Women, Master Your Emotions to Truly Own Your Life

From the moment we’re born, women are often weighed down by societal expectations: be gentle, be accommodating, be selfless. We grow up juggling multiple roles—daughter, wife, mother—and in the process, we keep putting others’ needs first, forgetting the most important person to please: ourselves.

I once watched a short video about a Japanese woman that stayed with me, even though I can’t recall the full story. Three scenes, though, are burned into my memory—and they might feel all too familiar to many of you.

• The first scene: She’s up at 6 a.m., bustling around the kitchen to make breakfast. Her high school daughter’s morning meal is already on the table, and her lunch is being packed up. When her daughter finally drags herself out of bed, she snaps at her mom: “What are you doing? Why didn’t you wake me up? It’s all your fault—I’m gonna be late!” In her head, the woman fires back: “Get real! I called you a hundred times—you’re the one who refused to get up! I’ve been up since 6 a.m. slaving over your breakfast—how dare you yell at me!”

• The second scene: After her daughter slams the door and storms off, the woman keeps working in the kitchen. The landline rings, and her husband—lying shirtless on the sofa, flipping through a newspaper—shouts: “Phone! Answer the phone!” He wanders to the balcony, stretches, notices the washing machine isn’t working, and yells again: “Hey! The washing machine’s broken!” Peering into the kitchen, probably to see when dinner will be ready, he spots the soup boiling over and shouts a third time: “Hurry up! The soup’s spilling!” In her mind, she retorts: “I’m your wife, not your maid! Stop barking orders—can’t you lend a hand for once?”

• The third scene: That evening, she rushes straight to the kitchen after work and cooks her daughter’s favorite shrimp. It’s midnight when her daughter finally stumbles home. The woman jumps up eagerly: “Hurry! I made shrimp for you tonight!” Her daughter replies coldly: “I already ate,” and slams her bedroom door without a second glance. In her head, she explodes: “You’re a teenage girl—coming home this late! If you weren’t gonna eat, you could’ve texted me! I made all this food and waited hours for you!”

But here’s the harsh truth: only half of these scenes are real. Her daughter and husband really said and did those things—but her fiery comebacks were all in her head. In reality, when her daughter blamed her that morning, she didn’t even dare to defend herself softly. Instead, she begged her daughter to eat a little more before leaving. When her husband ordered her around, she rushed to answer the phone, check the washing machine, and save the soup—never daring to frown or shoot him an angry look. When her daughter brushed her off that night, she just sighed and quietly cleaned up the dishes.

This is the reality for so many women. We bottle up our anger, swallow our grievances, and put everyone else’s happiness before our own—all in the name of “being a good woman.” But is this really the life we want to live?

An old saying goes, “Life is unsatisfactory nine times out of ten.” Who hasn’t felt upset or frustrated when things don’t go our way? Yet when it comes to our own feelings, we often choose to grit our teeth and endure rather than speak up. I have a best friend who was smart and beautiful growing up—by traditional standards, she should’ve found a great partner. But because she has two older brothers and her family struggled financially, her parents prioritized her brothers’ weddings, and her own marriage was put on the back burner, again and again.

By the time she passed what society calls the “marriageable age” and then the “childbearing age,” she rushed to marry someone on a whim. Her husband was decent in many ways, but he had a bad chauvinistic streak—treating her like a maid the second he walked through the door. He’d flop down on the sofa, sprawled out, and bark orders: “Honey, get me a glass of water!” “Honey, peel me an apple!” “Honey, why is the floor so dirty?” “Honey, why haven’t you washed my socks?”

My friend worked full-time too, leaving home early and coming back late. After a exhausting day at work, she’d head straight to the kitchen. While she slaved over the stove, her husband would sit at the table with chopsticks, waiting impatiently. As soon as she served a dish, he’d start eating alone. By the time she finished cooking, he was almost full—leaving only leftovers for her. If a dish didn’t suit his taste, he’d criticize her harshly, like she’d done something unforgivable.

Even though she felt wronged every single day, she only complained to us in private—never daring to tell her husband how she felt. We urged her not to spoil him: “You don’t have to be treated like a princess, but you shouldn’t let him act like a king either.” She’d always sigh and say: “It’s fine. He’s actually good to me, just a little chauvinistic. Arguing won’t fix anything. It’s better to keep the peace.”

So many women endure in silence because we’ve been told: “Endure, and things will get better. Life has to go on.” But I ask you—if someone has to suffer for life to go on, why does it always have to be women? The old days of women being second-class are long gone; there’s no reason we should be the only ones sacrificing our joy.

Worse yet, we often pass this “endure to keep the peace” mindset on to other women. A mutual friend of ours was struggling with her mother-in-law, and my best friend told her: “Just endure it. Having a peaceful life is more important than anything.” “Don’t be so stubborn. You’re a wife, a daughter-in-law, and a mother now—you can’t act like you did when you were single. You have to think about them. Just endure.” “You’re always so unforgiving—what will people say about you? You have to grow up; that’s what being mature looks like.”

This made our friend feel unseen and misunderstood, and they almost stopped talking entirely. The truth is, this so-called “maturity” that tells us to be good wives, good mothers, and good daughters-in-law never tells us to be good to ourselves. It’s not a virtue—it’s neglect, numbness, and self-deception—a way to excuse our own cowardice. Why should we have to back down when we’re right, while the people in the wrong get to be loud and unapologetic?

This endless self-sacrifice and people-pleasing is a cage that traps women. So many women’s lives are ruined by this fake “maturity.”

I knew a woman named Feng Qiong, who was born into a family that favored sons over daughters. Life was bearable at first, but after her two younger brothers were born, she became almost invisible. When she was six, her parents asked her to call another couple “godparents,” and she lived with them from then on. Even though her godparents treated her better than her biological parents, she never felt like she belonged—she learned to smile even when she was hurt, and to swallow her pain without a word.

After graduating from technical school, she got a job at a small company. She was introverted, but she forced herself to be cheerful around others, telling bad jokes that made her look awkward. She’d cancel plans with friends to cover her colleagues’ overtime shifts, no questions asked. When people bullied her, she’d put on a silly smile, pretending to be tolerant and kind—even when her heart was breaking.

Over time, the grievances piling up in her heart became too heavy to bear. One day, she collapsed and took a handful of sleeping pills in her rental apartment. In her suicide note, she wrote: “I’m leaving this world that never felt like mine. In fact, my world only had others—never me.” Even in her final moments, she was still pleasing others: “I’m sorry, everyone—my parents, my godparents, my friends and colleagues who care about me. I hope my choice doesn’t bother you.”

People who don’t know how to express their emotions end up carrying all their pain alone. They’re labeled “nice people”—a label that’s often more pity than praise. That’s why, when couples break up, one person often says, “You’re a nice person” as a consolation. Over time, these “nice people” get overwhelmed, break down, and even make terrible, irreversible choices that end in tragedy.

Aunt Luo, my neighbor, was under 60 and had just retired a few years ago. Her life was like a mix of all the “great mothers,” “great wives,” and “great daughters” we read about in books. She was gentle and obedient since childhood, never causing her parents a moment of trouble. Even her marriage was arranged entirely by her parents. After getting married, she was the perfect wife and mother—working full-time while waiting on her husband hand and foot, spoiling her son like a prince, and caring for her parents-in-law like they were royalty. Unfortunately, shortly after retiring, she was diagnosed with cancer.

Lying in the hospital bed, she finally got to rest. She felt no fear, no regret—only relief. In her final days, she talked about all the grievances she’d endured her entire life. Her husband and son cried over and over, but they both said the same thing: “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

Aunt Luo’s life ended just like that. A lifetime of pain and sacrifice, and all she got was that one sentence. So many times, we endure all kinds of hurt and make huge sacrifices, thinking we’re being selfless—only to realize that no one else even notices. Blindly giving and sacrificing makes others take our kindness for granted, and we fade into the background of our own lives.

There’s a saying that’s unfair but true: “A former prostitute who turns over a new leaf is more easily forgiven than a chaste woman who remarries.” It’s a sad truth about human nature. “Lay down your sword, and you can become a Buddha instantly; but if you’ve always been a Buddha, picking up a sword once will send you to hell.”

People have higher expectations for “nice people” than for “bad people.” So a nice person who does good their whole life is called a villain for one mistake; a bad person who does evil their whole life is praised for one good deed. When you spend your life pleasing others and losing yourself, you set an impossible standard for yourself. When you finally wake up and realize your life is a mess, and try to take back control, people will push back.

They’ll gossip: “I never thought she was like that—she pretended to be so perfect.” They’ll act wise and say: “You really learn who someone is over time.” They’ll insult you like they’re moral judges. If you never show your emotions, people will assume you don’t have any. Then they’ll bully you, take advantage of you, and get angry when you fight back—like you’re betraying them. Unless, from the very start, you learn to express your emotions, and they get used to the real you.

Going back to that short video: what she imagined is what so many of us dream of doing but never dare. What she did is what so many of us choose to do. But there is a way out—we just need to learn to express our emotions properly.

There’s a third option between screaming and swallowing our pain: express your emotions clearly and respectfully. This is the first step to loving and respecting yourself.

To express your emotions well, you need to do two things:

First, recognize your emotions. Learn to step back and look at your feelings objectively, like an outsider. Ask yourself: What’s bothering me? Why am I feeling this way? If you’re not being unreasonable, you have every right to say how you feel. This doesn’t make you mean or explosive—it makes you someone who values their own feelings. And surprisingly, this often earns you the respect of others.

Second, accept yourself and set your boundaries. Many of us choose to endure because we love our husbands, our parents, our children. And chances are, they love you too. But love without boundaries becomes intrusion and harm—deep, lasting harm. Each of us is an independent person; you shouldn’t invade others’ space, and others shouldn’t invade yours—even if they say “I’m doing this for your own good.”

Set your boundaries: this is my personal space, and no one gets in without my permission. This isn’t about closing yourself off—it’s about becoming a strong, complete person.

Only when you master your emotions, honor your feelings, and stand up for your boundaries can you truly own your life. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to please everyone. You don’t have to suffer in silence. Your happiness matters. Your emotions matter. And you matter.