Last night, I rewatched Inside Out. Not a new release—it came out ten years ago—but I felt drawn to it again, because the sequel just came out. I’ll watch that today or tomorrow.
The first time I saw it was the week after Shayna passed. My wife and I went to the theater—something that, in hindsight, might’ve been a mistake. The only emotion I had access to was sadness. I cried the entire time.
Watching it again, something shifted. This time, I didn’t just feel sad. I felt seen.
Meet Riley—and Her Inner Control Room
Inside Out tells the story of Riley, an 11-year-old girl whose family moves from Minnesota to San Francisco. The real story plays out inside her mind, where five core emotions—Joy, Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust—share a control panel, shaping her every reaction.
From the start, Sadness is cast as the problem. She turns Riley’s happy memories blue. Joy tries to sideline her. “Just stay in the circle,” Joy says, “and don’t touch anything.” My friend, watching with me, said, “Just leave her behind."
Sadness becomes the emotion no one wants around. And honestly? That sounded familiar.
When Sadness Stops Being the Villain
There’s this turning point in the film where Joy and Sadness get stranded far from headquarters. Along the way, they meet Bing Bong—Riley’s forgotten imaginary friend. He’s heartbroken over being left behind. Joy tries to cheer him up, but nothing works.
Then, Sadness sits down with him. She doesn’t distract him. She doesn’t try to fix it. She just listens.
And that’s what helps.
Joy is stunned. “How did you do that?”
Sadness says simply, “I just let him be sad.”
What We Miss When We Mute Sadness
Later, Riley spirals. She tries to run away because the grief of losing her old life is too big to carry alone. But it’s not Joy who saves her—it’s Sadness. The other emotions realize this is a job for Sadness, not Joy.
They have to find a way to get Riley back home, It’s Sadness that turns her around.
When Sadness finally takes the controls, Riley can say what she’s been holding in: I miss home. I miss my friends. I miss us.
And because she says it, her parents hear her. They hold her. They begin to reconnect.
That was the lesson I needed: When we allow ourselves to express sadness, we open the door for others to meet us there.
No Memory Is One Color
There’s this moment where Sadness brings up an old hockey game Riley lost. Everyone groans. “Why do you always remember the sad parts?”
But by the end of the film, they realize something: that same memory, when felt fully, became layered with joy—because expressing the sadness allowed Riley’s team, her family, her community to rally around her.
Had she only expressed anger, or kept everything inside, that moment of connection never would’ve happened.
Letting Sadness Sit at the Console
We live in a culture that tells us to “stay positive,” to “move on,” to “cheer up.” But healing doesn’t happen in the silence. It happens when we’re witnessed. When someone sits beside us and says, I see you. I feel this with you.
Inside Out reminded me of something I’m still learning: our emotions are not problems to solve—they’re messengers. And the more we allow each of them a voice, the more human we become.
So today, maybe let Sadness sit at the console. Let her touch some memories. Let yourself feel what’s been waiting to be felt.
What Color Is That Memory, Really?
Think of a moment you’ve labeled “sad” or “hard.” Look again. Is there warmth hiding in the corners? Is there love in the ache? By the end of the movie, Riley’s memories aren’t just one emotion or another. They’re multi-colored, nuanced.
Let that memory speak in full color. And if you feel moved, share it. Or just sit with it a while longer. Either way—don’t rush to joy. Let every emotion have its say.
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