It feels like constantly trying to solve a mystery.
Like there’s a secret I need to figure out. A question I don’t know but need to answer.
It feels like the light turning green, looking both ways 4 more times and still wondering if it’s safe to proceed.
It feels like making a list, crossing everything off the list, and then adding more to the list.
It feels like wanting to do nothing more than anything, and then being tense as a 2 by 4, all clenched and shallow-breathing when you finally grant yourself permission to do so. (It also feels like being the prisoner and the guard at the same time. Granting yourself permission to escape. How bizarre.)
It feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop, and there’s always, always another shoe.
I don’t want to use the word, because it’s so loaded now.
So full of feelings and associations that point us all in different directions, elicit different emotions.
But the name is no matter when it comes to feelings.
So I will tell you how it feels.
It feels like someone saying, “take a deep breath,” and you do it, and they look at you funny and say, “no… a deep breath.” And you realize maybe you don’t even know how to really breathe.
It feels like mantras on mantras on mantras to get your inner monologue to stfu when it’s time to go to bed. Did you know there are people who can just *go to sleep* when they’re tired? I spend at least one hour collectively each night saying things like, “What’s done is done.” “Everything that needs to get done will get done.” “You will be fine if you forget something.” “You are capable and smart.” “You did do enough today.” “Just relax.” (That last one pisses me off but I try it anyway.)
It feels like none of the options I can think of are the best option, so I have to keep thinking until I find it.
It feels like that about-to-cry feeling, always a lump in your throat, always trying to breathe that lump away.
It feels like… this is not normal, and yet it is so normalized.
It feels like we’ve pushed the baseline bar so far that now there must be something physiologically abnormal before we perk up— panic attacks, in ability to focus, binge eating, sleeplessness, stomachaches. We wait until we’re on fire to even think about leaving the burning building. Have to have “proof” of the fire despite smelling smoke, feeling warm, hearing alarms.
I hate how much we value our heads over our hearts.
How much we ignore how we feel in favor of what we (think) we know. How much we distrust what we know in our bones and worship what we “know” in our brains.
When did facts supersede feelings? How can one be any more valid than the other? Because one is seemingly more proveable? Are my words not proof enough of a very real ache? Why is algebra more respected than this hunch I have that something is not right? Why do even I— superfeeler, poet, drama queen— want to logic my way out of this state?
All these feelings of not enough, other shoes, and more to do. And instead of look them in the eye, sitting down heart-to-heart, I hush them like a baby, forgetting to ask why they’re crying.
But recently, I have grown tired of this feeling.
I have tried to reason with it, tried to console it with Facts and Truths. All to no avail. What I know in my head cannot compete with what I know in my heart. Trust me, I have spent a life trying to reconcile the two, living in a world that validates Head Knowledge so much more than Heart Knowledge. I have been asked to “prove” feelings with facts. Speak less subjectively, more objectively. Lead less with “I feel like…” and more with “authority.” A binary which belittles feelings to subordinate less-thans.
But believe me, I wish this worked. I wish the antidote to this feeling were indeed, facts.
Alas, everything from my experience tells me it is not.
For good measure, I tried again last night as I lay awake at some Godly hour during which I do not allow myself to look at the clock (a rare time I rebel against facts, knowing that this indisputable information— the time—will greatly influence my ability to fall back asleep. Best to rely on feelings here, for sure.)
I tried to wield my mighty sword of Facts and Knowledge, all my mantras and reminders, against the beast of Feelings.
It did not even make a scratch.
The only way this beast rests is when she runs out of energy or…
…
when someone dares acknowledge her beauty and power. Someone looks at her and says, “You’re doing so great. I see you. Thank you. Your skills are needed here.”
Then, and only then, does she sleep soundly through the night, seen and heard, acknowledged and validated, praised and thanked for who and how she is instead of constantly asked to go away and be somehow different.
These feelings felt. This heart heard. No battle won. No battle needed. Peace achieved even so.
Imagine that.