I Blame Her...and Her - Feel
"What is this feeling,
So sudden and new?"
- "What Is This Feeling?", Wicked
"Why are you doing that?"
My friend and I were sitting in the bar. To avoid an unremarkable evening, I'd co-opted him (definitions 2 and 4) into accompanying me to a blues night at a local music venue. In that comfortable state of mind induced by a silly beverage and too-much-drums bar music, I was recounting tales of discarded life experiences and missed opportunities.
"Why are you remembering all this? Are you stuck in regret?" he asked again.
I didn't have a good answer at first, making do with "Not regret, really. Just remembering."
It wasn't until a day or so later when I put words to the action. I was _feeling_. As a recovering codependent (a subject for another post) and as a guy, I'm constantly refining my understanding of the proper role of emotions in life. This world offers many conflicting opinions on the matter. Some say, "Live your feelings," some say, "Emotion is weakness." Some say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything." Some say, "If you can't feel God at work in your life, you need to have more faith." (how would a less emotional person experience God, then? ) As I mature, though, I continue to explore and resolve how the "feel" part of life is supposed to work.
Long ago and far away, I used to be a homeschool kid raised in a super-strict subculture. I've alluded to it before in my writing, but you'd probably have to go all the way back to December 2006 to see a lot of influence. Over the last couple years, God has been digging recent brokenness out of my life. As I get most of that squared away, though, He's starting to dig deeper. Lately, we've been skirting the edge of sorting through "stuff Kenton learned as a kid".
I was taught things like "Always have faith", "pass the praise to God when you're complimented", "this too shall pass", and any number of teachings against strong emotions either positive or negative. A Facebook friend recently posted an article on how legalistic teachings on romance and relationships have continuing adverse effects on healthy relationships. If I had a dollar for every time I heard some variation on the theme of "don't be defrauding" or "expressing attraction shall only be done in a rigidly-controlled framework" or something of the ilk, well, I'd still have to work but could eat lunch for free for a week. And probably lunch at Chipotle too, not Ramen. Similarly, anger was always an indicator of inward character flaws; sadness was an expression of not submitting to God's plan; and so on.
I'm not sure what we were being trained to be or what the goal of the philosophy was. Were we to be automatons? Pavlovian machines existing to feel only at others' behest? Nothing healthy and mature, that's for sure.
One characteristic of codependency, (part of the definition, in fact), is to subjugate your feelings to another's will, whether well intentioned (weaponizing "humility" as a concept) or merely as a reaction to abuse (codependents can be often found in relationship with addicts/addiction is a family sickness). I'm still working out where mine got started, but "where it started" is much less important than "making it end". As I mature out of my codependency, I grow into God's vision for what role my emotions play in my healthy adult life.
A self-help book I was reading earlier this year particularly called out the importance to a codependent of feeling. When ripples happen on the pond of life, instead of being locked up by fear of others' opinions or reactions, the teaching was to feel what you feel, identify how you feel, what's causing it, and any necessary actions; then let it go. It's just a feeling - it doesn't control you. (The 12 Steps are rooted in similar truths.)
After growing up in the formulaic, rules-based subculture, my spiritual maturity took significant strides while I was dating Andie. She persuaded me of the value of being a human and feeling, rather than always thinking and judging with pure logic. Then she left and that systemic emotional shock left me "shut down" for the better part of a year. There was no "feel", just...nothing.
To an extent, I "blame" Andie in a positive sense for breaking me out of my "completely logical" shell. For that I am thankful, and rightfully so. On the darker side, though, I also assign her some blame for the rising tide of darkness that followed the stormy end of our relationship. In conclusion, yes, I blame her.
Years later, as I began a relationship with Mary, I was reticent to feel again. The way to a healthy relationship was to feel, but I was leery of being hurt again. Slowly but surely, she helped me peel off the scabs left by others and again I felt emotionally "whole".
Of course, we all know how that ended. Badly. My heart felt like it had been put through a cheese grater. In a strict metaphorical sense, it had been defoliated - the entire surface removed; no leaves, no flowers remaining. Then came that moment after you get hurt where you see subcutaneous flesh knowing this is going to hurt and bleed, but the slow red seeping hasn't quite started yet.
"I feel like sh*t
But at least I feel something"
- In Flames, "Disconnected"
I blame Mary for teaching me (again) to feel. (Rather more successfully, I might add.) I also blame her for the feeling of my entire life hurting at once.
That was a while ago now. I've grown and healed since. No more cheese grater, no more systemic shock. Presently, along my journey of life, I can experience, feel, then let it go.
That's what I was doing in the bar that so puzzled my friend - taking memories from times when I didn't process as well and bringing them to the foreground so I could understand, feel, then let it go. It's a better way of life - I'm less chained up with less "stuff" in my mental backpack. While I'm not entirely sure how I got here, I'm glad for the journey.
I blame her...and her...for bringing me along this journey.
So sudden and new?"
- "What Is This Feeling?", Wicked
"Why are you doing that?"
My friend and I were sitting in the bar. To avoid an unremarkable evening, I'd co-opted him (definitions 2 and 4) into accompanying me to a blues night at a local music venue. In that comfortable state of mind induced by a silly beverage and too-much-drums bar music, I was recounting tales of discarded life experiences and missed opportunities.
"Why are you remembering all this? Are you stuck in regret?" he asked again.
I didn't have a good answer at first, making do with "Not regret, really. Just remembering."
It wasn't until a day or so later when I put words to the action. I was _feeling_. As a recovering codependent (a subject for another post) and as a guy, I'm constantly refining my understanding of the proper role of emotions in life. This world offers many conflicting opinions on the matter. Some say, "Live your feelings," some say, "Emotion is weakness." Some say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything." Some say, "If you can't feel God at work in your life, you need to have more faith." (how would a less emotional person experience God, then? ) As I mature, though, I continue to explore and resolve how the "feel" part of life is supposed to work.
Long ago and far away, I used to be a homeschool kid raised in a super-strict subculture. I've alluded to it before in my writing, but you'd probably have to go all the way back to December 2006 to see a lot of influence. Over the last couple years, God has been digging recent brokenness out of my life. As I get most of that squared away, though, He's starting to dig deeper. Lately, we've been skirting the edge of sorting through "stuff Kenton learned as a kid".
I was taught things like "Always have faith", "pass the praise to God when you're complimented", "this too shall pass", and any number of teachings against strong emotions either positive or negative. A Facebook friend recently posted an article on how legalistic teachings on romance and relationships have continuing adverse effects on healthy relationships. If I had a dollar for every time I heard some variation on the theme of "don't be defrauding" or "expressing attraction shall only be done in a rigidly-controlled framework" or something of the ilk, well, I'd still have to work but could eat lunch for free for a week. And probably lunch at Chipotle too, not Ramen. Similarly, anger was always an indicator of inward character flaws; sadness was an expression of not submitting to God's plan; and so on.
I'm not sure what we were being trained to be or what the goal of the philosophy was. Were we to be automatons? Pavlovian machines existing to feel only at others' behest? Nothing healthy and mature, that's for sure.
One characteristic of codependency, (part of the definition, in fact), is to subjugate your feelings to another's will, whether well intentioned (weaponizing "humility" as a concept) or merely as a reaction to abuse (codependents can be often found in relationship with addicts/addiction is a family sickness). I'm still working out where mine got started, but "where it started" is much less important than "making it end". As I mature out of my codependency, I grow into God's vision for what role my emotions play in my healthy adult life.
A self-help book I was reading earlier this year particularly called out the importance to a codependent of feeling. When ripples happen on the pond of life, instead of being locked up by fear of others' opinions or reactions, the teaching was to feel what you feel, identify how you feel, what's causing it, and any necessary actions; then let it go. It's just a feeling - it doesn't control you. (The 12 Steps are rooted in similar truths.)
After growing up in the formulaic, rules-based subculture, my spiritual maturity took significant strides while I was dating Andie. She persuaded me of the value of being a human and feeling, rather than always thinking and judging with pure logic. Then she left and that systemic emotional shock left me "shut down" for the better part of a year. There was no "feel", just...nothing.
To an extent, I "blame" Andie in a positive sense for breaking me out of my "completely logical" shell. For that I am thankful, and rightfully so. On the darker side, though, I also assign her some blame for the rising tide of darkness that followed the stormy end of our relationship. In conclusion, yes, I blame her.
Years later, as I began a relationship with Mary, I was reticent to feel again. The way to a healthy relationship was to feel, but I was leery of being hurt again. Slowly but surely, she helped me peel off the scabs left by others and again I felt emotionally "whole".
Of course, we all know how that ended. Badly. My heart felt like it had been put through a cheese grater. In a strict metaphorical sense, it had been defoliated - the entire surface removed; no leaves, no flowers remaining. Then came that moment after you get hurt where you see subcutaneous flesh knowing this is going to hurt and bleed, but the slow red seeping hasn't quite started yet.
"I feel like sh*t
But at least I feel something"
- In Flames, "Disconnected"
I blame Mary for teaching me (again) to feel. (Rather more successfully, I might add.) I also blame her for the feeling of my entire life hurting at once.
That was a while ago now. I've grown and healed since. No more cheese grater, no more systemic shock. Presently, along my journey of life, I can experience, feel, then let it go.
That's what I was doing in the bar that so puzzled my friend - taking memories from times when I didn't process as well and bringing them to the foreground so I could understand, feel, then let it go. It's a better way of life - I'm less chained up with less "stuff" in my mental backpack. While I'm not entirely sure how I got here, I'm glad for the journey.
I blame her...and her...for bringing me along this journey.
posted by The student of life at 10:53 AM
2 Comments:
Now that you have pointed it out, I also remember experiencing the systematic suppression of emotions in my little Christian school. Granted, I did get the lesson, "Being angry is a natural reaction. The thing is, in your anger, do not sin." That said, the unsaid lesson was that anger, as you said, meant character flaws. The same with "Give God all the glory," meaning, "You shouldn't feel proud of your accomplishment, because God gave you that ability."
For a while I aspired to be in complete control of my emotions, being only logical. The ideal of logic reigned supreme at Mines, too, though in a different way.
I do not have ex-romantic relationships I blame, but sometimes I still blame my teachers and school - schools, I should say - for not realizing how much damage they were causing, and not stopping it.
I guess it took me a month to say that emotions are good, and you are far from alone.
Liz,
Ah, you and I have walked the same road, but for one small twist. See, it was my church and my peers who ingrained the brokenness into me just as it was your teachers and your school. They didn't realize it.
It was the ended romantic relationships that exposed the brokenness and began to heal it, albeit while causing pain. So "blame" in a sense is positive here.
Weird, though.
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