Feeling My Way Through Life

"All I know is that I exist, and that I feel things"

Those were the words spoken to God that flowed through my tears on an unusually chilly, yet lonely spring night as I lay in my bed, swallowed up by darkness and the loudness of the world's silence. I was trying to go to sleep after a failed attempt to silence the nagging fear in the pit of my gut. I had reached a point of desperation and I was finally verbally acknowledging God again. For a long time, I had stopped talking out loud to God, because I reached a point in which I felt my words were empty. My feelings did not match my words and the prayers felt insincere, almost mechanical. But on this particular night, they found themselves fully aligned again.

"What good are my feelings?" They were wearing me out. What was I feeling about now? Perhaps something said during conversation I had with a guy that I secretly longed to be in a committed relationship with. Or maybe it was the antsy feeling I felt lately each time I talked to him. That antsy feeling was my secret desire to be the center of attention, which he certainly was NOT making me out to be; instead our conversations were centered around him and I wanted to find a way to get off of the phone. I am emotionally sensitive. I don't think I was ever taught how to manage my sensitivity. This is something I've had to discover through experience. I find myself easily rocked by the words of others, good or bad. My attitude toward myself easily colored and imposed upon by how I assume others perceive me, and me pondering how I feel about this. This is the epiphany I came to that night I cried to God. I feel my way through life. I remember people not necessarily by how they look, but by the way their words and overall presence make me feel. I remember movies, songs, political and social events, dates and years not by the specifics of what took place during them, but by my general feelings after I lived through them. "2011 was a good year", not because it was actually a great year, but because my memory recalls good feelings.

I would say over the past three years of my life, I attempted to embody the words of the people who had the greatest influence on me. These would be folks I were connected to though social media; some I knew personally and others I'd ever met. Their words felt like something hard, cold and stern. Like a thick, black line that is drawn on a white piece of paper. Boundaries. Unemotional. Logic. But this was unnatural and opposite of what I am at my core. That night in my bed with my tears was the beginning of a series of steps leading me to the end of denying myself; a small victory in the conflict between my inner being and the outer shell I presented to the world.

I'm so entangled in my feelings that it becomes hard to separate them from who I am. My feelings come from me, but they are not me. Yet they are an extension of me; they are deep, they are passionate, they are strong, and they are like the element of water. Water is complex. It can be refreshing, healing. Or it can be forceful and deadly. Water can usher hidden things to the surface, or it can plunge them deep into the depths. So goes my feelings. So goes me.

I've always wanted someone to understand and appreciate this about me, to be unafraid to ride that wave with me and never leave. But to be fair I now think this expectation is unreasonable, particularly when there are times that I don't even understand myself.

"So what am I going to do about this?" I thought. "How can I utilize my feelings in a productive way?" I still hadn't reached the moment where I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. The start of Year 32 had ushered in a reality that feels harsh and finite so far. A reality that I will not be contained in this physical body forever. I try not to think about this but every now and then when I feel unaccomplished, unproductive, unfulfilled, my subconscious finds a way to remind me. Well, this is what happened that night in bed after the final tear dropped: I emptied out my sadness and it was replaced with annoyance and determination. I was determined to manage my feelings and confront the beliefs about myself that created the practice of trying to anticipate what others thought about me and caring so much about it.

Feelings can clue you in to the opportunity to self-heal, or they can be used to lead yourself down a road fogged with paranoia and gullibility. I choose the former, through courageous and disciplined action.