It is a funny thing when I find myself talking with others, about “Feelings” I’ve noticed that “my feelings” are people, and that I contrive my life around the fact that other people are my feelings.
For instance I mention to someone I was feeling down, and they will reply with; “But you have those beautiful Grandchildren!” I smile for a moment ( my mood goes up ) and politely say; “Yes I do…, but I don’t see them near enough” (My mood goes down).
It is as if — because they’re out there, my world is better, and it is — but they can’t stopped what is going on in my personal life anymore than I can theirs. My grandchildren grow, learn words, sentences, draw, eat with a spoon and all this without me being there, don’t get me wrong, because they are the best things that has happened to me in the last 5 years!
Like the smile that comes across my face when my Grandchildren are mentioned — the lines deepen and the anguish shows on my face when the other “feelings/people” in my life present themselves — the emotional bank account so deeply overdrawn by these feelings/people that they succumb any thought of a happiness.
This reliance on people for my happiness has caused me to have insecurities that have been very debilitating. These people are the main cause of the anxiety attacks that I fight though, not everyday but some every week, and Xanax is the stabilizer that I use to combat the anxieties.
I have my own feelings don’t get me wrong, but by the time I get to them they’ve become very cynical, untrusting and unhappy feelings. Alone my thoughts become scattered and struggle to find any sense of peace, so how can my feelings be anything but unsettling.
That word — Alone… When you get to my core alone is seems to be the feeling most prevailant, a sad commentary for a person thats seems to have all he needs. I was a only child and it and I always had to work things out alone, so as a adult what has changed?, nothing really…
Kind of a scattered conclusion to this post but “Feelings” are just to hard to put a finger on, and are always just so damn personal to the person feeling the feeling. None are the same, my sad is different from your sad, and so it goes.
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