Boxes of feelings
Monday, August 23, 2010 at 8:23PM 
I opened up a Pandora's box of my feelings - there are many, conflicting, and overwhelming - and they threaten to ruin my equilibrium at which I worked so hard. What should I do? I can't function amidst their buzz. Perhaps I ought to catch them all into appropriate boxes, label, stack, and order - then sit across and think, which one should I open first to process - let's see - maybe the one on the left, small but shaky, says "Hate", or this one amorphous in the middle, big, with thin walls, called "Love", or that one in the corner, hiding behind others, with the label "Confusion", or maybe that long red one, scary yet enticing, called "Lust". Unfortunately, while I sit and think, the lids on the boxes start squirming, and out the feelings go, writhing their way free, and while I tuck "Fear" in one side of the room, "Anger" has already spilled onto the floor. When I chase "Excitement" to get it from jumping out the window, "Depression" already grabbed me by the shirt and is pulling me into its dark box. In the end, I give up, and watch them roam aimlessly, hoping that the windows and doors of my room will be enough of a containment - it turns out, I sit in one gigantic box with all those feelings, and I need to contain them to avoid letting them go into the wild. I can't open my Pandora's box - too dangerous.
I wish my feelings were material enough to be caught and organized. Instead, they's slippery and stubborn and ethereal. One minute I love, the next I hate. One minute I loath, the next I'm happy. One minute I'm jealous, the next I'm numb. And depressed. And curious. And devastated. Pile upon pile, layered cake which is holding me with its sticky sauce - and I look like a sad gigantic mess. My hair is stuck, my hands are dirty, but I manage to scribble it all down, and make new labels, new boxes, and tuck all feelings, one by one, each into its appropriate box. I stop expecting perfection - there is none, there can't be any, it's all part of the process, and I must trust the process. Which is not very pleasant, considering a steady diet of emotional absence over the last 20 years of my life. It's hard for me to be with myself, I want out of the room, screaming, but if I do run outside, I'll invariably hurt somebody, or hurt myself, until I can understand what exactly I'm feeling, how to react to it in a "contained" way, and how to present it to others, so they can understand the labels and put it into their containers, carefully, without spilling. Even as I write this, my "feeling free and new" is screaming at me - to hell with containers! Live life now as if it's the last day. Feel to the fullest! Ignore others, the rules, the society - who cares? Do what you want, tomorrow is an illusion, all there is - is now. And I look at it and it hurts me to recognize, I want to believe it, I want to throw everything else out and just run, spread my arms wide, and go crazy. Go on an emotional binge, try everything, cook in it, swim in it, and soak it all in.
Isn't that what life is all about? Yes, it is, for a moment. Then the next moment it is not. Then it is again. And in between I fall into the trap of guilt - I'd done something wrong, I'd done something I shouldn't have done, I risked and I was stupid. What if something bad happens? What is everything good will end? I am so used to being in the anticipation of a life threat, that I miss the good stuff. I miss the good boxes. The ones that are light, happy, and soft. The ones that hide behind all the ugly sharp ones. The ones that I am so afraid to open, so afraid to feel, so afraid to let myself be happy - what if as soon as I open them, everything will evaporate form them and I won't have anything left for the future? What if those moments will be so fleeting, that i will barely experience them? What if there will be not enough to satisfy my hunger? Maybe I don't want to wake my hunger at all, maybe it's better to never taste it, to not be broken hearted afterwards. To never have known the joy, to simply resort to a steady grey life. Wouldn't it be lovely? Wouldn't it be proper?
I know it won't. I know it's worth it. I creep towards the pile, I open the closest box, and I inhale - it smells heavenly. It makes me happy. I try to stay in the moment, and forget about everything else. Looks like for a few seconds I succeed. That's all that matters. Tomorrow will be tomorrow, and I will deal with what it brings to my heart - tomorrow.
Photo by Ricardo Motti.
Reader Comments (4)
Not sure how to respond at the moment, I a bit too spaced out for intelligent thought, but I understand..
Thanks! No matter how you respond, you respond - and that makes all the difference to me.
I love the different ways you can describe your emotions and feelings. My personal psychological challenge is opening my Pandora boxes. It was very painful and confusing when I tried, and my psychological defenses just too strong to allow me to go there again, into that dark corners, and resolve them. The fact that you can label your boxes is an incredible achievement. You are aware and brave, you will find the way!
Thanks.
Mashechka, thanks so much! If you ever want to chat over a cup of coffee, just let me know - I would love to.