“What am I, a cow who gives you blog-milk?” I asked Ming. He was headed to bed and implying on his way that I shouldn’t go to bed because I hadn’t blogged yet.
Feelings can be like weird uncomfortable clothes I can’t take off. Feelings can be self-perpetuating–snowball or avalanche or dominoes falling. Feelings can be like quicksand or a bog. Feelings can be irrational, and they confuse me. I try to sort them out, then decide which ones to listen to–sometimes hard to decide.
They can also be easy, when I’m gliding on joy, and things seem possible. They can be fun. They can be very comfortable, like my love for Ming.
Feelings can guide me, but I struggle with them. Like wrestling with an angel.
I can see someone sabotaging themself with anxiety by having bad behaviors that produce anxiety, over and over. Then I can do the same.
Some people can’t relate to my feelings so dismiss them. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the phenomenon. You shouldn’t feel like that, so I don’t believe you do. You shouldn’t feel like that, so I don’t have to consider it.
I told a doctor how I was terrified of a particular medical procedure–I agonized for months–maybe years? Then I finally made the appointment–then I freaked out and canceled it.
The doctor told me I shouldn’t be afraid; I would be fine. I was like, ok…do you know what anxiety is? Do you think “don’t be afraid” is how to help someone not be afraid? Do you think if I could turn it off, I would have?
“Oh, don’t be afraid! I didn’t think of that. Thank you, doctor. My problem is solved.”
My feelings didn’t make sense to him. Not that giving me a pill would have been a solution. I hoped he had some workaround, another way to deal with the health problem that necessitated the procedure. Because of insurance, there are certain hoops to jump through.
Then I almost died and spent five days in the hospital. There I partially got over my medical phobia. I guess it was exposure response therapy, big time.
Afterward I found a place that would let Ming stay with me for the procedure, went through with it, and I was ok. It was pretty hellish, but I did the thing.
There’s a fine line between optimism and denial. It can be a judgment call. I want to keep it positive, but I also want to live in the “real” world when I can.
I ask for reality checks and try to be cautious about extreme feelings. But I notice that other people can be super wrong, and they’re supposedly not even crazy. I’m smart about feelings, but it can be hard to trust myself.
Well, this doesn’t have funny parts. I’m afraid I’m not giving you good blog-milk, my love.
Tons of funny things happen, but I forget them. Jokes about Bunny. Complicated jokes about things that happened a long time ago.
I’d rather just hug. Let’s hug in the morning. I gotta go to bed–gnight.
