I Can Take It

Many times in the past, I have wondered if I could handle someone telling me, “Michelle, you look like you’re gaining weight.  Are you okay with that?  Is there something going on?”  What about a similar question: “Michelle, you’re getting pretty thin.  Are you okay with that?  Is there something going on?”  Could I handle those comments?

The answer is yes.  I can.  People have given me enough negative comments over the years that now I know I can deal with the pang of criticism.  The pain goes away.  I can withstand that.  I would rather hear something—anything—that could steer me in a healthy direction; I would rather a stinging comment lodge itself in my head than have nothing tugging at me as I head down an unhealthy road. The criticism may not save me at the time it is given., but it could very likely come to mind later, when I lack clarity and am open for change.

I’m finally getting old enough that I recognize emotions when they pop up.  When I feel the pain of a criticism or a deep sadness rises to the surface, they aren’t foreign, strange visitors anymore.  I don’t look around, bewildered, wondering what to do with those feelings.  I feel them. I recognize them. I name them. 

I talk to them, and they fade away. They may bring things for me to think about.  They may lead me toward some action.  But the feeling fades.  And I am not afraid of them anymore.

These are the lessons for today:

1. Feel your emotions and remember them.  Eventually, you will have enough victories dealing with emotions that you will feel secure and not completely overwhelmed every time you feel them.  (And if you feel overwhelmed, you will one day firmly know that overwhelming states pass as well and that you can find treasures inside those moments.)
2. Be lovingly honest with people.  Don’t shy away from telling people your concerns if you have them.  Any words of encouragement, even if something that could potentially sting must be included in the statement, are better than no words at all when someone truly is in need.  But please, choose your words in love—don’t take so long in choosing that you say nothing—but choose loving language.

Reach Out

Sometimes, I forget that one of the cures for any kind of troublesome thinking is simply opening up to someone else about what is happening or what is on my mind. No matter how trivial or ridiculous it seems, if I share my feelings or thoughts with someone, through ANY means—email, phone, in person, letter-writing, singing a song, crying when there are no words—the load lightens. I have to get the jumble of ideas or emotions out. And when I’m able to share details, it feels even better. Somehow, sharing really matters.

So obvious, and yet I forget that! Lies enter my head, like (and this is in no particular order):
1. It’s not that big a deal.
2. This is too huge/incomprehensible to deal with.
3. I’ve dealt with this a thousand times. Let’s just ride this one out.
4. I can handle this myself—or I SHOULD be able to handle this myself.
5. That person won’t be able to respond in a helpful or satisfying way.
6. I don’t want to bother someone else with this.
7. There’s no way to express this in an adequate or understandable way.

The key is replacing those lies with the following truths:
1. If I feel it, it matters. If this is an issue for me, it deserves attention.
2. Once I express something to someone either by speaking or writing, it becomes less of a monster. I can think through the thing and see it for what it is. If I am dealing with a long list of worries, stresses, or to-dos, looking at them written down makes the thoughts less repetitive and more contained. The mountain in my head is usually smaller than I think.
3. If I am dealing with an issue again, there is more to investigate. It still deserves attention. I will learn something new this time or more deeply cement truths I have not fully grasped.
4. I probably can handle this myself, but it will be much easier, lighter, and faster to ask for help. Simply getting a new perspective can mean the world when life gets confusing or overwhelming.
5. I have been surprised time and time again by people’s reactions. Often, the act of getting something out is all I need, regardless of the response, but by sharing, I at least present myself with the opportunity to receive a new gift. Also, if I don’t think one person can give me what I need, I probably know someone else out there who can. Reach out to that person.
6. I am never bothered when a true friend reaches out for help. I like hearing other people’s stories and want to be there for them. It deepens relationships. The person I try to contact does not have to pick up the phone or reply to my note if s/he does not feel like interacting. My friends value me and will be there however they can be. The main benefit for me is simply trying to communicate what I’m holding inside.
7. I can express this thought or emotion in any way I can. There are no rules. No method or means of expression is inferior. If I have to draw someone a picture or just dial a number and start sobbing, that is good enough. If the extent of my willingness or abilities enables me to send only a tiny email or IM that says, “I’m hurting,” that’s fine. When I can’t offer a big explanation, leave the house, or speak on the phone, there are smaller means of reaching out. If all I can do is send a letter that won’t get to the recipient for days, I can still write it. Trash the overtures and immediate reciprocity. I don’t have to have something to give in return for their time. An opportunity will rise to return the favor later. For now, let the monster loose!

I rarely have to suffer alone. Even if I can only seem to reach out to the same individual for a period of time, at least I reach out. The person might ask for some space after a while, but the process of choosing who to open up to usually follows a natural course. My perception is generally the only thing making me believe I’m “too much.”

Don’t bottle things up, my friends. Even little issues need airing, or they will fester and grow into infectious beasts. It’s amazing what a little word to a friend will do. Even if I have to start out doing nothing more than asking about the other person’s day, that form of outreach is good enough.

The main thing: Human beings are connected. We are made to share joys and sorrows. Everyone needs a chance to do what they are built to do. Reach out, regardless of how it looks!

Simple and Sweet

I recently wrote a simple, happy song called “Colors of You.” Something in me loves a simple, breezy song. I admire its sweetness because so few of my songs have that quality. I tend toward the intense ballad, which I enjoy equally, but those few lighthearted pieces are treasures in my heart.

This extends to life. I am attracted to high-drama, bold color, and intensity. I try to create these things and live within them. But when I happen upon a simple moment with just the right feeling and all the right colors, I smile and relax. I am relaxing right now, as the sun shines through my window and I have no pressing business to attend to until I return to work next Monday. Glorious.

This life is beautiful and precious. I don’t think any gems are wasted, even if I’m the only one here experiencing them. Perhaps someone else out there is experiencing a charmed moment, too, and in a way, we share it together. That makes my heart smile.

See, I’m as cheesy as it gets… and I’m owning it now. For years, I dismissed the lighter part of me ‑ the delicate, girly, Disney-feature-film (if you will) part of me. Now, I like and appreciate her. Cynicism gets you places, but not everywhere. The same can be said for the more rainbow-esque part of me. I’m glad to embrace both elements now.

Anyway, I wish you all 365 more jewel-like days in 2009. Hopefully, it will be the best year yet! For my part, I’m certain it will be. Sure, parts will smell like the used Trans Am of a 16-year-old boy without enough money or sense to purchase deodorant. But other parts will be fresh as a daisy! Hope it’s filled with whatever makes you happy (and if that’s stinky teenage boys, more power to you, as long as we’re in legal territory…).

Happy New Year!

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Oh, and it has come to my attention that more than one reader out there is restraining him/herself from commenting or emailing me after digesting my posts. Just wanted to say, feel free to comment or contact at any time! If people don’t comment because no one else does, then the ball never starts rolling. And even if it never starts rolling, I enjoy the few comments I do get, whether online or in person. Thanks to everyone! I appreciate you all more than you can know :)

Has the Universe Assigned Me a Special Role?

Sometimes, I feel like the designated Cosmic Container of Sorrow. I have no personal reason to be sad, except the usual underlying sadness that most humans carry, but I cry and lay around and feel sadness pumping through me so often. I even relish it! I feel happy to feel sad. I feel happy to feel anything, so I pick up sadness and run.

I think that if some divine hand were to affirm my role as the “Cosmic Container of Sorrow,” I would be more accepting of it. I could hold my head high as a strong person, capable of taking on and expressing the sorrow of the universe, rather than pondering over my feelings and wondering why I’m not happy-go-lucky or if I am just a whiney baby.

I’m not a crybaby, I don’t think. One of the things that makes the sadness linger is often my reluctance to share my weakened, sad condition with others. And as I said in an earlier post, I’m working to open up earlier and more often. But recognizing that doesn’t make it easier. The sadness I felt earlier today is fading right now, but oh, it gets so strong.

I definitely long for other emotional people to share these things with, but I find myself consistently stymied when trying to think of who to call or talk to. I wish people would come out of the woodwork and help me express my emotions. I imagine someone who would stick with me through my ups and downs and my frequent lack of desire to be with people. He or she would also encourage me to get out and be with others when appropriate.

Immediately following this fantasy, I realize that no one will probably be able to do that. Perhaps… I believe in miracles. But until the miracle happens, I have to learn to do these things myself. Will I??

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I’m also in the midst of looking for more ways to expand in the virtual realm. Will I create my own website? Possibly. Will I try to use it as a landing page where I can advertise myself as a speaker and performer? I would. I just have to explore the available avenues. I can build a web presence, and I can create a community space for people to come together. I am interested in these things.

Hmmm, now I’m fantasizing about someone who can help me do that. Ugh… Do I really have to bother with making friends and all that jazz?? ;)

A New Project: Sharing Emotions...without thinking them away

I miss the boat. It takes me quite a while to connect with people, and I always feel that I miss numerous chances to take relationships to that infamous “next level.” Up to now, I have blazed a trail of mostly shallow friendships that I don’t discover are shallow until well after I assume I’ve opened up and connected “adequately.” Luckily, at this point, I am better able to gauge the true depths of my friendships and enjoy a few truly wonderful, strong connections. For the longest time, however, I remained puzzled as to why so many of my relationships stayed on the surface, leaving me unsatisfied.

Well, a revolution this week has enlightened my situation somewhat: I don’t admit my vulnerability. Of course, I am a strong woman who can care for herself, but that does not mean I am without needs and desires that I would rather not fulfill on my own. I need help so much of the time. I feel alone. I feel afraid. I feel confused. I long to be really known and to know others. Can others sense this about me? Do I ever admit to any of that?

I have been doing so well with feeling my emotions, and I’m even better at working through them, rationalizing them in a positive way. I, in a sense, “therapize” myself. I work through my feelings and learn from them. Nonetheless, something has been missing in my emotional journey.

I tend to express the emotion to myself, crying for hours or beating up pillows in anger. But rarely do I ever tell anyone about what happened. It’s hard to imagine that I would call someone and admit to sobbing for half a day. By that time, I’ve usually already “worked through” the issue and disregard the need to share my raw emotion with someone else.

In the same vein, I hesitate or don’t even think to call someone and ask for help when I’m just at the beginning of feeling something difficult. I devalue working on my emotions with someone. I devalue the mere expression of emotion in front of someone’s face, talking about the honest emotion I’m having without mitigating it with all the reasons or explanations I’ve already come up with.

I realized I was missing this crucial step of expression to others when I pinpointed a deep desire. Many times, I simply want people to let me feel feelings. I don’t want the feelings “fixed,” and I don’t want them ignored. I just want to be allowed to feel. And I long for someone to see me emoting and allow it. Despite this desire, I almost never get to the point of sharing an emotion without quickly following my share up with my nice, neat therapized package. I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with negativity. Life is fun and positive! Shouldn’t I ensure that the positive spin takes center stage rather than the darkness of my original feeling?

No. The explanations and background surrounding my emotions are valuable, but not at the expense of giving the feeling itself credence. By hiding the depth of what I’m feeling, I miss out on a connection with the world I’m meant to have.

By not admitting my frailty, I separate myself. I think I want that separation, that it makes me strong. And for whatever reason, I think that once I’ve worked through a feeling, it’s a sign of weakness to return to it in its raw form to share my experience with another person.

Well, time to stop this. I am deciding t make a concerted effort to share more of the difficult feelings I have with others and to abandon my fear of being seen as weak. Someone who feels things as deeply as I do cannot be weak. But I am human. And I want others to know that. It’s difficult to feel connection with a “perfect” or “invincible” person, and I try to come off as both of those things, despite the fact that I am neither.

I treasure it when someone is willing to share with me a true emotional moment. I am impressed and honored when someone entrusts me with their true feelings, without explaining them away.

This new way of working with feelings and other people will take a while, but it will be worth the journey. I’ve already begun experimenting with this, resulting in some embarrassment, but also incredibly revelatory moments with others and a deeper sense of connection. Ultimately, this exercise is simply an extension of me not covering anything up and being authentic wherever I am. No need to perform… unless I’m playing on stage ;)