I have always worn my heart on my sleeve.
This is not a quality that I have had intrinsic awareness of. In truth, I became most conscious of this quality because of the criticism that often came along with it.
“You’re too sensitive.”
“You’re too much.”
“You need to learn how to care less.”
My awakening to my sensitivity came through the lens of shame. It seemed that my emotional transparency was a burden to those around me, and was perceived as a weakness of my character. So, like any injured animal looking to survive, I did my best to hide it.
I became the calm, cool, collected, “has her shit together” girl. Instead of getting anxious or sad, I got mad – and saw my outward aggression as a sign of success that I had become tough enough to handle the shit that life would throw at me.
When hard things happened, instead of leaning in and moving through, I disengaged and disconnected from myself. After years and years of doing that, I lost myself entirely.
A couple of years ago, I went through a loss that was impossible to disconnect from. It permeated my entire world view. My unwillingness to feel negative emotions left me feeling empty instead. It was as if my emotions knew that my body was an unhospitable environment, and so instead I was left with a bottomless void.
For two years I starved my Soul of nourishment and felt the aching hunger that is the natural consequence of deprivation. Thank the Creator that the Soul is made of energy and follows the Law of Conservation – it cannot be created nor destroyed.
Emotions are the essential nutrients of the Soul. They are required for spiritual growth and establishment. They are both the indicators of dysfunction and the medicine necessary for healing.
If malnourished, the Soul becomes desperate – emoting whatever emotions are not actively suppressed or transcending the conscious effort to suppress them. And my soul did exactly that.
The first emotion that infiltrated my defences was Anger. It was the safest and left me armoured to outside attack. While it often hurt the ones I loved, it hurt myself the most. And I was happy to bear the wounds of self-betrayal if it meant ultimate survival in a cruel world.
The second emotion that I felt was Shame. Largely, as a result of the pain I inflicted on others through my anger. This was not an emotion that I displayed publicly, but instead reflected upon myself as if I was permanently positioned in front of a mirror.
The third emotion that I felt was grief. Due to both the repression of my substantial loss and the loss of myself. This one felt as if it might destroy me, or – at the very least – rip me in two.
And yet, I was still overwhelmed with my fourth emotion – gratitude — that the pain had relieved me from the numbness I had accepted was all life had to offer.
The rest of them (my emotions) came all at once, like a wave rushing through an opened floodgate.
The current was destabilizing, and at times I worried I would be swept away by the undertow and drowned by the heaviness of all of it.
I feel that I’ve learned to ride the waves. But to be honest, I still wear my friends like water wings as reassurance that I will always be able to get a breath of fresh air.
Although my emotionality once brought me shame, now it brings me connection. Where once I saw weakness, I now see wisdom.
I am not naïve for feeling, but instead, I am guided. My emotions are my biggest teachers, and they show me where I am meant to be, and what is not meant for me.
I have danced, I have laughed, I have yelled, and I have cried every emotion through my body to its fullest expression.
I will celebrate with you in the thralls of your ecstasy because I have allowed myself to feel the intoxication of joy – and welcome any opportunity to feel it again.
I will sit with you in the depths of your despair, for I have been there, and I am not as afraid of darkness as I am of the thought of you feeling alone in it.
And while my reflex is still to suppress what I feel, I commit to wearing my heart on my sleeve. So, at the very least – your heart might feel seen, too.