WE often assume moods are personal, something we can carry quietly without affecting anyone else.
In reality, they rarely stay inside. A bad mood can shift the air in a room just as a raised voice does. A tense silence, an abrupt response or the refusal to engage altogether can shape the atmosphere for everyone present.
Neuroscience explains this through emotional contagion. We are equipped with mirror neurons that make us highly sensitive to one another’s states. Irritation, impatience or quiet resentment doesn’t remain confined to the individual; it spreads.
This does not mean we should hide or suppress our feelings. That kind of self-denial will only backfire. But there is a difference between acknowledging emotions and making others responsible for them. To express a mood is healthy; to expect others to rearrange themselves around it is unfair.
The silent treatment captures this difference sharply. Many use it as a way of signalling displeasure – retreating into silence until someone notices. But silence in this form rarely brings clarity; it breeds anxiety and second-guessing.
People begin to wonder if they are at fault, treading cautiously and eventually feeling drained by the lack of communication. What could have been resolved by saying, “I’m upset and need some space,” instead lingers as unspoken tension.
Silence itself is not harmful. Chosen intentionally, it can be grounding and restorative. Pausing to collect one’s thoughts, stepping away to breathe or holding back from unnecessary conflict are all constructive forms of silence. The harm comes when silence is used as punishment – when it becomes a tool to control or unsettle others rather than a moment of care.
Think of Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada. She rarely shouts but her clipped tone, icy stares and calculated silences dictate the behaviour of everyone in the office. Her mood becomes the weather and the entire staff scrambles to adjust. That is the power of emotional contagion in action: one person’s inner storm shaping the climate for everyone else.
This is where Robert Greene’s idea of the “social contract” becomes relevant. In every group or relationship, there is an unspoken agreement: we are responsible not just for our actions but also for the energy we contribute. Just as we would not leave physical clutter for others to clean up, we should not leave emotional clutter for others to carry.
So how do we manage our feelings responsibly without suppressing them or imposing them on others? It begins with awareness. Simply naming what we are feeling – reminding ourselves, “this is irritation” or “this is tiredness” – prevents the mood from taking over. When we label an emotion, we create space between ourselves and the reaction it may trigger.
The next step is to communicate with simplicity rather than theatrics. Offering a brief explanation, “I’m not at my best right now but it’s not about you”, will give others clarity without placing the burden of fixing us on their shoulders.
Practical resets also help. Moods can shift more quickly than we expect if we interrupt them. A walk outside, drinking water slowly or pausing to breathe deeply can reset the body enough to soften the emotion. These small rituals can keep emotions from snowballing into unnecessary drama.
Another useful practice is to check the effect we are having before entering a shared space. Asking “What am I about to bring into this room?” can be enough to prompt a small adjustment.
A straightened posture, slower breathing or a softened expression can often set the tone more than words ever can.
And when emotions are too raw, the kindest option is to step back. Choosing to excuse ourselves rather than spill our turmoil onto others is not weakness but responsibility. Time and space often do what no conversation can in the heat of the moment.
The costs of ignoring these practices are significant. Environments where moods go unchecked can become exhausting.
At work, colleagues learn to navigate around one person’s volatility. At home, partners and children grow uneasy, never knowing when a storm might erupt. Among friends, people quietly withdraw from those who repeatedly demand emotional accommodation.
While moods themselves may be fleeting, their residue often lingers much longer than we realise. By contrast, people who regulate their moods become stabilising presences. They are not detached; they still feel deeply. But they carry their emotions in ways that do not overwhelm others. Their steadiness provides comfort and safety, and their presence is remembered not for the moods they imposed but for the calm they offered.
The next time you sense a storm brewing within, pause and remember the social contract. You are entitled to your emotions but not to letting them spill unchecked into others’ lives.
Carry them with awareness, express them with care and release them with dignity. Because moods fade but the way we make people feel lasts. In the end, the real measure of presence is not just what we say or do but the energy we leave behind.
Dr Praveena Rajendra is a certified mental health and awareness practitioner specialising in narcissistic abuse recovery. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com