I love being emotional.
I understand that this might be a bizarre thing to say, but it’s true. I love having feelings. I love thinking about what I’m feeling and trying to figure out why I’m feeling it. Boyfriend knows this well about me. I’m always asking him, “What are you feeling? What are you thinking? What are you thinking about what you’re feeling? TELL ME.”
And his response? Usually a blank stare while he chews his first bite of cereal in the morning.
Yup. I wake up like this, people. I wake up ready to talk about my emotions and I’m willing to have that conversation all day long.
This even goes for sad feelings. My sister and I will intentionally watch movies that make us cry. We call it “emotional yoga.” Both her husband and my boyfriend are baffled by this voluntary self-destruction, but we will defend it until the day we die, because sometimes feeling sad and crying feels just so good.
But this has its drawbacks. Especially when you fall in love with someone who thinks that having feelings is a weird thing and that talking about them openly is even weirder… Boyfriend isn’t exactly the most vulnerable or verbal person I’ve ever met. It’s not like he’s an emotionless robot or anything. He has feelings, but getting him to talk about them is like getting my dog to puke in the toilet: Impossible and irritating, especially because I have no problem accomplishing it myself.*
Maybe this all just means that I’m a little bit more broken than he is and therefore I require a lot of analysis.
Some people would argue that I think too much and that I have a tendency to spiral inward or something like that, but I think that my constant emotional analysis is helping me grow.
I just think that if we’re ever going to grow as people, we must look inward, right? If I stop looking at myself and wondering why I am the way that I am, how am I ever going to be better? Just like most people, there are things about myself that I don’t love. There are things about myself that I wish were different. If I don’t stop and check in on those things, I worry that I’ll wake up one day and realize that I’m just the same as I’ve always been and that I haven’t done anything about it… and then I’ll just be a basket-case.
I’m not saying that I strive to be perfect. I know that that is an impossible goal, but I can always be striving to be better, right? And I think that allowing myself to feel things to the fullest extent and then to figure out why I’m feeling that sensation of anger or sadness or unadulterated joy will only lead to me being able to catch myself when I feel negativity rising up and redirecting it towards feelings of positivity and love.
All of this self-analysis has helped me to come up with little systems. When I feel a panic attack rising up, I’ve started to learn what I need to do so that I don’t start yelling at someone who doesn’t deserve it. I know to excuse myself from the room and go be alone for a few minutes when it gets really bad. When I start getting frustrated with someone, I’ve learned to remember that the only behavior I can alter is my own, and that has helped me to react in a more productive way.
All of this said, I’m still really working on it and I always will be. I’ll always be working on myself. I’ll probably always have panic attacks and I’ll probably still get annoyed with other people and wish they would be different. But I’m working on it. I’m working on learning that Boyfriend’s way of expressing himself is different from mine and that both ways are okay. And I’m working on remembering that my dog is a not people, no matter how much we both think he is, and that he cannot be trained to run to the bathroom and puke in a toilet. It’s simply not in his nature.
So what are you feeling? What are you thinking? What are you thinking about what you’re feeling?
*I just realized that this is the second post in a row in which I talk about my dog’s/my own puking habits. It should be noted that neither one of us throws up that often. I swear.