”

They can show up in patterns, too —
in how we chase people who can’t meet us emotionally,
in how we over-give just to feel needed,
or in how silence feels uncomfortable unless there’s some kind of distraction.

This is where calm environments and intentional pauses matter so much.

For many people, spaces centered around slowing down — whether that’s a quiet evening ritual, time spent in reflective settings, or moments of intentional self-care — create an opportunity to finally pause. And in that pause, emotions that have been waiting often rise to the surface.

That’s why some of us feel unexpectedly emotional during moments of stillness. It’s not necessarily sadness — it’s often simply the experience of noticing what’s been there all along.

These moments aren’t about escape.
They’re about creating space.

Space to soften.
Space to breathe.
Space to listen to what our emotions have been quietly asking for years.

And here’s the beautiful part — once you begin paying attention to your emotions, they don’t have to control you. You become more aware. More grounded. More intentional. You start choosing calm over chaos, connection over performance.

So maybe tonight, before your next quiet moment, just pause.

Ask yourself:
What emotion have I been setting aside lately?
What truth have I been too busy or too cautious to feel?

Because healing doesn’t always look like doing more.
Sometimes it looks like sitting quietly, letting yourself be present, and allowing whatever comes — tears, laughter, or simple calm — to pass through without judgment.

That’s often where meaningful change begins.

Alright family — that’s all I’ve got for you tonight.
Take care of your nervous system.
Be gentle with the younger parts of you that are still learning it’s safe to feel.
And remember — feeling isn’t weakness. It’s a return.

— From Ina’s Hands, with love

This reflection is shared for educational and personal insight only. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, or cure any medical or mental health condition. Individual experiences may vary.