What To Do With Trapped Emotions

Disclaimer
I’m not a doctor, a psychologist, or a psychiatrist – just a curious explorer of this human experience. This post is simply my mind wandering and wondering, trying to figure things out. It’s not meant as professional advice or to hold you back from seeking help with hard emotions.

Noticing the old hurts we didn’t know were there

I’m not sure if it’s this stage of life or the time of year that’s turning me inward, but lately I’ve been reflecting … a lot. There’s something about early winter – maybe the long shadows, maybe the quiet – that invites the kind of noticing I used to be too busy to do.

Recently, I’ve begun recognizing emotions tied to childhood moments I had long forgotten or didn’t think mattered. It turns out, they did, quite a lot, and they could be affecting my health. Ok I’ve read about how emotions affect the body, it’s no surprise but geesh! When you get it you get it!

And when those memories surfaced, the emotions came with them – like something vibrating under floorboards I didn’t know were hollow. Suddenly I was aware of a tightness, a heaviness, tucked away in body places I don’t usually pay attention to… because they’ve been there so long.

Let me illustrate with a simple memory many of us might recognize.

A Christmas Clue

One Christmas, I wanted to give each of my siblings a gift. Since I didn’t have money to buy anything, I asked my mom what I could do. She set me up with a small wooden ornament craft kit, and I spent hours painting each one carefully, threading tiny ribbons through the holes so they could hang on the tree.

I don’t remember much after that – my childhood files are not exactly orderly – but recently I recalled the scenario with surprising clarity. What came with it was the feeling of hurt, and maybe a hint of anger, at my gifts not being appreciated. And as soon as that memory showed up, it connected itself to other moments across my life – times when I offered something from the heart (a handmade thing, an idea, something I thought might be helpful) and it wasn’t received the way I hoped.

There it was again: the old hurt. The old anger. The same emotion wearing different outfits.

Then something unexpected happened. I felt that emotion physically – like a locked knot in my respiratory system. A tightness in my bronchial area. A kind of hardness.

Wouldn’t you know it? As a child I often had bronchitis and pneumonia, and even now I get the occasional bout of asthma.

Related?
I can only guess: yes.

Moments like this, I call “OHwareness” – because I inevitably think “ohhhhhhhh” when a new tumbler clicks into place and a hidden mental door swings open.

Sometimes I wonder how many other little emotional freckles I’ve been carrying around without even noticing. I’ll be folding towels or stirring soup and suddenly a memory will flash – not a dramatic one, just a tiny moment from decades ago – and my body answers before my brain does. A tight throat. A fluttery stomach. Shoulders rising up like they’re trying to hide my ears.
It still surprises me how physical emotions can be. And… it makes me curious about what else is waiting to be acknowledged.

Part of me wonders how many of us are carrying these small emotional bruises, convinced they’re nothing because we survived them. Maybe midlife makes us braver about turning around and looking at the things we once sprinted past.

But awareness is only the first step. Then comes the harder part:

What on earth do you do with a newly uncovered emotion that’s been living rent-free in your ribs since 1973?

Therapy?

Naturally, my first thought was therapy. Isn’t that what most people do when emotional dust surfaces? But for me, something didn’t sit right. I had the sense that talking about these trapped emotions would just keep them circling the drain a little longer.

Not because therapy doesn’t work – it absolutely does for many people. But this particular knot felt like it needed something different. More… elemental.

Journaling?

My next thought was journaling. This is usually my go-to. I do very well sorting myself out through a pen. But this time, even that felt off. I didn’t want to study these emotions or analyze them or flip them around like a Rubik’s Cube.

I wanted to release them. To stop hosting them at the dinner table of my mind.

Phone a Friend?

I also considered talking it out with a sister or a close friend. After all, sometimes saying things out loud is half the magic. But in this case, I didn’t want anyone walking away wondering if they’d accidentally caused all this emotional archaeology. Some things aren’t about assigning blame or revisiting old dynamics – they’re just about noticing what’s still hanging around inside us. For this one, I felt better keeping the exploration solo, at least for now.

Ceremony

So, I let the question simmer. I’ve learned over the years that if I don’t force an answer, a better one shows up on its own.

And sure enough, while driving one morning, it came to me: fire. No, not cigarettes (no thank you) and not incense either. I meant smoke – actual fire.

Once upon many moons ago, I’d explored Celtic traditions that use the elements – nature, earth, flame – to cleanse and nourish. Something about that rang true for what I was feeling. The idea wasn’t fully formed, but it felt warm in my chest (a nice change from the usual tightness).

Then, I let it steep a little longer.

The next morning, I took out some nice stationery and wrote a letter. A letter to the emotions. I told them I was finished with them, that I was releasing what was mine, and anything that wasn’t mine – whether ancestral or borrowed from people I loved. Because honestly? It felt like more than just my own history tangled up in there.

*** QUICK SIDENOTE HERE – I’ve recently discovered that I cannot take anyone’s pain or suffering away from them. I’ve learned that trying just sticks us both with the junk! The best I can do is witness it with them until they’re finished with it all on their own. WILD EH?! I’ll have to write more on this later! ***

Ok, back to the story …

I folded the letter into an envelope with a bit of sage for cleansing and rose petals for love and appreciation. I carried it in my pocket all day so it could pick up whatever energy needed to be gathered.

That evening, I took the envelope to the fire pit and set it alight.

When the flames caught the envelope, I found myself leaning in just a little – not to watch it burn, but to honour it. That surprised me. I didn’t expect gratitude to show up in the middle of an emotional eviction. But there it was, a softness., almost a thank-you for the lesson – even if it arrived decades late.

Coincidence that it was Halloween? Perhaps. Or maybe the veil was a little thinner that night – thin enough for old emotions to slip through and be done with me.

When the flames died down, I walked away from the ashes feeling lighter, breathing deeper, shaking off any leftovers. For that layer, at least, I’d chosen the right approach. And I also know the next layer might need something different.

Because healing – at least the kind I’m experiencing – is not a one-and-done operation. It’s more like peeling an onion in low light with unexpected tears and the occasional surprise.

But it is movement. It is progress. Even when it doesn’t look like it.

So what can we actually do with trapped emotions?

If you’re noticing things too – little emotional echoes showing up in your body – try pausing for a moment the next time it happens. Just long enough to ask, “Where have I felt this before?” You don’t need a perfect answer. Even asking the question softens something inside.

Here’s where my reflections have led me so far:

We notice them.
The memory. The sensation. The emotional echo.
Noticing is powerful. It interrupts the old autopilot.
We get curious instead of judgmental.
Curiosity makes space where judgment tightens everything.
We choose a way to release, not re-entangle.
For some, that’s therapy.
For others, journaling or talking it out.
For others still, something more physical – walking, stretching, creative expression.
And sometimes, it’s ceremony.
We stay open to the next layer.
Because another one will show up eventually. That’s not a failure.
It’s just proof we’re still alive, learning and growing.

The quiet truth about trapped emotions

Here’s what I’m starting to believe – tentatively, but with growing conviction:

Trapped emotions aren’t flaws. They’re unspoken stories.

They linger because they were never witnessed, never named, never given the dignity of being felt. And when one finally surfaces, it’s not because you’re falling apart, it’s because you’re finally strong enough to hear it.

You don’t need to fix the past. You don’t need to rewrite the story. You don’t even need to understand every detail. You only need to let what’s been locked inside you finally exhale.

Sometimes that looks like therapy, sometimes like journaling, sometimes like a flicker of a candle or campfire, releasing a letter into the dark.

But always – always – it looks like coming home to yourself.

So if an old memory taps you on the shoulder, or a feeling shows up uninvited, or your body sends you a sensation that doesn’t quite match the moment… pause.

Breathe.
Notice.
Ask what it’s trying to hand you.

I sometimes imagine what our bodies would say if they could talk plainly. Would they sigh in relief? Roll their eyes at how long it took us to connect the dots? Or whisper, “Finally… I’ve been waiting for you to notice.”

If something in this stirred a memory of your own – or if you’ve found your own ways of releasing old emotions – I’d genuinely love to hear about it … not in a “tell me everything” way, but in the quiet, human way we learn from each other’s stories.