There are three rules in dysfunctional family systems:
1. Don’t talk.
2. Don’t trust.
3. Don’t feel.

We learn at an early age not to talk about family problems. We keep them to ourselves either because we are embarrassed about what’s going on or because we’re convinced no one could possibly relate. So we stuff our family stuff.

We learn not to trust others. Children are, by nature, very trusting. Not trusting is a learned behavior. When children are unable to trust you can be sure it is because their trust has been violated by someone close to them.

When children find they can’t talk freely about what is going on in their life and when they are distrusting of those around them they tend to shut down emotionally. They “turn off” feelings like anger, fear, or sadness because they have nowhere to go with them anyway.

Adhering to these three rules as children makes sense. Kids somehow believe that by not talking, not trusting, and not feeling, their pain will be alleviated. But continuing to keep to these rules as adults can have serious consequences. Following these rules as grown-ups does not protect us from pain. It prevents us from wholeness.

The first step in successfully putting our past behind us is to break the rules.

We must talk about the things that caused and, more than likely, continue to cause so much pain. We must bring to the surface those things we didn’t or weren’t allowed to talk about. Our dark family secrets must be brought into the light if we are ever to strip them of their power. We can’t ignore them. We can’t go around them. We must talk through them.

The key to breaking the don’t talk rule is to first break the don’t trust rule. We must find safe people we can talk to. People who have our best interests in mind. People we can be comfortable confiding in. People who won’t judge us. People who accept us–even in our brokenness. As we seek to recover from a painful past we must assemble a support base of trust-worthy people and lean on them often. Yes, this involves risk. But it is a risk worth taking. Trust is the single most important element to a healthy relationship.  So find a counselor. Confide in a friend. Join a support group. Trust does not come easy. Truth is, trusting others with things we’ve kept secret our whole lives can be downright terrifying. But learning to trust is crucial to our emotional, spiritual, and relational well-being.

And, finally, we must learn how to feel. When we’ve found people we can trust, when we give ourselves permission to speak of things we may have never talked about before, we must then deal openly and honestly with any and all feelings that may pop to the surface. We must identify and process the feelings we have spent a lifetime trying to suppress. Author Gita Bellin writes, “The fastest way to freedom is to feel your feelings.” We must actually feel what we feel and feel those feelings all the way through before we can finally release them. That is the only way the pain of our past will no longer pervade our present.

Does the pain and trauma of a difficult childhood still hang like a dark cloud over your adult life? Maybe it’s time to break the rules.

Have you ever heard someone use a phrase that immediately made you think of a song? It happened to me the other day in church.

The pastor was reading from the book of Ecclesiastes. The instant he began with the words, for everything there is a season, I began singing along with the Byrds in my head:
    
To everything, turn, turn, turn.
There is a season, turn, turn, turn.
And a time to every purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die.
A time to plant, a time to reap.
A time to kill, a time to heal.
A time to laugh, a time to weep.

Apparently the original lyrics were not written by Pete Seeger, but Solomon. And wise, old Solomon shares in Ecclesiastes 3 that there are not just times for everything, there are seasons. That suggests that whether we plant or reap or laugh or weep, it is not just for a brief moment of time, but for a season. When it comes to weeping in particular, that is important for us to remember.

Even in the Christian culture, there is a lot of misunderstanding about grieving. Perhaps one of the more common misconceptions--and one that causes undue and untold pressure on those who experience loss--is that we are to grieve for as little time as possible, then move on with our lives. Solomon debunks that bunk. He reminds us that grieving is a season of life.

In our part of the world the year is divided up into four seasons, each lasting three months. But in Solomon's neck of the woods, there were two seasons--summer and winter. So when Solomon writes about a season to weep, it was with the understanding that grief can be a very long process; it can and should take a significant amount of time.

A second misunderstanding about grief has to do with the very definition of the word. Grief is not merely "intense, mental anguish." It is the "expression of intense, mental anguish." That is an important distinction because if we are not expressing our anguish we are not grieving. For us to truly grieve, those intense and, I must add, very normal feelings need to come out.

So what do we need to do when faced with the heartache of loss in our lives? I offer two suggestions.

First, remember that grieving is a season. When we put time limits on when we should be done with grieving and  "return to normal" we are short-circuiting the process.  The truth of the matter is we will never return to "normal." Nor should we. We have lost something that was profoundly meaningful to us.

A woman once shared with me how she was crying one morning, grieving the loss of her mother, when the phone rang. The person calling could tell by her voice that something was wrong and asked her what was going on. In a moment of vulnerability, she shared that she was just missing her mom. Her "friend" responded, "Come on. That happened two weeks ago!"

Whether is was two weeks, two months, or two years, such statements are not only minimizing, they are hurtful. They are also the reason why many people grieve alone. We must grant grief the time it needs.

A second and crucial step in the grieving process is to find a safe place where you can express what you honestly feel. And be warned: gut-wrenchingly honest grief may include weeping, wailing, questioning, and cussing. If someone truly wants to be of help, they will allow us to let our anguish out no matter what form it takes.

Anger is a more common part of the grieving process than most good Christians would ever admit. It, too, must be expressed if it is a part of our anguish. It is not only okay, it is normal to hate cancer, to be furious over suicide, even to be ticked off at God for allowing death to happen.

Name your feeling. Own it. Express it. We cannot work through our feelings if deny their existence.   

We must remember that unexpressed anguish doesn't simply dissipate over time. It will come out one way or another. It may take the form of resentment or depression or isolation or cynicism. But it will come out. It is important that it come out in healthy ways that honor God. We must seek friends or a good counselor who will help us to feel what we really feel, without judgement.

Expressing intense, mental anguish is not a bad thing. In fact, it is the key to our healing. We grieve deeply when we love deeply. We become stronger through seasons of weeping when we recognize that A., they are seasons and B., they require weeping.

Every family has rules. Many family rules are spoken, some of them often. Look both ways before crossing the street. Come when you're called. Don't talk back. Tell the truth. Be in by ten. 


Some family rules are unspoken, yet just as clear. Don't bother your father when he's watching sports. Kids who get Cs and Ds in school are losers. You must go to church every Sunday. Don't think outside the box. Hang around with people who look, act, and dress like you. 


In family systems infiltrated with serious dysfunction--divorce, alcoholism, abuse, depression, workaholism--children often strictly adhere to three unspoken family rules: 

1.  don’t talk
2. don’t trust
3. don’t feel
   

Children from troubled homes learn at an early age not to talk about family problems. We keep them to ourselves either because we are embarrassed about what’s going on or because we’re convinced no one could possibly relate. So we stuff our family stuff.

We learn not to trust others. Children are, by nature, very trusting. Not trusting is a learned behavior. When children are unable to trust it is most often the result of their trust having been violated by the people closest to them.

When children find they can’t talk freely about what is going on in their life and when they are distrusting of those around them, they tend to shut down emotionally. They “turn off” feelings like anger, fear, frustration, loneliness, or sadness because they have nowhere to go with them anyway.

As children, following these three rules makes sense. Kids somehow believe that by not talking, not trusting, and not feeling their suffering will be lessened. But continuing to adhere to these rules as adults can have serious consequences. The rules that help us as children harm us as adults. The same rules that protected us from hardship as children prevent us from wholeness as adults

The first step in overcoming a painful childhood is to break the rules.

We must talk about the things that caused and, more than likely, continue to cause so much pain. We must bring to the surface those things we didn’t or weren’t allowed to talk about. Our dark family secrets must be brought into the light if they are ever to be stripped of their power. We can’t ignore them. We can’t pretend they aren't there. We must talk through them.

The key to breaking the “don’t talk” rule is to first break the “don’t trust” rule. We must find safe people we can talk to. People who have our best interests in mind. People we can be comfortable confiding in. People we can trust. 


As we seek to recover from a painful past we must assemble a support base of trust-worthy people and lean on them often. Yes, this involves risk. Yes, risking is scary. But trust is the single most important element to a healthy relationship so it is well worth the risk. Find a counselor. Talk to a pastor. Confide in a close friend. Learning to trust is not easy. Know that going in. But it’s crucial to our recovery.

And, finally, we must learn how to feel. When we’ve found people we can trust, when we’ve discovered that we can talk about things we may have never talked about before, we must begin to deal with any feelings that may pop to the surface. We must process those feelings we have spent a lifetime trying to suppress. We must feel our feelings and feel them all the way through if we are ever to be done with them. That is the only way the pain of our past will no longer pervade our present.

Does your painful childhood still hang like a dark cloud over your adult life? Life-giving freedom comes from breaking the rules.

There are three rules in dysfunctional family systems:

1. Don’t talk.
2. Don’t trust.
3. Don’t feel.

We learn at an early age not to talk about family problems. We keep them to ourselves either because we are embarrassed about what’s going on or because we’re convinced no one could possibly relate. So we stuff our family stuff.

We learn not to trust others. Children are, by nature, very trusting. Not trusting is a learned behavior. When children are unable to trust you can be sure it is because their trust has been violated by someone close to them.

When children find they can’t talk freely about what is going on in their life, and when they are distrusting of those around them, they tend to shut down emotionally. They “turn off” feelings like anger, fear, or sadness because they have nowhere to go with them anyway.

Following these three rules as children makes sense. Kids somehow believe that by not talking, not trusting, and not feeling their suffering will be lessened. But continuing to keep to these rules as adults can have serious consequences. Adhering to these rules as grownups does not protect us from hardship. It prevents us from wholeness.

The first step successfully putting our past behind us is to break the rules.

We must talk about the things that caused and, more than likely, continue to cause so much pain. We must bring to the surface those things we didn’t or weren’t allowed to talk about. Our dark family secrets must be brought into the light if we are ever to strip them of their power. We can’t ignore them. We can’t go around them. We must talk through them.

The key to breaking the “don’t talk” rule is to first break the “don’t trust” rule. We must find safe people we can talk to. People who have our best interests in mind. People we can be comfortable confiding in. People who won't judge us. People we can trust. As we seek to recover from a painful past we must assemble a support base of trust-worthy people and lean on them often. Yes, this involves risk. But it is a risk worth taking. Trust is the single most important element to a healthy relationship.  So find a counselor. Talk to a pastor. Confide in a friend. Trust does not come easy. It can be downright terrifying. Know that going in. But learning to trust is crucial to our recovery.

And, finally, we must learn how to feel. When we’ve found people we can trust, when we’ve discovered that we can talk about things we may have never talked about before, we must begin to deal with any and all feelings that may pop to the surface. We must identify and process the feelings we have spent a lifetime trying to suppress. We must actually feel what we feel and feel the feelings all the way through before we can finally be done with them. That is the only way the pain of our past will no longer pervade our present.

Does the pain and trauma of a difficult childhood still hang like a dark cloud over your adult life? Maybe it’s time to break the rules.

Of all the emotions God has given humankind, the most difficult feeling for most of us to express is anger. Why is that? Why is it so toilsome to be honest about feeling a God-given emotion?

For starters, some of us question whether anger is truly "of God." Some of us have been taught by our parents, and/or the church, that expressing anger is not just wrong, it is downright sinful.

For the record, the Bible never declares that it is a sin to be angry. Ephesians 4:26, an often misinterpreted text, says, "In your anger do not sin" (NIV, emphasis mine). In other words, it's okay to be angry. It's not okay to kick the dog.

Yet, many folks--even those of us who, as a rule, have no problem expressing how we feel--keep a tight lid on our anger. No matter how intense the rage that may be burning in our gut, we swallow hard,  plaster on our fake smiles, and pretend that it is well with our soul. If anyone asks, "How are you?", we lie and say, "I'm fine." Just so we're clear, it's the lying part that's the sin.

Years ago, as a part of my training for addictions counseling, I facilitated a women's support group. I learned a lot from those ladies, not the least of which was what that word "fine" really meant. To them it was an acronym. The "I" stood for insecure, the "N" was neurotic, the "E" meant emotional. To keep my website's G-rating I can't tell you what the "F" stood for.

Whenever one of those ladies would hear someone say "I'm fine," they would smile and think to themselves, I'll be you are!

Learning how to express our anger in non-threatening, God-honoring ways, is crucial to our emotional and spiritual health. But even more, when we allow ourselves to feel what we feel, no matter how scary and uncomfortable it is, we will find that even our spiritual well-being will be enhanced. 

God desires honesty. He wants us to be truthful with what's going on inside us. He cannot heal what we will not acknowledge. 

For us to express our emotions--even negative feelings like anger--is not only healthy, it's Christ-like. In the words of pastor and author Peter Scazzaro, “To minimize or deny what we feel is a distortion of what it means to be image bearers of our personal God.  To the degree that we are unable to express our emotions, we remain impaired in our ability to love God, others, and ourselves well.”

Let go of your anger. It might be the most loving thing you could do--for yourself, for others, and for God.

(photo by Zachary Lubarski)