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I trust your a good summer: I did not. On the day we were supposed to be go on holiday, I was waiting at A&E with my husband, waiting for him to have necessary yet standard surgery, which resulted in our getaway ideas had to be cancelled.

From this situation I gained insight important, all over again, about how difficult it is for me to acknowledge pain when things don't work out. I’m not talking about profound crises, but the more common, subtly crushing disappointments that – without the ability to actually experience them – will really weigh us down.

When we were supposed to be on holiday but were not, I kept feeling a tug towards finding the positive: “I can {book a replacement trip|schedule another vacation|arrange a different getaway”; “At least we have {travel insurance|coverage for trips|protection for journeys”; “This’ll give me {something to write about|material for an article|content for a story”. But I didn't improve, just a bit down. And then I would confront the reality that this holiday was permanently lost: my husband’s surgery necessitated frequent uncomfortable wound care, and there is a limited time window for an enjoyable break on the shores of Belgium. So, no getaway. Just letdown and irritation, suffering and attention.

I know graver situations can happen, it's merely a vacation, what a privileged problem to have – I know because I tried that line too. But what I wanted was to be truthful to myself. In those moments when I was able to cease resisting the disappointment and we addressed it instead, it felt like we were sharing an experience. Instead of being down and trying to put on a brave face, I’ve given myself permission all sorts of unpleasant emotions, including but not limited to bitterness and resentment and hatred and rage, which at least appeared genuine. At times, it even was feasible to appreciate our moments at home together.

This brought to mind of a desire I sometimes notice in my psychotherapy patients, and that I have also witnessed in myself as a client in therapy: that therapy could in some way erase our difficult moments, like pressing a reset button. But that button only looks to the past. Confronting the reality that this is impossible and embracing the sorrow and anger for things not happening how we anticipated, rather than a dishonest kind of “reframing”, can enable a shift: from rejection and low mood, to progress and potential. Over time – and, of course, it requires patience – this can be transformative.

We consider depression as being sad – but to my mind it’s a kind of dulling of all emotions, a suppressing of rage and grief and disappointment and joy and life force, and all the rest. The alternative to depression is not happiness, but acknowledging every sentiment, a kind of honest emotional expression and release.

I have repeatedly found myself trapped in this desire to reverse things, but my young child is supporting my evolution. As a recent parent, I was at times overwhelmed by the astonishing demands of my newborn. Not only the nursing – sometimes for more than 60 minutes at a time, and then again under 60 minutes after that – and not only the outfit alterations, and then the doing it once more before you’ve even ended the swap you were handling. These day-to-day precious tasks among so many others – functionality combined with nurturing – are a solace and a great honor. Though they’re also, at moments, persistent and tiring. What astounded me the most – aside from the lack of rest – were the psychological needs.

I had thought my most primary duty as a mother was to meet my baby’s needs. But I soon came to realise that it was not possible to meet all of my baby’s needs at the time she required it. Her hunger could seem unmeetable; my nourishment could not be produced rapidly, or it flowed excessively. And then we needed to change her – but she despised being changed, and cried as if she were falling into a shadowy pit of misery. And while sometimes she seemed consoled by the embraces we gave her, at other times it felt as if she were distant from us, that no solution we provided could assist.

I soon discovered that my most important job as a mother was first to endure, and then to support her in managing the intense emotions triggered by the infeasibility of my protecting her from all distress. As she grew her ability to take in and digest milk, she also had to develop a capacity to process her feelings and her pain when the milk didn’t come, or when she was suffering, or any other hard and bewildering experience – and I had to grow through her (and my) annoyance, fury, despondency, hatred, disappointment, hunger. My job was not to ensure everything was perfect, but to support in creating understanding to her sentimental path of things not working out ideally.

This was the distinction, for her, between experiencing someone who was trying to give her only pleasant sentiments, and instead being helped to grow a ability to acknowledge all sentiments. It was the difference, for me, between desiring to experience excellent about performing flawlessly as a flawless caregiver, and instead developing the capacity to tolerate my own shortcomings in order to do a adequately performed – and comprehend my daughter’s letdown and frustration with me. The distinction between my seeking to prevent her crying, and comprehending when she required to weep.

Now that we have grown through this together, I feel less keenly the desire to click erase and alter our history into one where everything goes well. I find faith in my sense of a ability growing inside me to acknowledge that this is impossible, and to understand that, when I’m busy trying to reschedule a vacation, what I truly require is to sob.