Rarely have I understood my large emotions.
They seem so incredibly big at times. Larger than life. More immense than I can handle. And certainly too extreme for my brain to contain. And sometimes, I truly don’t understand why I have been made to feel so deeply.
The first time I became aware and afraid of my ability to feel was in elementary school. I would hide from my parents as they tried to coax me into the car. Screaming, kicking, and crying, I was terrified of leaving my house and being away from my mother and father. I often experienced an overwhelming sense of doom as I left for school. Once at school, I would run away from my teachers, and my dad would have to carry me back. Every night for about 6 months, I would refuse to sleep. It sounds incredibly stupid, but in my mind, I believed that sleep would prevent me from feeling love or feeling comfortable in my surroundings. I was unstable. I couldn’t stop myself from experiencing these things, and my parents had to deal with me constantly breaking down.
Eventually, after seeing a child psychologist, it came out that I had severe separation anxiety. But labeling the issue didn’t make it better.
As a growing teen and young adult, my fear of being separated from what I love still follows me. I’ve cried almost every year on the night before the first day of school; the feeling of despair creeps in despite the fact that I can’t wait to see my friends and learn. Sometimes, this lingering feeling manifests itself as anxiety when leaving physical spaces. After flying home from Barcelona this summer, I broke down crying because I missed being near the ocean again and had a deep, dwelling fear that I couldn’t be near what I needed, living in a landlocked state.
Frequently, I will avoid being alone with my emotions. For almost two years, I would consistently have The Office playing in the background of whatever I was doing. I wouldn’t watch the show; I just listened to the voices of the characters to help block out the sounds in my head. I couldn’t handle my feelings.
My therapist once told me to just be present with my feelings. Many times, I can’t do that, mostly because I just don’t know how. I tend to keep myself extremely busy to avoid processing parts of my life that feel unmanageable. It used to be unhealthy; now I sit with my thoughts when I can and know when to lock them away to be explored some other time again. I’m embarrassed, sometimes, that I can’t seem to control my emotions from escaping when it’s inconvenient. If I’m crying in public, I still feel a little bit of shame.
I don’t know why I feel so deeply. I’ve cried until my chest hurts, but I’ve also laughed until tears stream down my cheeks. I’ve been so angry, so filled with hatred at someone who wronged me, but I’ve been overcome by compassion for strangers I’ve never needed to care about.
Despite my incredible ability to feel, or maybe because of it, I am the person I want to be. I deal with most of my emotions separately, compartmentalizing my life to make it easier on the people in it. This isn’t to say I shy away from talking to people about the things that bother me or matter to me; I just find that combing through my brain first before verbalizing my mindset orally is best. I spend a lot of time in my head. I’ve come to appreciate it in there.
This past summer, I became very skilled at sorting through my emotions, as there was a lot of change happening in my life. I felt emotionally vulnerable for most of the experiences I put myself through, but ultimately, it made me realize how precious my feelings are.
At one point this summer, my sister and I were sitting on our couch in Warsaw, watching Jojo Rabbit for about the millionth time. At the very end of the movie, there is a quote by Rainer Maria Rilke, an Austrian poet and writer, from his poem “Go to the Limits of Your Longing”. The quote is as follows:
“Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going.
No feeling is final.”
I keep letting everything happen to me. I throw myself into life, knowing that my mind may warp it in all sorts of horrible and wonderful ways. I bury myself in my mind, understanding why I feel and trying to appreciate that I feel so much. My life has been defined by my feelings, and I’m starting to become at peace with that fact. Perhaps I’m no further from where I began. Perhaps I’ve come a long way. Either way, I continue to experience and to feel, and that’s just who I am.