What He Taught Me About Emotional Regulation

I have not written here in a few weeks. In part, because life has been full, and in part, because several weeks ago, I lost my stepfather.

When something that significant happens, the words do not always come in the way they usually do. But this week feels like the right time to return. Not just to writing, but to sharing something that sits at the heart of the work I do every day, emotional regulation, and the person who quietly taught me more about it than anyone else ever has.

Frank was steady.

Not in a way that drew attention to itself, but in a way that created a sense of calm around him. When things felt heightened or uncertain, you knew you were safe if he was there. 

He had an ability to step into emotionally charged situations and bring balance. Whether it was a disagreement, a stressful moment, or someone feeling overlooked, he did not rush to fix or take control. He did not escalate or withdraw. He listened. He observed. He responded with care. And in doing so, he made people feel heard, respected and supported. This is emotional regulation in practice.

At his Celebration of Life, I shared a Maya Angelou quote that felt exactly right: "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." Because that is exactly who my stepdad was.

One of the things I spoke about in his eulogy was his deep sense of fairness.

He noticed when someone was being overlooked or treated unfairly, and he did something about it. Quietly, and without the need for recognition. When we are dysregulated, we tend to react from our own perspective. We move quickly, we defend, we try to resolve things on our terms. But, when we are regulated, we create space.

Space to understand different perspectives.

Space to listen fully.

Space to respond in a way that restores rather than divides.

He had that ability in a way that felt natural, but I do not think it was accidental. It was a way of being that he practiced over time and from personal experience.

He also demonstrated something that is often overlooked when we talk about emotional wellbeing: the importance of being present in ordinary moments. He found enjoyment in simple, daily rituals. A crossword puzzle. A cup of coffee. The morning paper. There was no urgency in those moments. No sense that they needed to be something more. He was fully, and unapologetically, present.

That kind of presence supports regulation. When we allow ourselves to slow down and engage with what is in front of us, our system has an opportunity to settle. We create moments of calm and clarity that are often missing in a fast-paced environment.

He was also someone people relied on.

There is a moment I shared in the eulogy. After my second car accident at sixteen, Frank was the person I called. Not my mother or my biological father, but him. Not because he would remove the difficulty, but because I trusted how he would meet me in it. He was steady, rational and supportive. He offered perspective without dismissing how I felt. He brought honesty without judgment.

That balance is not easy. It requires an ability to regulate your own response before stepping into someone else’s experience.

What stands out most is that he never described any of this as emotional regulation. He did not use that language. He was not trying to model anything explicitly. He simply showed up in a way that made people feel seen, capable, supported and safe.

In my work, I often talk about emotional regulation as something we build. Through awareness, through practice and through understanding our patterns. That remains true. But we also learn it through experience. Through the people around us. Through the environments that show us what it feels like to be regulated in the presence of another person.

My stepdad, a career educator and school principal, was that for many people. For his students, for his family and for me.

Returning to writing this week, I am aware that this perspective now sits more firmly at the centre of how I approach my work. Perhaps there is less focus on doing it perfectly, and more focus on how I show up. Because emotional regulation is not only an internal skill. It is relational. It is reflected in the experience others have when they are with us.

Emotional regulation is not about getting it right all of the time. It is about developing the awareness and capacity to respond with intention. I would encourage you to take a moment to reflect on your own experience: who has helped you feel steady, supported or understood, and how might that relationship influence the way you show up for others.