Sometimes...

Sometimes, I really want to connect to how I’m feeling, but I’m not feeling anything. I just feel vague or unclear about my emotional state. It’s like I’m reaching into a bag to pull something out, but my hand fell asleep, and I can’t make out what I’m touching or even if I’m touching anything at all. It’s sometimes, for me, that just simply feeling anything is a game I have to play at and pretend, but I’m not very good nor very convincing at it (least of all to myself). For a person who is so intrigued by emotions, how do I become so cut off from them? Am I cut off from them, or is something else going on with me?

Sometimes, I think I should have more enthusiasm, more motivation, more… something, but I don’t. I, sometimes, get the impression that there is a dark cloud hovering over my inner self, threatening unsavory dangerous weather, and it’s better to just stay locked away. It’s like there is a block between me and me. Sometimes, I feel cut off from accessing those parts of me that have opinions, that have feelings, that have “drive”; those parts that make decisions and get me going. Am I feeling resigned? Do I feel so indifferent, at times, that I have just become completely disconnected from my wants and desires? How can my mood sink to such a low that the simplest of actions feels like the most daunting of tasks?  How do I tap back into that source of life that turns a “sure, whatever…” to a “100% Yes! Let’s go!” or even an “Absolutely not! Hell no!”  Do I even have to? Should I?

Maybe I feel lost. In the past decade or so, I have gone through so many different life changes. I think they were rather big ones too, relatively speaking, and maybe my lack of “access” to my inner authentic self is the result of losing my way to it, so to speak. Maybe feeling lost comes with feeling numb, for me. Perhaps this lost connection has gotten to be so much because I’m actually afraid of the next big, terrible thing to happen. Maybe, I feel lost because I don’t know what is coming around the corner next, and more importantly, I don’t know if I’ll have what it takes to deal with it this time around. Very often, I find myself being out of resources and out of answers. It can be exhausting. Maybe being lost, afraid, and exhausted isn’t something that needs to be changed but, rather, respected.

The unpleasant or uncomfortable moments in life can be hard to manage, hard to live, and, sometimes, impossible to even bear. We can get worked up when they happen to us or even around us. I know I do. Maybe that’s why I tend to dissociate because it’s somehow better to not feel anything (or, at least, to feel less). It’s like I’ve developed some sort of allergy to the heavier or, dare I say, more negative emotional experiences. Feeling lost, afraid and exhausted, I must admit do not come alone… Nope! They come boxed up in anxieties, worries, helpless and hopeless thoughts. They are delivered neatly wrapped in insecurities and emotional complexes at no extra charge. And they, my friends, are gifts that keep on giving. The thing that makes them a never-ending gift is when we try to stop them. When I try to stop being afraid or sad or exhausted, I can’t. Which gets interpreted as, “There must be something wrong with me.” Which turns into, “I’m now worried about there being something wrong with me.” This sets off a whole cascade of insecurities and inferiority complexes, which, in turn, make me feel like it’s hopeless. And on it goes… In fact, every time I have tried to suppress an emotion, ignore an emotion, distract it, replace it, hide it, whatever… every time, it came back in spades. I know I’m not alone in this.

For whatever reason (call it upbringing, environment, society, culture, or even evolution), we squirm to get away from  the unpleasantness of life. Some dissociate, some shelter, some even chase after more, but regardless of the response, we seldomly just let it be. For me, it feels like how I imagine drowning would feel. I get a sense of these all-consuming emotions surrounding me to the point of becoming fully submerged, followed by a frantic and desperate fight to pull myself out. It takes my breath away. I can feel it exhausting my body and my mind. It’s everywhere and nowhere. It grips and squeezes. It suffocates. It subdues the strongest parts of me and charms the weakest. And then… I disconnect. Unfazed. Withdrawn. Apathetic. “Sure, whatever…” A learned defense mechanism that has become an unwanted automatic response. Some see it as a sign of resilience. I can tell you, it feels more like resignation.

I have worked hard to break this response pattern. I am still working hard on it. It is becoming a practice for me to dig in when the “flood” comes and to just let it wash over me. It’s uncomfortable, for sure, but it’s better described as downright terrifying. I still feel submerged. I still have the urge to frantically pull myself out, but that frantic, exhausting battle has never led to anything but beaten-down emptiness. I still feel like I’m being squeezed. But I’ve learned to be calm in the discomfort, or rather to soften into it. The panic of needing to get out of it has slowly, over time, been soothed by the wisdom of knowing that this is just a moment. It will pass (probably). I haven’t completely mastered the concept of finding comfort in the discomfort, of letting the flood submerge me and breathe underwater. I have succeeded in coming out the other side with less of a fight. I have learned to give into the emotional experience, but this is different than resignation. It’s more like, embracing it.

Embrace the bad, the hard, the difficult. Embrace being lost, scared and exhausted. No matter how much I don’t want it, it is part of my journey. But it is, still, just a part. And no matter how much I may want to avoid it, or get away from it; no matter how much I wish I could escape drowning completely in my fears, shames, losses, angers… they are a part of me. They are an important part of who I am because they are signs that my limits, my boundaries, are not being respected; that I am not being respected.

Disconnecting from it, hiding from it or trying to inflict more doesn’t help us respect our limits. None of those behaviors keep us safe. Instead, it renders our very useful alert systems to be ineffectual. Sometimes, no matter how hard it might be, it is important to sit with those negative emotions and let them be. Let them wash over you. Don’t judge. Don’t interpret. Don’t fix. Just let them be. They have wisdom to leave behind in their wake, if we leave space for it. Sometimes, the best way to find our way is to let ourselves be lost a bit. Sometimes, the best way to be brave is to let the fear set it. Sometimes, the way to recover is to allow ourselves to be exhausted. Healing happens when we let it… sometimes.