Emotions: An Exercise in Futility

As a general rule of my life, I don’t really emote.

I don’t want to. I have no interest in emotions. Especially the ones that make me vulnerable. I do anger, and contentment – that’s about it. I don’t want to get too happy, I don’t want to get too sad, I don’t want to have to deal with anything that make me have to think or exposes me as a real, living, human being.

It runs in the family. Nobody in my family really emotes. We just bottle everything up, pretend everything is fine, and refuse to deal with anything even vaguely emotional. Unless it’s anger – we do anger, and we do anger well. Broken plates. Broken phones. Broken furniture. Broken hearts we’re too proud and stupid to admit.

Nobody apologizes. Nobody opens up about how anything really makes them feel. It’s too uncomfortable.

And this discomfort carries onto everything. I struggle in my relationship to connect sometimes. Seth understands, thank the Lord, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I struggle to make social connections. It’s hard to make friends, or even casual acquaintances, simply because I lack the ability to open up, connect, and care.

People tell me they love me. I get simultaneously repulsed and uncomfortable.

I don’t mean to. But I can’t even tell my parents or siblings I love them. How am I supposed to let in, and care about, anyone else?

So I’m a bit emotionally stunted. It hurts.

I think it hurts the most because I want to be able to express how I feel. There are so many times I try to open up, that I want to be able to tell people how much they mean to me. That I would love nothing more than the explain how I’m hurting, what I need, what I want, what I wish for them.

But I can’t. I don’t know how. And it hurts.

I think I’m going to try, though. I think I need to try. To reach out, to do what’s uncomfortable. To live, and emote, and experience a whole world I know nothing about.

It’s probably going to be an exercise in futility; never hurts to try.

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