Brenda There are days when I wake up raring to go, filled with plans and ready to put them into action. And then there are days, like today when I feel like I’m out of gas. Those days never happen when I have all my work done and all the time in the world to relax. It’s always when I have a list of things I want to accomplish. Now, none of them got done.
Days like this can make me feel overwhelmed and useless. I know this isn’t true. The emotions I have right now are just that—emotions. They aren’t a valid picture of my life—only a snippet of time.
When I was younger and still reeling from my childhood, I struggled with emotions. In my young mind, they were terrible and to be avoided at any cost. The fact that I was and am an emotional, even sensitive person meant I had to fight myself constantly. That doesn’t make for excellent mental health or self-esteem.
After my ex-husband left in 2018, I took an emotional literacy course. It was only after asking myself what I was feeling at that moment and realizing I had absolutely no idea how to name it that I understood my need for help. The course not only gave me an understanding of my own emotions, it gave me permission to feel them.
Now that I’m not afraid of my emotions, they’ve gotten a lot bolder. They don’t hold back until I’m in a safe place or my family has headed to their bomb shelters. They come out wherever and whenever. Being a responsible adult means I don’t allow them free reign. But I sure feel them in all their undesirable glory.
Writing has literally saved my life. And probably my husband’s life. I’m an introvert. I’m an empath. That means I don’t talk about myself a lot; I listen to others talk about themselves, and I understand. It’s hard for me to share. I came from an abusive home where I wasn’t allowed to have my own opinions, expressions, or feelings. It created in me a sense of not deserving to exist, which I have had to battle my entire life.
When I write, I talk about me. It might not be the depth of what I’m feeling, but it comes out in a trickle, then a flood. The flood washes me clean and allows my rational mind to take over and say, “Yes, you are allowed to feel however you feel. You have the right to exist and to thrive.”
My emotions come from my weakest self, and I don’t understand why. I’m not a psychologist, but they often seem to highlight every insecurity or fault or cause me to blame others because I can’t take on any more of the blame. I’ve always had to be responsible for others—being the oldest of four girls. I struggle with that responsibility to this day. I’m learning to be responsible for only the things I should, not for what others feel.
How do I manage being responsible for what I feel? The bottom line is I’m not. Those emotions come from a place deep within that was formed without my permission. I didn’t allow my mother to dismiss my right to exist. She made that choice. But her choice created these emotions that I now have to live with every day.
When I understood today that I had nothing left in the tank, I didn’t know that all of this waited under the surface. This is precisely what I meant by writing saving my life. Often, it isn’t until I begin writing that I understand more of myself, more of my pain, and what has been healed.
The course and much healing have given me back some autonomy over my emotions. I’m healed enough to understand that what I’m feeling isn’t necessarily related to anything or anyone around me at the moment. My emotions are often the result of many little moments piled on top of each other like a Jenga tower. Pull out the wrong block, and it all comes crashing down.
On days like this, it’s okay to be quiet. To let the list flutter to the floor and be still. The world isn’t going to end because I didn’t check off my to-do list. Today is a day of reflection, taking a nap, or reading a good book. When you run out of gas in your car, it’s not going to keep going from sheer will. Neither should we. When the gas is gone, we need to head to the service station and fill back up.
Moments like these are what fill me back up. Allowing myself to do what my mother didn’t puts me in charge. This is my life now. The emotions from the past aren’t in charge. I have to acknowledge them, but I don’t have to let them into the driver’s seat. If I ignore them, they might try to hijack the car, so I can’t do that either, as I’ve learned the hard way.
It’s about balance. Taking time out when it’s needed will keep the motor running and allow healing without blowing up everything around me.
