Tag Archives for journal

InkTober 2017: Day 20 – Deep

Isn’t it interesting that when we talk about feelings it’s with regards to how deep we feel them? Two phrases that immediately come to mind because they reference the depths within our bodies to which we may feel emotions – whether good or bad – are ‘from the bottom of my heart’ and ‘in the pit of my stomach’. Metaphysically or mystically there’s also the phrase ‘deep in my soul’ that’s meant to describe a depth that goes far beyond anything we feel within our bodies.

I’m not good at doing or feeling things superficially. When I do something, I put my all into it. When I feel as if I’m just going through the motions or I’m less than enthusiastic about any task before me I know that it’s not where my interest and passion are. Similarly, when I meet someone and spend a bit of time them, if I don’t feel excitement at the thought of speaking to them or seeing them in the future, I know my heart isn’t in it and it won’t be fair for me, or them, to deepen our involvement.

Where I believe our feelings should be when we’re in relationships is soaring about the clouds. I know many people believe it’s an unrealistic expectation to feel that way in every moment, but why should anyone settle for less. A relationship – actually any significant endeavour – is hard work, so why shouldn’t it generate the best possible feelings when you’re in it? I can’t see anything wrong with having that approach. Besides, isn’t that the way you’d like the person you’re involved with to feel about you?

 

InkTober 2017: Day 19 – Cloud

As a child, did you play the game where everyone would lay on their backs in the grass and look for shapes, usually animals, in the thick fluffy white clouds as they floated by? I loved that game. I also loved trying to see the things that others saw, although I wasn’t always successful. However, what I loved more was the slight dizzy feeling I would get as the clouds and their blue backdrop of sky moved above us because it made me feel as if I was moving too.

Sometimes I would lie on the grass for what felt like hours. Then when I finally stood up, I would feel unsteady. I always needed a moment to steady myself on the solid ground before I could start running around again with my friends.

I wonder if I’m the only one who felt that sensation?

 

InkTober 2017: Day 18 – Filthy

I was raised in a family where swearing, especially among children, was unacceptable – even taboo. Because of this, for most of my life I’ve considered swearing a filthy habit or something done by those who have a limited vocabulary and inability to express their thoughts without relying on profanity. I’m not so sure I believe that so strongly now. In recent years, as my illness has refused to subside, my opinion has softened. Maybe it’s partially because my pain medications have somewhat lowered my inhibitions or it might be that when I’m in extreme pain my mind doesn’t always function clearly.

Whatever the reason, swearing has become part of a shorthand for me to express my anger, frustration, and pain. However, I’m still a bit reserved about when I use obscenities. I won’t swear in front of my parents or elder members of my extended family, probably because somewhere deep inside me I still fear some sort of punishment for using what I was raised to believe is “bad language.” I don’t swear when speaking to the doctors whose support and efforts to get me healthy have been steadfast. And I definitely don’t use curse words in the presence of children.

So when, if not in front of all those I’ve listed, do I spurt coarse four-letter – and occasionally longer-lettered – words? I use curse words when I’m talking to friends and family (like my brother) with whom being myself, all of myself, is never questioned. I blurt them out when, frustrated, I fumble through explaining to my therapist how I’m coping with all aspects of my illness. I can also string curses together, better than a sailor does, when I’m on my own and hopelessly trying to do something that never posed any difficultly when I was healthy.

Although I may not swear in every conversation or every instance of frustration, I must admit that I don’t view doing so as filthy as I once did. It has earned a place in my linguistic arsenal as a tool that helps me get to the point of what I need to communicate faster than trying to search for the appropriate words when I need that energy to focus on what ails me.