Power, Control, and Learning to Feel Again

In group today we dug into power and control—not the toxic versions we usually think of, but the healthy kind. The kind that shows up in boundaries, self-awareness, and emotional responsibility. It reminded me of a lesson I drilled into my kids when they were young: you can’t control what other people do, but you can control how you choose to respond.

I understood that lesson on the surface back then, but today we went a few layers deeper. We talked about how boundaries aren’t walls or punishments; they’re clarity.  They’re the line between what we allow into our lives and what we refuse to carry—a purpose they serve well. Setting them, communicating them, and sometimes enforcing them isn’t weakness—it’s strength used wisely.

But the part that hit hardest was realizing that I’ve spent years learning to control my emotions… and almost no time learning how to feel them again. The military teaches you how to push through, how to compartmentalize, how to stay steady no matter what’s going on inside or around you.  Remain calm in the chaos. However, It doesn’t teach you how to safely open the valve later. So things stack up, layer after layer, until eventually it cracks—because even the strongest structure breaks when the pressure has nowhere to go.  I’ve seen this truth even in some of our nation’s most elite warriors, and until recently I didn’t understand how it could happen.

We talked about healthy ways to actually feel anger instead of burying it. Letting it move. Letting it matter. And yes—my two go-to outlets both made the list: art and writing. I’m grateful for that, because these two practices have saved me more times than I can count.

Today’s drawing was originally a design concept a friend asked me to create for them. It holds pieces of their story—Aloha, family, legacy, the Hawaiian islands, a hibiscus, plumeria, and a pineapple filled with initials, a paw print, a treble clef, and a wave.  As it evolved and I finished it, it ended up fitting today’s theme too.

Art lets me express things I don’t always have words for. It gives my emotions a shape before I try to explain them. And writing lets me process those feelings and understand them instead of stuffing them down. Together, they help me reclaim something I didn’t even realize I’d lost—my ability to feel in real time, not just after the fact.

Today wasn’t comfortable. But it was needed. It was about trusting the process—and it reminded me that strength isn’t just holding the line. Sometimes it’s knowing when to soften, when to speak up, and when to finally feel what you’ve been carrying.

 

If parts of this reflection resonate and you’re considering a tattoo or custom artwork that reflects your journey, leave a message below or visit Honor and Ink™. I’d love to talk. Your story deserves to be seen in a way that feels honest and personal.  I’m here to help you turn your experiences into something meaningful and built to last.