What's the one hidden emotion you can't bring yourself to reveal?
Saturday, October 17, 2009 - FEATURES
[SP EXCLUSIVE]
ALEXITHYMIA: literally "without words for emotions"—to describe a state of deficiency in understanding, processing, or describing emotions
"Stop," she says at last. I make an uncomfortable face. "Seriously, we need to sort this out. Let's just talk it through." She's right. She is. The whole night's been awkward. "Not just tonight; we've been weird all week."
I give her a strained look. I'm speechless, and I'm almost never speechless. "You know every word in the dictionary—what do you mean you can't find the words?" I look some more for words, but I just give her that strained, uncomfortable look again. "Why can't you talk about this? You're a writer for god’s sake. I've read your writing… you can describe anything!"
"Blind men are great at describing… they just may not know what they're holding,” I respond. And because we sometimes speak in legalese: “What I mean is, there may not be a consensus ad idem, an express intention to be bound by terms and conditions, and… look… I'm not trying to claim sovereign possession over you, but…”
"I know what you're saying: Despite no clauses that clearly state the terms of the contract—in this case, exclusive possession—certain expectations may be implied." Damn. That was exactly what I was trying to say. But all I had were reverberating thuds.
"You can do what you like, OK?” I tell her. “I don't mind, but if we're… I really don't care, OK? But I'm into you, and if you're sleeping with other people then… then… that's fine, really, but I need to deal with this differently. It's a protection thing."
I'm scared of what she might say next. I want to throw up. I almost broke it off with her without reason or excuse four hours ago just to avoid the answer to this question. I'm so scared of what she might say next I hadn't even thought this question into existence. Frankly, I'm shocked it came out of my mouth—it felt more like lightning without thunder, a pointless flash in a dark room.
"Me? Me? What about you?!"
"Me? Lady, are you crazy? I'm not saying I… we don't have opportunities, but I wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't care about you. Are you crazy? It would be… so…" I don't know the word. What's the word? How would I feel if she says what I don't want her to say?
"Disrespectful. It would be really disrespectful."
That’s the word. The one word.
I have a confession to make. It is a naivety I cannot bring myself to give up—that our stories are everyone's stories. That our experiences are made up of shades of all the same stuff. Fear. Hope. Loneliness. Delirious giggles.
Sometimes, I want to write for the common man in all of us, but instead, the only thing I can find to write are anecdotes and vignettes. I think this because of cowardice—because some things are too close-to-home. There are questions out there that I'd rather not formulate in my head. Though friends and confidantes alike tell me the same thing: Be open. Put it on the table. What do you have to lose? I like the way she looks at me. (And even this sentence I can't finish... I cannot add "and if..." to it. I want it to exist, just like that, without qualification: I like the way she looks at me.)
I may have failed to make my point. My point is this: This is a post about the things we feel that are deaf and mute. That we feel but cannot (or do not want to) think. That, for whatever reason, because they are fundamental or raw or remind us of other things, we cannot describe them. Unnamed things. Things that exist as thuds. This is a post about those things, and I cannot describe them. I am scared of them, too. So, instead, I told you one story, and I hope the hidden part of my story speaks to the hidden part of one of yours.
If you want to know the ending of this story, it is happy. Today, after brunch, we drive through light rain, and she tells me about North Korean politics and international relations in Asia, which I listen to and find interesting. We smile at each other, and I remember the first thing I ever wrote about her:
and your eyes turned into blue butterflies when you looked at me because that's what it looks like. the whole sky fluttered.
Homework: (1) Be gentle to one another's hearts. (2) Tell us a story with a hidden emotion you can't admit in any other way.
Anger/Rage is a hard one for me to express to the appropriate party, probably due to my childhood. Sometimes I feel that I'm not allowed to express my anger in an appropriate way.
Grief/Sadness over certain things because people don't understand.
And my severe self-hatred is something I try to hide.
I guess I hide a lot
grief.
since my mom passed away (6 months ago), every time I let my mind go there, i fall apart. since the only way i can go on is to hide the grief, that's what i do, but i worry and worry and worry that i'm just prolonging this terrible journey.
@kevincortopassi - I know you probably didn't mean to reply, but I just wanted to let you know that I hope you know when you find out.
Imagine a woman who grew up with a sister already graduating as she's born, spending most of her time at her grandparents rather than with her mother while her father was at work most of the time...struggling to find her own place in life...never quite having the approval and support of her own family. She has plenty of friends, both the dear kind and the fair weather...tries to replace the family dynamic with experiences with those around her...sometimes making devestatingly bad mistakes. She watches her sister live a perfect life and her's becoming more desperate every progressing year. Christmas' spent with family as comfortable as if you'd been taken half way around the world with people of a different language and culture and dumped off to fend for one's self.
And as she ages, the heart grows sadder as she realizes this is as it will always be. She takes care of her mother with every emergency hospital trip while the golden child does little, and yet, she's beraded for everything ever in her life. She tries to vilify her life with any relationship she can manage up, sometimes to the point of ruining everything in her life to have something. Just something.
Things happen in life; jail, hysterctomy, house fire, the list goes on. And in all of it, its she alone in a bed wishing for some outreach. Not from her friends, but from the family. The one always too dissappointed and too busy.
Then she comes more and more to the realization that it will never change. And moreover, she'll never have children of her own to make it right with a family of her own; show the kindnesses to a child and husband that she never had. The feeling overwhelms daily. She shows the world a happy face at the sight of new children being born to friends, their lives so fulfilled, then she weeps at night for the child she'll never have.
Depression is always at the door, knocking until she pulls the pillows over to drown out its incesant rapping at the windows....trying to get in. Sometimes, she answers the door, and its so much harder with each visit into the dark to push it back out of the door. The spiral in her head of purposelessness. An abyss of the soul. I feel I could easily be this woman....
I have always wondered if i was strange because of my inability to verbalize my emotions at times but seeing the definition for Alexithymia and reading these stories makes me realize im not the only one.
Jealousy...i have a very hard time admitting to myself when i am feeling jealous over a friends success, or new love, or big change in their life. I just think....why not me? when is it my turn?
Jealousy, as soon as i feel it in my gut I ignore it yet i still know
it's there under the surface. I hate that i feel jealous...i should feel happy and proud of them but sometimes its so hard. And to my friends it may just seem like i'm uninterested or rude and i dont want to project that to them anymore. One day it will be my turn to share something life changing and exciting and i would like them to feel happy for me...so from now on i will be gentle to their hearts and I will be genuinely happy and proud of them so that when my turn comes, I deserve their praise and congratulations without having to feel guilt for all of the times I felt jealous towards their happiness.
i just made my friend read this, and that was her reply " this is the exact situation im passing through, down to the last detail, yes, including the "international relations in Asia"... however i embellish this feeling by reacting to everything negatively and being hostile towards him.. that should stop, but it doesnt change things, they're still awkward".
So, the basic idea is that the hidden emotion here is "insecurity" towards anything regarding love, the possibility of it, and its consequences. It's scary. Like, how does one even deal with this feeling? Preserve it, protect it, and live with it? There's always a fear of malfunctioning at the worst possible moment, where there's an idea there, but no words and no courage to face it. But yeah, my hidden emotion is "insecrity". Unfaltering, unabashed insecurity.
I think mine would be my depression. No one, not my parents, my siblings, or my counselor know how bad it is. The thing is, I don't like anyone to see me that weak. That powerless. I don't cry, get angry or anything. I live my everyday life like a zombie. It feels like I am slowly fading away into nothingness. It doesn't even hurt anymore.
I can't think of the word I want, but I can describe it and maybe someone can give it to me. I do everything, every breath and movement, for everyone else. I can't bring myself to do anything, even finding time to paint my nails a colour that I want instead of what someone else likes, for myself. I put everything and everyone else before even thinking about doing something for me and in that I lose my dignity. I hate that I do this, but I love that I do this. I help others, but I don't get to take care of myself. I can't stop it because I feel that I am less important than everything else, so I push all my effort and strength into a task for other people. What... what word describes this feeling? Maybe if someone else could define it for me I could... stop.
WELL MIN WOULD BE ANGER AND BECOUSE THIS I FEEL I GET TAKING ADVANTAGE OF AND PEOPLE SEE MY KINDESS AND TAKE ADVATAGE OF IT
BUT I THINK WHAT THEY DONT RELIZE IS THE VICIOUSNESS THAT LYE BENTH THE ANGER
"SO WHAT IF IM NOT THE SUPER HERO, WHAT IF I'M THE BAD GUY DEEP DOWN
- LIFE's BIG QUESTIONS
- ATTACK A CHALLENGE
My sensitivity and unhappiness. I feel I am expected to be tough and hard. I can't be sensitive because others will break my heart. I am told I am ungrateful when I start to say I'm unhappy because it's true I have all I could want and more. There's no reason why I should be unhappy but I am.