The Silence of The Tiger: what emotional dysregulation really looks like

I just got back from visiting New Jersey two nights ago, and the whole trip left an immense impact on me. Not only did I recognize the simmering emotional chaos brewing in me minute by minute, I also witnessed how an unhealthy environment can derail regulation and healing. During those 11 days, I watched the tiger inside me slowly awaken — and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The research was clear: the hyperactivity in men and women (especially women) with ADHD, usually internalize in adult days. Meaning that instead of being agitated, restless, and all over the places physically, our MINDS become agitated, restless and all over the places, intensely. With the proven fact, it is no wonder that it becomes harder and harder for us ADHD-ers to regulate our emotions as we become older (if not treated or paid attention to) - because not only our minds are already racing and overworking from our unique brain capacities, we also need to tend to more thoughts and feelings then more thought and feelings time and after time again.

Over the years, to build a life that supports my well-being, I’ve let go of many relationships and environments that no longer served me — both personally and professionally. Not that these people or jobs were bad; they just weren’t good for me. And to no faults of their / our own, I made these choices knowing that I am easily tempted, like a tiger with its prey. I’ve also given up some of the fancier parts of my life in exchange for peace and purpose, free from unnecessary distractions (and we all know how easily distracted we can get) - because some distractions are like the annoying kids who rattle the cage at the zoo while screaming relentlessly at the tiger - they are the bane of our existence.

This trip back to NJ was something of a milestone. It is the place where I set my roots in the United States. It was because of my family there, I was able to get a green card so I can pursue my American Dream. So when help was needed, it was a good opportunity for me to get back and give back. I knew what I was getting myself into - without going into full details - just know that it was not an environment I or anyone can cope with really well, which is to be expected in a traditional and old school Taiwanese working environment sometimes. The short of it is that it is a triggering environment for me but I braced for impact as I wanted to help my aunt.

It is really hard to explain how the emotions unfolded without telling the full events that happened, however, know that I went from everything Zen in my life to experiencing heavy negative feelings more than 12 hours a day.

The 11 days felt like forever. It went like this: realizing that the encounters could be traumatizing but knowing that there was no turning back. Every unsavory encounter was internalized and stuffed in the already complex head of mine. I shared some small details with a friend but they were all at the surface level. You can't really understand it unless you experience it and knowing the dynamic and the culture of this type of dysfunction. For 11 days, feelings and thoughts were kept inside; but they didn't stop at feelings and thoughts. They went beyond "what had happened" to "why and how did they happened, what did this mean, and how could anyone move forward" down to every single words being shout out, and every single actions being played out.

I have had routines that keep my emotions in check such as meditation, strength workout, and journal, yes, even if I have been steadily embracing my ADHD and self-esteem, these self-care methods become a part of me and my gateway to internal freedom. All of these went out the window as soon as I touched down at EWR. So for 11 days, not only did I work 11-hour day, I was too tired to take care of myself mentally and physically. All of this contributed to the moment when I finally exploded. The progression up to the moment of boom was felt - like I was watching myself turning into something I can't fathom, day by day, each day felt a little bit heavier in my body and that was when I finally realized this process is what dysregulation feels like.

I think the word "I can't fathom" rings true to how it really feels. Because everything felt unreal and it was as if I was living in someone else's body. I can't really describe if it was anger, frustration or sadness, but they were felt (and kept inside without any regulation or expression).

The important note about emotional regulation and ADHD is that even our "lashing out" and "explosive emotions" seems sudden, it is a progression. We stay silent because we observe, internalize, and in hope to regulate itself out of misery. This, in fact, does not do us any favor. I can't count how many times people can always tell that I am pissed off and they stay clear of my lane - because the emotions are so heavy that my whole body emanate a force that no one can (or should) reckon with.

That moment, the night before I was leaving, the tiger could no longer stay silent. I stood in the kitchen where all the triggers were letting loose at the same time, and finally shouted out my displeasure and piece of mind - then I walked away. Really wasn't proud of my action, but also would like to keep my dignity.

The next day I got back to PDX at 10pm, picked up my dog from the sitter, and drove home with emptiness. The energy bank was depleted, and the emotions compass was disengage from the magnetic fields. I took the next day offline to completely heal and then the next day I did two sessions of extreme sports so I could forget. It is the third day of getting back on track but I did not really feel like getting back on track.

And this is the paralyzing effect emotion dysfunction has: It is not just about regulating, it is also about getting back to steady. It may take someone a few hours of being around friends to get back to normal from a triggering event - but for us neurodivergent people - it takes as long as it takes, because everything was felt regardless how big or small, and the feeling is magnified hence more obtrusive thoughts that which caused more overwhelming emotions.

So there are a few things I learned from the silence of my tiger:

• Awareness is the beginning of healing. The fact that I could see the tiger awakening, even if I couldn’t stop it, was powerful. Awareness doesn’t erase dysregulation, but it gives it a name. It transforms chaos into understanding.

• Your environment can make or break your regulation. No matter how grounded I am, when I’m surrounded by criticism, control, or emotional tension, regulation becomes a losing battle. You choose your battle, and choose wisely.

• Silence doesn’t equal calm. I learned that my quiet was suppression. Every time I stayed silent to “keep the peace,” I was really swallowing my truth and feeding the storm inside me.

• Boundaries are acts of self-respect. Walking away from dysfunction, even when it means disappointing others, isn’t selfish. It’s choosing peace over guilt, clarity over chaos, and self-respect over compliance.

• Regulation is a process, not a moment. Coming back to center doesn’t happen overnight. Dysregulation lingers — in the body, in the mind, in the energy. It takes patience, rest, and compassion to find steady again.

When I was at the brink of the explosion, I messaged my parents who live in Taiwan. I told them everything that had happened, explaining that I could no longer stay silent and just watch the storm pass by. They were empathetic — they told me they knew this would reach a breaking point, because they knew how I am, and they had experienced that environment many times before. They admitted they hadn’t warned me because they wanted me to help the family. And that, right there, is the battle I’ve been trying to fight all along: the conflict between family duty and personal peace. But if given the same situation, I would help my aunt again in a heartbeat.

Maybe the real lesson was about choosing inner peace as strength, not because we are selfish, but because we are selfless...the more we can take care of ourselves, the better we can do for our loved ones. And that is the kind of strength that lets the tiger rest, without losing her power.