The Forgotten Feeling: For We Meet Again!

It’s interesting the string of events that follow after allowing yourself to feel into a lifelong suppressed emotion. For me, anger is an unfamiliar feeling. Sort of like that distant relative that the family collectively shuns. Explaining to little kid you that your cousin Anger hit his mom in the face during a nervous breakdown a few years back so, we keep our distance. Little did they know that Anger was my untold penpal. No one knew about this secret exchange but me. It felt safer to keep my connection to the shameful feeling on the downlow out of fear that any highlight on the situation would give family an opportunity to see the undeniable comparisons I hold with this ignoble relative. 

As I continue down this path towards legitimate layers deep healing, two cohesive emotions spark aliveness in my body; anger and grief. I feel anger for all of the shit young me had to go through with no one seemingly in my corner to justify the pain I felt. Instead I was told that I’m too emotional and my responses to my experiences were uncalled for. As my developing brain was experiencing the world for the first time, I took what I was told and internalized the idea that there must be something wrong with me. Here I began to build thick concrete walls between me and the rest of the world as an attempt to protect me from them and them from me. Emotional isolation apparently the only solution to this lamentable quandary. Intense grief comes up for me, too, as I recognize all of the times where I did not let myself feel into the anger that naturally presented itself to me. Quickly shoving it down and holding my breath until it slipped into the internal locked box I created that I wasn’t aware I’d have to deal with eventually. 

I’m a bit heartbroken for the messages young me was sent time and time again. I’m heartbroken that this isn’t a unique experience and that there isn’t necessarily anyone to blame for this unfairness. Becoming an observer rather than an active participant in life has allowed me to understand that suppression is what the world runs on these days. Simply a coping mechanism we have collectively developed in response to the mechanic world humanity has developed towards. There is so much pain that we feel due to the way we live now. Maneuvering in a world none of our primal instincts can accurately recognize anymore. Our nervous systems are constantly on guard, triggering a survival response to unnatural things such as; screens, staying indoors for hours and hours a day, a lingering feeling of loneliness as we lack community to support us through an already hard life, etc. The human world I am surrounded with survives on control and conquering, because showing weakness and vulnerability has only proven to be a wounding and unproductive experience. We are all just trying to get through each day, in whatever distorted way we have found does the trick.

This undeniable observation I have witnessed in every human interaction I’ve laid eyes on has been enough of an excuse for me to dismiss the harmful actions that have caused lasting lacerations within me. Since I not only see, but feel deep in my bones the pain people are carrying with them every single day, I decided at a young age that I can be the one person that gives them a damn break. Hell, I knew I wished someone would give me one. I know these people are reacting from a painful place, afterall. Maybe my forgiveness and my understanding can reverse the spell of ignorant interaction and wake the human being living deep within the layers of subdued emotional awareness. The aftermath of this self proclaimed heroic act was riddled with blurry boundaries. Compassion casting the most relevant vote in the debate on who to save first, myself or yet another seemingly suffering soul. 22 years later and I see why that choice isn’t very sustainable.

“…I could be held back just by being needed. Please try not to need me. That’s the worst bait of all to a lonely man.”

John Steinbeck in East of Eden

Now I’m left angry and grieving…and I have no one else to blame but me for the pain. All I can help but do is make strides towards change. To feel empowered and justified by my choice to put me first, even if someone else could use my spineless presentation for their own comfort. The thing is, life doesn’t hold still for healing. The clocks don’t stop ticking and expectations continuously develop, leaving me the ambitious feat of balancing a game of catch up with real time cycle breaking. As I grasp the areas of my life in which I am holding myself back, life throws me new opportunities for change. “How about this situation?! You gonna stick to your faulty habits of coping, or are you going to choose a more uncomfortable route leading you towards freedom?” I am learning to have patience with this process and celebrating the oh so tiny steps towards sustainable change. If I think about where I was at when I was freshly 18 and compare it to where I’m at now, I know that all of those tiny steps eventually add up to ginormous leaps and I couldn’t be where I’m at today without each and every contribution. 

With love,

KN