The Discomfort of Experience

The first time I woke up, the emotions overwhelmed me.

I began experiencing so many emotions in one day that I genuinely believed I was going insane. I was convinced something was wrong with me because everything felt so intense. My whole body and mind would be joyous, sad, anxious, overwhelmed, angry - you name it - at any different time of the day. No one emotion ruled my days, but rather a flurry of incredibly intense feelings about all the different moments I experienced.

I distinctly remember the conversation I had with my therapist about this. It was my early 20s, and I had been in therapy for a decent amount of years considering my age.

She asked me what bothered me about having all these different feelings in one day.

The question caught me off guard. I think some part of me honestly thought she would validate my insanity. As if, she would say something like, "Oh wow, we should really check that out."

But no, she asked why it bothered me.

I answered honestly. I felt I was going insane. There was no way a normal human could experience so much in one day. It must be an imbalance of some kind.

My therapist smiled comfortingly, as she usually did, and asked if I had considered that I had never let myself feel all my feelings since in my home it was never safe to.

I remember crying softly. I had never considered before that I had repressed my ability to feel so acutely amidst the trauma, abuse, emotional game playing, parentification, etc. that accompanied my upbringing.

I followed the tears with laughter, asking her if people really felt this much every day, and if so, how did they live with it?!

She told me people enjoyed it. She even had a co-worker who found a reason to cry every day as a catharsis.

That really made me laugh (and also, confusingly, cry).

Now, I know what she meant.

As I wake up again, I remember the insanity. The wild, wild range of emotion that comes with being alive and actually present in my body every day. I had loved all those feelings so genuinely for years before this big fall. In those years following my ability to name emotions and understand what it meant to truly feel, I had believed in myself - that every experience I had was not only valid, but beautiful.

I think this time as I wake, I'm crying in joy to feel all of this again, to know that I am here again, living in my body. While I am simultaneously, crying in grief, that I let myself live so many years now pushed back into the heart and mind of a child who thought she was never safe enough to feel.

I cry and rage at myself for not fighting back - for allowing myself to be shamed out of my experience because it was familiar to be pushed down and shut up. I grieve for the woman who didn't protect the child inside her in a desperate attempt to make the people she loved happy - in constant fear of retaliation. I scream for the woman who let a few loud voices make her believe she was hated and horrible instead of so very loved because it was what she was used to hearing years ago. I sob because I forgot. I weep because I gave up.

I smile because I see myself coming back. I hold my strength as I start to speak my truths - as I remember my own value and knowledge. I allow my heart open again while also holding my boundaries. Here, I protect myself while remaining open to experience. Here, I build back my warrior heart.

Here, I reclaim my voice.