Feelings. Sure, I claim that I don’t have any, or that I have just one left. However, they are there. For me, I stuff my emotions deep down inside and rarely let them out. I’ve built up my walls so high to keep everyone out that the only way I can keep from exploding is through writing (unless I have writer’s block.. then it’s all downhill from there).
Unfortunately for a lot of us in life, we get hurt after sharing what’s inside of us with others. So walls get built, and walls get reinforced as we get older. I’ve had a rough couple of decades, so my walls I built are basically impenetrable. It’s been a major issue in past relationships. I have such a hard time communicating, but it seemed as though as soon as I’d let some real emotion out, it would come back to haunt me.
So I try and pour all of that rough unbridled emotion into pages of a journal. Or if I need to express myself and I didn’t see a way around it, a letter directly to someone. It always seems to help to let the words flow through my fingers and get it all out. However, it’s not as good as just telling someone.
There’s a different feeling there, being able to tell someone that something hurt you, or that something scared you. Being able to just spill it all out. It’s refreshing to let people see that you’re not “the strongest woman” (or man) that they know.
I was at my breaking point yesterday. I was in immense pain, from pretty much all of my joints as well as my chest and stomach (IST and IBD). The pain was so horrible I was having a hard time keeping the tears back in front of my daughter. Then to pile on the financial stress (because I’ve been so sick lately, I’ve missed work under FMLA. Daycare is very expensive even if I work overtime, so missing work put me in the situation of paying the mortgage vs daycare, food vs. daycare, Christmas presents vs daycare. So after 2 months, it’s up over $1000, and frankly I don’t see a good way to fix it) it just broke me.
I went home and holed up in my room with the intention of writing in my journal. Which I did, I wrote page after page after page. Yet, no matter how much I spilled onto paper, I didn’t feel any better. The pain obviously doesn’t go away with writing, but I was hoping if I could get rid of the turmoil and stress snowballing in my head, I might be able to handle the physical pain.
Then Jon came in. He had visited me on lunch, and I had basically hopped out of the car because I thought I was going to cry. He came in the bedroom, and gave me a hug and I just lost it. I don’t know if it was because I was in physical pain, or what, but it all just came pouring out of my mouth. Everything, with tears and all. Over the course of 20 minutes, all my demons roared out and I just let it go.
After a little while, I felt better emotionally, and was able to deal with the physical pain. We didn’t find a solution, and I still don’t know what I am going to do to catch up on my daycare bill, but I have ideas to cut the costs in the future. Either way, I was able to tell someone else what was bothering me/scaring me (losing my daycare.. losing my job) and I felt a lot better afterwards. I was able to talk for a while, and then take some pain pills and get a little sleep.
That was a good first for me. I don’t open up to anyone, usually. It’s something I’ll need to work on in the future. I don’t want to muck up this relationship with my communication issues, so I’m really going to try. Either way, knowing that not everything is on your shoulders, that you’re not the only one carrying the weight is a feeling I want to feel again. I’m just glad I have a partner willing to help me take on the world.