thoughts + mental ramblings, part two:
Feelings. Mmm, my favourite. They can be crippling and freeing– both within seconds of each other. It fascinates me, really: how powerful our emotions are should we allow ourselves to be controlled by them and let them have the final say.
Life, circumstances and, really, every day teaches me new things about the world and its people in it. It’s a beautiful thing to feel so deeply. To have the highs and lows. To conquer a depression so weighty you thought you wouldn’t live through it. To see the stitched-together scars inking your story in redemptive tones. To understand that everything was necessary to point the compass to where your feet find home.
And that, right here, you are enough.
And this is God’s best for you, now.
I’ve learned how to live in moments, one after another. When it comes to feelings, fruit and danger though, I’d like to untangle some of my jumbled thoughts here. So bear with me, friend.
Something Leo has pointed out on numerous occasions is my ability to see a story from all angles. But not only to shift my perspective, like an omnipresent narrator, but to fully embrace the feelings involved. Simply being objective or taking on the second person pov isn’t my piece of pie. I dive fully into the first person character, naive and believing the best in others.
Maybe it’s because I believe everyone is an ocean, each different and so much deeper than the shallow, superficial scratches people tend to talk about. Entering someone’s own personal ocean entails fully submerging yourself, and that includes the possible emotions that might flood your way.
You absorb them, and they become your own. Yeah, it’s confusing to me too.
I’m not sharing this as a boast to boost myself in the holier-than-thou books or make myself sound like a spiritual guru. Far from it. All I know is I tend to feel emotions all at once and then process them as time goes on.
Stories become real to me. People become dear to me.
And I walk around holding remnants of peoples’ hearts in my sleeve, and I leave pieces of them everywhere I go. It’s uncanny, but I think it’s true. It sounds poetic and endearing, but I think it can quickly become unhealthy and dangerous if I’m not careful.
Because if I let my feelings rule, I can be bleeding others’ tears and bad-blood that was never ‘bad’ at all. Maybe somewhere along the way, instead of simply defining the claw-shaped smears as violent or ridiculous, we might stop to see it differently, deeper: someone broke.
The organ that held life-pumped, rhythm-echoing arteries tore a bit. Maybe it was a paper cut, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. We get squeamish and we gag at bloody fingers and bruised knees, but we forget that something had to break– someone’s heart got busted– in the process.
So I try to live with this awareness.
I try to love people the way I would want to be loved.
I believe in starting over.
I believe in healthy relationships and sharing feelings.
Feeling with others is a beautiful process. It can weigh heavy, yeah, but when done right and with the right people surrounding you, it’s always worth it.
What do you think?