In today’s society, there is this notion that if you are overly emotional, you are weak. If you show anything less than a stoic and unwavering façade in the face of pain or tragedy, there’s something wrong with you. You are more valued if you have a cutthroat and unrelenting personality than if you are kind.
This is bullshit.
One of the things that makes us unique as humans is our ability to feel. Yes, sometimes our emotions can get the better of us, but when we learn to embrace and recognize our emotions, they don’t become so overwhelming.
In the last few years, I have done a lot of soul searching and self-reflection. Some of the things I’ve learned about myself is that I’m an INFJ and a highly sensitive person. People hurt my feelings. The world affects me on deep levels.
For the longest time, through the words and actions of others, I was taught that my feelings weren’t valid. I couldn’t express my true feelings or thoughts. If I did, there was something wrong with me. I was crazy or overreacting. I learned to keep things bottled up. I kept my mouth shut.
Pushing feelings deep down inside and pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make them go away. In fact, all this does is create a time bomb. At some point in time, those feelings are going to explode out of you. From experience, I know that it doesn’t happen at the most opportune moments. And it’s usually not directed at the people it needs to be directed at.
In addition, unexpressed emotions can turn into depression and anxiety. Living with these is much more challenging and debilitating than taking a few moments to cry or be pissed or laugh hysterically. These take a much larger toll on your physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.
I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel. I’m over hiding my emotions. Yes, I’m highly sensitive and I can get upset easily. But you know what? I’m entitled to my feelings. There’s nothing wrong with me for having those emotions. More often than not, I will be upset, sad, or angry for a while, and then I’ll let it go. And this is a healthier way to deal with these problems.
I’m also done with people who tell me I can’t feel my feels. If they get upset or angry because I’m crying or have hurt feelings and they lash out at me, that says more about them than it does about me. I have no desire to be around people like that anymore.
I’ve encountered them through all stages of my life and in various places, including the workplace. They are exhausting and frustrating and hard to be around. More than likely, they have denied themselves their feelings, and they have no other outlet for their emotions. They are trying to maintain their stoic and unemotional façade. They are trying to keep from blowing up.
They won’t succeed. It takes a lot of energy to keep things pushed down and hidden away. Something will give, and it won’t be at an opportune moment. They may be able to refrain for months or even years, but they’ll eventually crack.
Every emotion is valid. Every feeling deserves to be recognized. Nothing in this world lasts forever, and sadness, anger, happiness, and all the others come and go. Life is too short to not feel what you need to feel. I’m trying to live my life like that every day. If people think that makes me weak, that’s fine. You’re not my people.
I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. I am highly sensitive. I am overly emotional. I cry at movies, TV shows, and sometimes commercials. I get angry with my friends and others when they are disrespectful and rude. In time, I get over it. I move on. These are all the things that make me, me. I’m not going to deny who I am anymore. And I don’t need anyone’s approval to do that.
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
I Lost My Mom When My Grandma Died
On Good Friday of this year, my grandma died. She was in her 90s and it was expected, but it was still hard. She had been in hospice care, and my mom and my aunt were there by her side until the end. My dad, brother, and I headed out that weekend for support and the funeral.
I can’t imagine how hard it was for my mom to deal with that. Knowing that the end was coming but having no idea when. How much stress was she under thinking that every breath my grandma took could be her last? How many questions and doubts ran through her mind? How often did she wonder if they had made the right choice? How much guilt coursed through her thinking that there was something more they could do but weren’t doing it?
Not only is that type of situation emotional, it’s traumatic. It’s something that stays with you for a long time. Having to make those decisions and going through the heartache and pain day in and day is life changing.
Before my grandma went into hospice, I had been facing some of my own challenges. I would talk to my mom every day, sometimes multiple times a day, looking for support, advice, and empathy. She was always there to provide.
When she headed back to be with my grandma, I reduced my contact. I didn’t cut it off completely; I sent her inspirational quotes and let her know that I was there if she needed anything. I stopped talking about my problems. The last thing she needed was that on top of everything else.
It was at the moment that I realized I had been depending on my mom too much. Part of me wanted—and hoped—that she would do or say something that would make all of my troubles and issues go away. It was unfair to expect that of her—and unrealistic. I realized then that I had to figure things out on my own. I had to learn to depend on myself.
Coming to this realization was difficult. It didn’t mean I had to cut my mom out of my life completely, and it certainly didn’t negate all of the wonderful things she had done for me. But it changed her role, how I viewed her. I knew I could still talk to her and that she would still support me, but it changed how I depended on her. That was my decision. One I came to on my own. I never said a word to her.
When I went back to be with my family for the funeral, emotions were high. There was sadness, but there was also joy. Pain, but also relief. If you’ve ever experienced a death, you know that all emotions often get mixed into the moment.
I had a hard time dealing with it. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I had no idea how to support my mom or be there for her. I felt out of place. That’s a strange thing to feel around your own family, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I did what I could, but I never felt like my actions were right or enough. I was trying to find my place after the decision I had made and working through the issues that had existed before and never went away.
A few months after the funeral, things changed again. My life spiraled further into despair. I was back to texting and talking to my mom pretty much every day. Then, she had to deal with more tragedy. So, once again, I reduced my contact and refrained from heaping my issues on top of hers.
My mom and I have always had a good relationship. She has always been my support, my inspiration, my idol. She is an absolutely amazing woman, and she has always been so strong. It was hard for me to see her hurting. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. I did what I could, but it never felt like it was enough.
Again, on top of all of that, I was dealing with my own trauma. Not having my mom be there like she had always been in the past was hard for me to handle. It left me feeling alone and isolated. I felt abandoned.
As unfair and awful as that sounds, I can’t deny my feelings. It made me angry—both at her and at the universe. I did the only thing I could: I withdrew into myself. I cut everyone off, including my mom. I shut out the world.
When my grandma died, I lost my mom. I lost her to tragedy, grief, and stress—both hers and my own. All of those things have changed me, and they have changed her.
I don’t think either of us know how to be there for each other right now. There are hurt feelings on both sides, and we are reeling from loss.
It’s hard to lose your mom. Mine is still around physically, but there has been an emotional disconnect.
It’s probably unfair for me to be upset and angry, but I don’t know how to let it go. She is also entitled to have those feelings, and to feel lonely, isolated, and abandoned. If she feels these things, I don’t know. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.
Logically, I understand how terrible it is for me to feel the way I do. But at the same time, dealing with change is hard. No one is going to come out of this loss being the same person they were before. How do you negotiate that?
I want to get to know my new mom once things have calmed down. I’m sure that we can once again have a relationship and talk. But that is going to take time—for both of us.
I can’t imagine how hard it was for my mom to deal with that. Knowing that the end was coming but having no idea when. How much stress was she under thinking that every breath my grandma took could be her last? How many questions and doubts ran through her mind? How often did she wonder if they had made the right choice? How much guilt coursed through her thinking that there was something more they could do but weren’t doing it?
Not only is that type of situation emotional, it’s traumatic. It’s something that stays with you for a long time. Having to make those decisions and going through the heartache and pain day in and day is life changing.
Before my grandma went into hospice, I had been facing some of my own challenges. I would talk to my mom every day, sometimes multiple times a day, looking for support, advice, and empathy. She was always there to provide.
When she headed back to be with my grandma, I reduced my contact. I didn’t cut it off completely; I sent her inspirational quotes and let her know that I was there if she needed anything. I stopped talking about my problems. The last thing she needed was that on top of everything else.
It was at the moment that I realized I had been depending on my mom too much. Part of me wanted—and hoped—that she would do or say something that would make all of my troubles and issues go away. It was unfair to expect that of her—and unrealistic. I realized then that I had to figure things out on my own. I had to learn to depend on myself.
Coming to this realization was difficult. It didn’t mean I had to cut my mom out of my life completely, and it certainly didn’t negate all of the wonderful things she had done for me. But it changed her role, how I viewed her. I knew I could still talk to her and that she would still support me, but it changed how I depended on her. That was my decision. One I came to on my own. I never said a word to her.
When I went back to be with my family for the funeral, emotions were high. There was sadness, but there was also joy. Pain, but also relief. If you’ve ever experienced a death, you know that all emotions often get mixed into the moment.
I had a hard time dealing with it. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I had no idea how to support my mom or be there for her. I felt out of place. That’s a strange thing to feel around your own family, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I did what I could, but I never felt like my actions were right or enough. I was trying to find my place after the decision I had made and working through the issues that had existed before and never went away.
A few months after the funeral, things changed again. My life spiraled further into despair. I was back to texting and talking to my mom pretty much every day. Then, she had to deal with more tragedy. So, once again, I reduced my contact and refrained from heaping my issues on top of hers.
My mom and I have always had a good relationship. She has always been my support, my inspiration, my idol. She is an absolutely amazing woman, and she has always been so strong. It was hard for me to see her hurting. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. I did what I could, but it never felt like it was enough.
Again, on top of all of that, I was dealing with my own trauma. Not having my mom be there like she had always been in the past was hard for me to handle. It left me feeling alone and isolated. I felt abandoned.
As unfair and awful as that sounds, I can’t deny my feelings. It made me angry—both at her and at the universe. I did the only thing I could: I withdrew into myself. I cut everyone off, including my mom. I shut out the world.
When my grandma died, I lost my mom. I lost her to tragedy, grief, and stress—both hers and my own. All of those things have changed me, and they have changed her.
I don’t think either of us know how to be there for each other right now. There are hurt feelings on both sides, and we are reeling from loss.
It’s hard to lose your mom. Mine is still around physically, but there has been an emotional disconnect.
It’s probably unfair for me to be upset and angry, but I don’t know how to let it go. She is also entitled to have those feelings, and to feel lonely, isolated, and abandoned. If she feels these things, I don’t know. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.
Logically, I understand how terrible it is for me to feel the way I do. But at the same time, dealing with change is hard. No one is going to come out of this loss being the same person they were before. How do you negotiate that?
I want to get to know my new mom once things have calmed down. I’m sure that we can once again have a relationship and talk. But that is going to take time—for both of us.
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