8 heartbreaking ways Boomers were taught to suppress their emotions—and what it cost them

Isabella Chase by Isabella Chase | October 12, 2025, 3:01 pm
There’s a moment that happens in therapy offices everywhere. Someone in their seventies sits down, maybe for the first time, and the therapist asks how they’re feeling. Not what they’re thinking. How they’re feeling.

The silence that follows isn’t defiance—it’s genuine confusion. An entire generation was systematically taught to disconnect from their emotional life, and now they’re living with the consequences. Here’s how it happened, and what it cost.

1. “Big boys don’t cry”

This phrase wasn’t just repeated—it was gospel. Boys learned before kindergarten that tears meant weakness, that emotional expression was fundamentally unmasculine. The message arrived early and clear: lock it down or lose respect.

What got lost was any ability to process grief, disappointment, or pain in healthy ways. Those emotions got rerouted into anger, the only “acceptable” feeling for men. Decades later, many struggle to access vulnerability even when they desperately want to. The door closed so early they forgot it was ever open.

2. “Children should be seen and not heard”

This wasn’t about volume control—it was about emotional erasure. Children’s feelings were considered decorative at best, irrelevant at worst. If you were upset, scared, or angry, the appropriate response was silence until you could present something more pleasant.

The long-term damage shows up in how many struggle to advocate for their own needs. They learned that expressing discomfort was burdensome, that their internal experience mattered less than maintaining outward peace. That training doesn’t evaporate just because you turn sixty-five.

3. “Stop being so sensitive”

Sensitivity became an insult, something to be trained out like a bad habit. If something hurt your feelings, the problem wasn’t what hurt you—it was that you had feelings about it. You were too soft, too thin-skinned, fundamentally too much.

This created people who learned to distrust their own emotional responses. When your feelings are constantly invalidated, you stop listening to them. You stop trusting the internal signals warning you something’s wrong. That disconnect ripples through relationships, careers, and self-perception for decades.

4. “We don’t talk about that”

Family secrets weren’t just protected—they were weaponized. Alcoholism, abuse, mental illness, money problems—all got shoved into a closet and locked. The implicit rule was that acknowledging problems made them real. Pretending they didn’t exist was somehow strength.

What this actually taught was that honesty was dangerous and appearances mattered more than reality. Many carry this into their own families, perpetuating cycles of silence around difficult topics. The cost is intimacy. You can’t have genuine closeness when half the family story is forbidden territory.

5. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps”

This American mythology about self-reliance got internalized as moral law. Asking for help meant failure. Admitting struggle meant you weren’t trying hard enough. Every problem had to be solved alone, through sheer grit and determination.

The reality is that chronic stress without support damages both mental and physical health over time. Many are now dealing with the accumulated toll of decades spent refusing to reach out. They equated needing others with weakness, and face isolation they don’t know how to break through.

6. Physical discipline as the default response

Spanking wasn’t controversial—it was standard operating procedure. When children acted out emotionally, the response was often physical rather than exploratory. Nobody asked why you were upset. The goal was immediate compliance, not understanding.

This taught that emotions were problems to be controlled through force, not signals to be understood. Many never learned to ask themselves “why am I feeling this way?” because the framework they inherited was about suppression, not exploration.

Rudá Iandê addresses this disconnection in his new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos. “Until our intellect stops fighting our emotions,” he writes, “there can be no true integration between these two essential aspects of our being.” It’s exactly the integration that an entire generation was taught to avoid.

7. “What happens in this house stays in this house”

Privacy became secrecy. Family problems were shameful things to hide from neighbors, friends, even extended family. The outside world got a carefully curated version of family life, regardless of what was actually happening behind closed doors.

This created profound discomfort with vulnerability that extends far beyond childhood. Many struggle to open up even to therapists or doctors because they were taught that family matters—which included all emotional struggles—were private territory. The boundary between healthy privacy and harmful secrecy got completely erased.

8. The expectation of immediate emotional recovery

When something difficult happened, there was an unspoken timeline for “getting over it.” Grief, trauma, disappointment—you were expected to process these quickly and return to functionality. Extended emotional struggle was seen as self-indulgent or attention-seeking.

But emotional processing takes time, sometimes years. By rushing through or around difficult feelings, many never fully processed major life events. Those unprocessed emotions don’t disappear—they wait. Often they emerge later as anxiety, depression, or physical symptoms that seem to come from nowhere.

Final thoughts

The difficult truth is that these patterns weren’t created with malicious intent. Most parents were passing down what they themselves were taught, operating within cultural norms that seemed unquestionable at the time. Emotional suppression was considered good parenting, healthy discipline, proper preparation for a difficult world.

But understanding origins doesn’t erase impact. An entire generation learned to distrust their own emotional experience, to see feelings as obstacles rather than information. Many are only now, in their sixties and seventies, beginning to unpack what that cost them—in relationships, in self-knowledge, in basic peace.

The hopeful part is that it’s never too late to learn differently. Younger generations watching this reckoning are making different choices, breaking cycles, teaching their own children that feelings aren’t enemies. Progress happens slowly, one generation deciding they won’t pass down everything they inherited.