Listen Linda

Acting out stems from emotions that are too intense or unfamiliar to process in the moment. For those of us in recovery, it should resonate. In active addiction or alcoholism, these substances often numbed emotional awareness. A false sense of security against pain, joy, or anything else in between. This numbing effect can leave us emotionally stunted, and once that shield is removed, raw feelings often flood in like a tidal wave. These emotions, grief, guilt, anger, even joy—are powerful and overwhelming, and most often trigger impulsive reactions and behaviors.

A lot of times, acting out can feel disastrous, yet it is also a reflection of growth. The sudden, impulsive responses are reminders that we are alive. They show just beneath the surface how we are beginning to reconnect with ourselves. However, the challenges lie in understanding what is behind the actions. Are they driven by a coping mechanism like anger? Or are they an attempt to explore a new emotional language we’ve yet to master? Distinction is key in choosing if the actions serve or harm us.

I can’t forget that recovery demands something extraordinary learning how to sit with feelings instead of running from them. Our feelings aren’t inherently dangerous. It’s defiantly our actions that will determine the outcome. For someone who is on this journey myself, letting these emotions rise without suppressing them can be excruciating. Crying or feeling overwhelmed does not signify weakness but signifies healing. IT’s cleansing out emotional wounds—it hurts before it can truly heal.

It is important to remember that emotions are not enemies. They are messengers. They resurface to highlight what’s unresolved, forgotten, and opportunities for new beginnings. Acting out is part of this reawakening process of experimenting, learning, and sometimes faltering as we rediscover emotional equilibrium.

Our goal is not emotional perfection but at least emotional fluency. Recovery equips us with the tools to pause, reflect, and eventually make choices that align with our values, rather than being hijacked by emotion. And this process takes time. It can take months, years, but the process is marked by those moments when you feel the storm and choose not to react impulsively, but to engage mindfully.

It’s a transformation. And I feel like it underscores a profound truth: to feel fully, even painfully, is to reclaim our humanity. Isn’t that a beautiful paradox? Rediscovering our emotions, finding strength, not avoiding our vulnerability but embracing it.