Unsaid. in Phoenix

There are so many things I want to say but I don’t say them because I’ve been trained to believe that it should be embarrassing to be so expressive. It’s melodramatic. Cheesy.

Annoying.

I know it wouldn’t be annoying to you. I just know it.

And yet. There’s this… blockage. A wall between what I think and what I say, or how I say it. I used to be so expressive. Downright outgoing. Well, on the outside, anyway. I always had anxiety but I was pretty good at the whole fake-it-til-you-make-it thing. Yeah, that never ends well, just so you know. All it does is create a powder keg that most certainly will explode eventually.

But now? Now I’m not faking it. Now there’s no anxiety. Now I just feel genuine, authentic. I am what I am and I’m okay with that.

Except there are still some walls. Some thoughts, ideas, emotions that I just… hesitate. I hesitate until the thought/idea/feeling passes because I doubt myself. Or, I used to doubt myself. I don’t so much anymore. But those damn walls. They won’t let me say things I want to say when I want to say them.

I tell you that you’re beautiful because you are. Beautiful in the way a sunset is beautiful. And when you look at me? Oh, the way you shine. Your eyes on me is like standing on a quiet, empty beach with the sun on my face and a cool breeze in my hair. It’s peaceful, serene, and yet so very exciting at the same time. And intimidating, a little. No, not intimidating. Overwhelming. Just a bit. It’s so incredible, so unbelievable, that it feels surreal, like a dream. I know, consciously and rationally, that it’s not a dream or some construct of my mind, but the emotional response is another story.

(See? I’m cheesy, overemotional, melodramatic.)

New emotional responses are overwhelming. I don’t know how to parse them yet, it takes time, but there are so many happening all at once. Yes, just a bit overwhelming, in the same way a beautiful song or a work of art can move you so much that you feel a bit short of breath and a little light-headed. What a rush!

I love it. Oh, how I love it. I love the light and peace and love you bring to my life. I love the smile I put on your face. I love our emotional reactions to each other. I love how we make each other laugh. I love how we fit together. I love how you love me and I love how I love you. I love the feeling of freedom I have, of lightness, of being without burden.

Emotions have always felt like a heavy burden to me. I’ve never trusted them but was forced to carry them around anyway. Now I’m overwhelmed with emotion but it’s not heavy, not heavy at all. Instead of feeling like an encumbrance, it feels like a flowing river and I’m in a little boat just floating gently along. My emotions are carrying me rather than the other way around. It’s mildly frightening, the feeling of not having control, and yet… I do have control, don’t I? This is what being in control of my emotions feels like, maybe. For the very first time in my life, I’m feeling healthy things, powerfully peaceful things. Instead of feeling weak, I feel strong.

(But those walls, though…)

Another thing I’ve left unsaid is that I don’t always talk to you when I want to. (Okay, it’s all the time, I want to talk to you all the time.) I worry that I’m bothersome, that I’m interrupting something you’re doing. I worry that I’ll become annoying eventually. I know, you already said there’s nothing I could do to freak you out or scare you away, but I worry that you underestimate my abilities to drive people up walls. (Or maybe, just maybe, they were weak, ill-equipped to deal with someone like me?)

Hm.

I’m working on it. I’m working so hard at being more accepting of myself, loving myself more, loving myself enough that I don’t get on my own nerves anymore. I know that all of these feelings are just leftovers from my previous life. I know that, while they are valid, they are not truthful. Reconciling that is easier said than done.

I’m working on it.

Last updated May 18, 2019