There’s no doubt about it – over-the-top expression is entertaining. The most successful personalities on social media have monetized their polarizing expressions and emotive explosions. The people who got rich gained popularity through controversy – people watched them because they were entertaining. They illicit strong emotions from the masses by confidently stating their opinions, presenting them as though they were facts, judging situations and products emphatically.
People love the spectacle that coincides boisterous communication and hyperbolic expression when observed at a distance. People don’t take kindly to hysterical exclamations over stubbed toes on the subway.
When is an intensive emotive expression appropriate?
Funerals. Concerts. Weddings. Women’s water closets – specifically in nightclubs.
Determinations about whether something or someone is dramatic would ideally be universal. We could easily define exactly what constitutes propriety so that we, the people, could go about our lives without embarrassment. Instead, I have noticed that people present their emotionally derived opinions as objective truth. We hide visible displays of emotions at parties, in cubicles, and on public transportation. We swallow our tears, breathe away our rage, and count to ten.
We fear other people witnessing our emotions because anything visible is subject to critique. Our spectators determine whether emotive expression is contextually appropriate in the same fashion that they deduce whether our sartorial expression is professional. If inappropriate, our character is questioned.
Should that person be allowed to continue working here?
Do we wish to continue being friends with this person?
Do we stop inviting them to parties?
Emotion drives opinion, opinions are presented as fact, and every fact is irrefutable. This chain reaction happened for one reason – people don’t want their integrity to be questioned. Accusing someone of melodrama is accusing them of manipulation. It means they have poor judgment skills, lack etiquette, and are generally unpleasant to be around. Melodrama implies that someone faked issues where there are none for the sake of being the center of attention.
Reality is widely synonymous as ‘truth’. Being realistic means having a true understanding of the situation. Our society assumes that reality is singular. If we all possess different perceptions of the same situation, and perception is reality, it is reasonable to assume that reality is a composite. By extension, truth would be a mosaic. If multiple things can be true simultaneously, how do we discern right and wrong?
Other people’s perceptions of our displays of emotion are intrinsically tied to our credibility, our integrity, and our perceived capabilities. Call into question the appropriateness of an emotion, you call into question the person.
“She’s a bit much.”
“He has a level head on his shoulders.”
Question the person enough, their reputation becomes stained by distrust. If you can’t trust a person’s reactions, you can’t trust the person. Determining whether we can trust people relates to our personal ethics and moral codes. We all desire to be ‘right,’ and ‘rightness’ is synonymous with morality and goodness.
Can we be justified in our emotional expression and dramatic simultaneously?
“I think so, yes.”
That would mean all answers are the right answers.
And that infuriates me.
Let’s circle back to the definition of melodrama. The definition of melodrama is sensationalized expression with the intention of inciting a certain emotion. Melodramatic expressions have one goal – to manipulate people. If larger-than-expected emotional responses are witnessed, and the person who is emoting is NOT trying to manipulate the other person, they are not dramatic. Enthusiastic, maybe. Exuberant, perhaps.
Just because we don’t understand why someone is reacting a certain way does not mean they are being manipulative – it just means that we think we would behave differently if we were in the same situation.
Innumerable times I was called dramatic as a child – by my friends, my foster parents, my teachers. Sometimes it made sense, like when:
- I screamed when I stubbed my toe.
- When I became infuriated over a crochet project and threw the whole thing across the room.
- Or when I panicked over having an adhesive bandage ripped off my forearm.
But there were instances where I was informed that I was dramatic simply because the other person felt that I should not have had a visible emotional reaction. I can’t tell you how many times I was accused of dramatics simply for crying when my foster mother berated me with malicious words to ‘put me in my place’.
I had no right to cry, you see. I was culpable. I was wrong. She was just putting me in my place. My foster mother believed that my tears were a feeble attempt to manipulate her into feeling bad about her treatment of me (which she felt was entirely justified and commensurate with my behavior).
My eldest son feels his emotions openly. He cries deeply when he’s sad – purple-faced and wailing. He growls when he’s frustrated. He screams when he’s angry. He laughs with his head thrown back until tears are streaming down his face. He gives the warmest hugs.
My eldest is deeply attuned to his surroundings, and he’s aware of other people’s feelings. He’s compassionate, enthusiastic, empathetic, silly, and at times – a little nuts.
Sometimes I feel that his emotional responses are not commensurate with the situation. To illustrate this, I’ll provide you with something that happened this weekend:
- My son asked me for an apple
- I said yes, and asked if he would like it whole or in slices
- He asked for slices
- I sliced the apple
- I gave him his apple slices
- He started wailing and bawling his eyes out
- “I DIDN’T SAY THAT I WANTED APPLE SLICES!”
My son collapsed into hysterics, to the point where he gave himself hiccoughs, over receiving something that he asked for!
This is a common experience for three-year-olds. I know that my son was not trying to manipulate me. More than likely, he had meant that he wanted the apple (not cut up in slices), but he had misspoken.
I scooped up my son in a big bear hug.
“You’re feeling really frustrated right now. You had meant to tell mommy that you wanted the whole apple, and instead you received slices,” I said.
My son whimpered his agreement and nodded.
I rocked him back and forth until his tears stopped flowing.
“It’s okay to be frustrated. I misspeak sometimes too. Would you like to come with me to pick out another apple?”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“Yes, baby. I’ll enjoy the slices.”
“Okay, Mama! Thank you so much!”
We walked to the kitchen, and I handed him an apple.
It would have been so easy to scold him for flipping out.
It would be so easy to view this situation as him trying to manipulate me.
It would be so easy to call him dramatic for crying over something he asked for.
Per usual, I chose the hard way.
I reminded myself how small he is. I reminded myself that, developmentally speaking, children don’t develop the ability to manipulate others until they’re seven years old. My son will be four years old in March.
That means that his dysregulation over the apple was real.
He wasn’t trying to manipulate me. He was frustrated with himself for saying words inconsistent with his desires. And, because he’s my son, his frustration was loud.
I took the deep breaths I’m trying to teach him to take.
I snuggled him to help regulate the noise inside of his body.
I validated his emotions.
I ignored my foster mother’s voice in my head.
“You’re just spoiling him! Don’t just give him another apple!”
I chose to soothe his emotions rather than judge them.
I chose to comfort him instead of assigning him a negative label.
In these small moments, I think I might be healing myself too.
Perfectionist Rehab 
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