Real talk: I’m simply not blessed with the ability to feel lukewarm about anything. The concept of settling for a happy medium is a myth to me: something synonymous with impossible. I’ve never been able to practice moderation. If an emotion suddenly rose and demanded to be felt, you bet I’d feel it with every atom of my being. My highs and lows can far surpass “destructive.” You can count on me to make a mountain out of a molehill.
Sound familiar? Maybe, maybe not, or maybe not exactly. Stay with me.
If you’re anything like me, you’re used to coping with ridiculously high highs and cripplingly low lows. Maybe there’s a diagnosis attached, but there doesn’t necessarily have to be. Maybe you’re just someone who has always braced for the sudden rise and fall, permanently white-knuckling every moment because you just feel too much, always. Empathy, anger, introspection, anxiety; you name it, and the list goes on. The fact of the matter is: I have never been able to let the waves of emotion simply wash over me. I have always felt the compulsion to absorb it, internalize it, and eventually become one with it. For a long time, I claimed this was my most unforgivable flaw.
When I was younger, this reality made me curse my brain and everything I was. For the life of me, I couldn’t not sweat the small stuff, which was incredibly demoralizing. Everything commanded an extreme reaction, usually blown out of proportion. I couldn’t help it; melodrama, a breakdown waiting to happen, a friendship inevitably shattering over something ridiculously insignificant. I couldn’t just feel “eh, what gives!” about anything. My mind forced me toward impulsive haircuts (terrible incidents with homemade bangs cut with safety scissors!), countless boxes of bright red hair dye I’d later come to regret, or even 68 angsty poems about the first boy who dared to break my heart. 68–I’m not even exaggerating. I could’ve just decided to learn from it, had I not been born with this magnitude of passion, this intensity of being.
But I was. And nothing can change that.
I’m 20 now. I’ve since realized there’s no quick-fix. Quite frankly, I’m sick of trying to find one.
This is acceptance. This is the beginning of an era of embracing. It dawned on me recently that I’ve been here for two decades, yet I still can’t come to complete terms with the precise “why’s” of myself. Like, why is it so hard for me to not become paralyzed by my senses? Why am I so affected by everything which others can so easily let go of?
I do not have the answers yet, nor am I in a rush to reach them. This is me introducing myself as someone who wants to learn how to celebrate herself in all of her ridiculous, blood-and-thunder glory. Sure, I am messy beyond belief. I am dramatic, fluctuating, volatile, and frequently overcome by everything I cannot shake. Sorrow, joy, love… all of this consumes me whole. In a strange and newfound way, though, I am learning to love my brain for the gifts it brings me.
I can only consider myself a poet, an artist, and a creator because of my ability to feel. Emotion doesn’t always incapacitate me; sometimes it is the sole reason I am able to make art that moves, stands for itself, and sometimes even inspires. I’ve learned invaluable lessons from the nights I spent sobbing on the bathroom floor like the protagonist of an awful indie film. Emotion allows me to be sentient enough for others in need, armed naturally with the empathy necessary to listen and be a quality friend. Emotion allows me to love hard: presently, intentionally, wholly. I can’t love without purpose. I can only pursue it with my entire soul.
I can’t hate the thing that burns me up from within anymore. More and more, I realize that this is vital to my identity, this fervor for life and everything it holds.
Because of my fire, everything is given meaning.
Because of my fire, I am bold enough to love and be loved.
Because of my fire, I am me. I live this beautiful life in vivid color, full volume, unapologetically and by definition: my own.
That will never be anything but a blessing. I understand it now. I was born to live aflame, and you, dear friend, were too.
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