I suspect that you and I may have something in common. A few things actually. Part of being a grown-up, I suppose, is truly joining the human race; realising that although we are all uniquely ourselves, we are not special. Feeling special, is perhaps, a very efficient way to feeling isolated and unhappy. It sets us apart, this specialness. I wonder if a lot of addicts feel special. And a lot of comedians.
Anyway, now that I have grown out of feeling very special, I assume that you and I have this in common: All the feelings. Not one at a time but ever-shifting, sometimes weightily muddy and other times sharp and shimmering, coming and going throughout the day with absolutely no predictability. Exhausting.
We are blessed with all the feelings and it makes us wise and empathetic and colourful, probably. It also makes us tricky and heavy to handle and flighty. We are still – decades after adolescence – at the mercy of our feelings. Unable, right there in the moment, to regulate. Suddenly untethered and cast adrift for the anticipated backbone of our day.
Inconvenient and painful though this may be, it is nonetheless admirable. Because something in us recognises that feelings are only feelings. And so we feel them. Even if we can’t identify them (what question is drearier or more confusing than ‘How are you feeling right now?’), we let them rush over and through us. Pity the folk who can’t bear it, who slam the iron doors and reinforce the glass walls. Feelings are a bore. But they are the big connector; the invisible beams that makes us relatable, loving and loveable. But don’t you sometimes wish you could have one day that went in a straight line?