Last week, we bought my daughter a “Mightier” tablet, which comes pre-loaded with software that helps children learn how to regulate their own emotions. The programming includes an armband to be worn for biofeedback. As her heart rate begins to quicken while she’s playing the associated games, the games begin to get more difficult until it prompts her to use certain techniques to help herself calm down, such as deep breathing, giving herself a big hug, or squeezing the included stress ball. This will not be a review of the “Mightier” product, as it is still very new and we are trying to determine if it is right for her, but I will do a review of it down the line if there is interest.

Anyway, as a result of this, I started thinking about emotional dysregulation a lot recently. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with this term, emotional dysregulation basically is what it sounds like: a difficulty in processing emotion so that the person in question may have meltdowns (not tantrums– those are different) because they just aren’t equipped to handle raw emotion. This is very common for young children who have very little experience with their body, mind, and the workings thereof, but it can also be a difference in the brain wiring. Emotional dysregulation is most often associated with autism, ADHD, anxiety, and PTSD.

I’ve been talking to a lot of people with the aforementioned diagnoses and the people who love them, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there is a flip side to emotional dysregulation that doesn’t get talked about much, if at all, because it doesn’t really get noticed. It’s easy to notice when someone is out of control, raging or crying, flailing, rocking, flapping, or otherwise stimming in an attempt to let out some of that unprocessed emotion, but what about when they are sitting quietly with a neutral or bored expression?

“Why are you sad?”

“You should smile more.”

“You look so bored.”

These are comments that have been made to me about the neutral and contemplative expression that often graces my face. I try to brush off their words, but the truth is it can feel quite hurtful because I actually do have difficulty sometimes trying to produce an emotion. Any emotion. And the struggle is made worse by people telling me to have a jovial exterior because I feel like they are asking me to change myself so that they can be comfortable.

I often think about the time my parents took me to Disney World and I rode on what was then called “The Tower of Terror” with my mother. (It has since been rebranded as a Guardians of the Galaxy themed ride.) This ride has the obligatory photo snap at the drop point, and I remember looking at the picture and realizing how bored and sad I looked, leaning on my mother’s shoulder while everyone around us had their hands over their heads, laughing and screaming. But I was having fun! Why didn’t I look like it? I wish I had purchased the picture because I feel like it’s really symbolic of what it’s like to be trapped inside one’s own head. Tangent aside, it’s the memory of this picture that really got me thinking about the idea that there may also be a non-emotional side to emotional dysregulation.

And for me, it stands to reason. I mean attention dysregulation includes both the inability to focus on a single task because one is focusing on everything all at once as well as a “hyperfocus” on a single task so exclusively that all else outside of that purview fails to even exist. In the same way, the full spectrum of emotional dysregulation would include not only an overkill of emotional reaction but also a flat affect– a limited or nonexistent emotional response.

So next time you see a person and they look bored, miserable, whathaveyou, maybe don’t come at them with your perception of their emotion. They could be like me and be having a great time, just with difficulty in showing it. Instead a simple, “Hey, how are you doing?” Would suffice. And then if you really want to see them smile, tell a joke.