“When Sadness is at Your Door”

On Friday, we talked briefly about Julie Fogliano’s poem “April 3” (if you missed it, check out the PandaReadsBlog Facebook or Instagram page), which I feel is an important poem–particularly now–because it looks at the oft-forgotten melancholy of spring.

As Easter approaches, we’re generally accustomed to a bombardment of sunshiny images–new flowers, baby bunnies, nesting birds . . . but you could hardly be blamed if you’re finding these things a bit lacking in joy right now. You may feel instead, as Fogliano puts it, like “everyone . . . [has] decided / to wear their sadness on the outside.” And like the sun in her poem, you may simply be “exhausted from trying.”

The amorphousness of this crisis is uniquely suited to making us all–adults and children alike–feel a creeping, pervasive sadness that seems difficult to combat.

But perhaps our very instinct to try and “fight” our sadness is misguided. Eva Eland’s “When Sadness is at Your Door,” with its sparse but evocative illustrations, offers gentle guidance on how to deal with such a feeling when it follows you around the house–making flowers droop, stifling you on the couch, and generally not leaving you alone.

The book opens with our protagonist, a young child, answering the door to find sadness–personified as a large, teal-colored shape–standing outside (and aptly carrying some heavy-looking “baggage.”)

In the following pages, we see how sadness’ imposition is troubling our protagonist. It sits so close to them on the couch that they “can hardly breathe,” and engulfs them completely as they try to enjoy an outing to the park. Moreover, their efforts to “hide” sadness by shutting it in the broom closet prove (a little humorously) futile.

But then, what on Earth are we meant to do with it?

Eland begins by telling us to “try not to be afraid of sadness.” We see our child protagonist sitting down with sadness on kitchen chairs, offering a humble, “hello.” They have some visual distance on the page that echoes a less tangible–but no less important–mindful distance.

Here, Eland’s command to “give it a name” is reminiscent of the classic Mister Rogers adage, “what’s mentionable is manageable”–a concept he purportedly picked up from one of his lifelong teachers and advisers, child psychologist Margaret McFarland.

The importance of talking about overwhelming emotions was an ever-present theme in Rogers’ long-running show–and in “When Sadness is at Your Door,” we go a step beyond to talk with our emotions themselves. “Listen to [sadness],” Eland urges. “Ask it where it comes from and what it needs.”

Still, she acknowledges that sometimes sadness is inscrutable, and no amount of discourse will explain its presence. Or perhaps you know why it’s here, but are powerless to change the circumstances under which it has appeared. So we see the child and sadness “just sitting together” (though no longer stiflingly close) on the couch. Then, Eland says, “find something that you both enjoy.”

In the next pages, the child who was previously trapped beneath the oddly-shaped weight of sadness becomes a sort of caretaker. They draw with sadness, nourish it with hot chocolate, and encourage it on a walk through the rainy woods. Once visibly overshadowed by sadness, they now look empowered as they guide sadness along–and even “welcome” it.

Though on the surface this comforting little book might seem simple, it works masterfully to break down skills like mindfulness and emotional regulation–which are not always easy even for adults–in a way that children can both understand and put into practice themselves.

Casting sadness as a separate character helps minds that aren’t yet naturally adept at metaphorical thought to grasp the idea that they have not “become sadness [themselves],” even though it might feel all-encompassing. Addressing actions one can take to ease sadness as things done with or for the emotion itself is a brilliant workaround to the problem of apathy and disinterest–you may not feel like drawing or taking a walk when you’re sad, but maybe sadness does. 

And perhaps most importantly, there’s no blame or shame in Eland’s narrative. No one tells the child that they should just cheer up or look on the bright side. They are allowed to feel the depth and validity of their sadness–to really embrace it, and then face it head-on.

To return again to Mister Rogers (it’s hard to get away from Mister Rogers when talking about children and emotions), we should remember that his concept of “managing” feelings went beyond just “mentioning” them; it was important to Fred that children “accept all their feelings as natural.” Simply accepting an emotion goes a great deal of the way towards getting it under control. To quote Rogers: 

“There’s no ‘should’ or ‘should not’ when it comes to having feelings. They’re part of who we are and their origins are beyond our control. When we can believe that, we may find it easier to make constructive choices about what to do with those feelings.” ¹

If you or your loved ones are confronting sadness that seems unmanageable right now, I can’t recommend enough that you add “When Sadness is at Your Door” to your library. Open and reassuring, it may serve as a useful tool in the coming days. At the very least, let it remind you to have a sit-down with your own feelings.

And while you’re at it–a little hot cocoa could never hurt.

¹ Rogers, Fred. The World According to Mister Rogers. Hachette Books, 2019.