Emotional rescue
I’m having a hard time seeing the forest through the trees.
Or is that the trees through the forest?
Another session with my therapist on Monday left me emotionally beat-down, physically tired. Feeling pretty good, too.
But it seems like the only time I can feel my emotions – instead of just swallowing them whole – is in Chet’s office.
It happened again on Monday. Sweet release. Tears. Feelings of anger, rage, sadness, grief, remorse, joy. Yo-yo emotions. The roller-coaster of me.
I am angry. I am rage. I am sorrow.
I am joyous.
Sucks to be me.
Because my big, fat brain mucks everything up. I am a problem to solve (when there is no problem; there is no solution). I know this. I still push the emotions down, push them aside, and go on thinking it is the right thing to do.
I catch myself sighing at times. This is good. This means something is going on. I’m just having a hard time putting a finger on the emotion causing the sigh.
What I would like is a workbook, “Emotions for Dummies,” where I could do independent study. I read up on the James-Lange Theory of Emotion, The Cannon-Bard Theory of Emotion. Trying to glean meaning of me from scholars.
I try to pry open my brain for answers, without having to feel the emotions.
I seek knowledge to fix what ails my heart, my id, my ego (studying philosophy now).
Fat fucking chance of that.
I have to challenge my mind to let my emotions go.
It works sometimes (and this is why I end up on occasion in tears in my work bathroom – nothing to see here, move along, move along).
Mostly, it doesn’t work. And I meander through my days in complete confusion.
Trust me when I say over the last few years that I have come to know who I am. I know my faults, my foibles. I know that I have tried to be perfect – and I am flawed. I have accepted that, and am a better person for it.
But I rarely get to the place where I see the good of me. The guy that deserves true, reciprocal love. The guy who doesn’t have to be everything for everybody. The guy who can lean on people – because those people actually care and love me.
That happened on Monday, too. I shed tears of joy, because I am a good guy, one of the really good ones.
It lasted all of about five minutes. Because of where I am at in time. And I walk into the revolving door again, and don’t step out. I keep myself in gut-wrenching rotation.
At least it happened. The tears of joy.
And you have to build on that.
Or is that the trees through the forest?
Another session with my therapist on Monday left me emotionally beat-down, physically tired. Feeling pretty good, too.
But it seems like the only time I can feel my emotions – instead of just swallowing them whole – is in Chet’s office.
It happened again on Monday. Sweet release. Tears. Feelings of anger, rage, sadness, grief, remorse, joy. Yo-yo emotions. The roller-coaster of me.
I am angry. I am rage. I am sorrow.
I am joyous.
Sucks to be me.
Because my big, fat brain mucks everything up. I am a problem to solve (when there is no problem; there is no solution). I know this. I still push the emotions down, push them aside, and go on thinking it is the right thing to do.
I catch myself sighing at times. This is good. This means something is going on. I’m just having a hard time putting a finger on the emotion causing the sigh.
What I would like is a workbook, “Emotions for Dummies,” where I could do independent study. I read up on the James-Lange Theory of Emotion, The Cannon-Bard Theory of Emotion. Trying to glean meaning of me from scholars.
I try to pry open my brain for answers, without having to feel the emotions.
I seek knowledge to fix what ails my heart, my id, my ego (studying philosophy now).
Fat fucking chance of that.
I have to challenge my mind to let my emotions go.
It works sometimes (and this is why I end up on occasion in tears in my work bathroom – nothing to see here, move along, move along).
Mostly, it doesn’t work. And I meander through my days in complete confusion.
Trust me when I say over the last few years that I have come to know who I am. I know my faults, my foibles. I know that I have tried to be perfect – and I am flawed. I have accepted that, and am a better person for it.
But I rarely get to the place where I see the good of me. The guy that deserves true, reciprocal love. The guy who doesn’t have to be everything for everybody. The guy who can lean on people – because those people actually care and love me.
That happened on Monday, too. I shed tears of joy, because I am a good guy, one of the really good ones.
It lasted all of about five minutes. Because of where I am at in time. And I walk into the revolving door again, and don’t step out. I keep myself in gut-wrenching rotation.
At least it happened. The tears of joy.
And you have to build on that.
Comments