With today’s post, I’m kicking off a new series of mini-essays. Each will be entitled “Today, I am [insert feeling word],” and will explore different elements of emotional regulation.
I think one of things that makes the pandemic so difficult to cope with is that everyone deals with the highs and lows at different times. Last week, I was in a pretty good place. Today, I’m struggling. I tried to employ some of my coping mechanisms, and I also made an effort to get into the same headspace that I was in seven days ago. I tried to think some reassuring thoughts, read my list of the Ten Things I Tell Myself Every Day, attempted to give myself some perspective on each situation, etc. Nothing seemed to help. I wasn’t consciously aware of any negative changes in my daily routine, and honestly I didn’t feel like anything at all had really changed in my life since last Monday (much as it hasn’t these past several months). And then, because I couldn’t understand why I was feeling frustrated in the first place, I started to become more frustrated with myself just for feeling frustrated.
If you have a more laid-back personality, or if you find yourself to be generally in tune with your emotions, then this will probably sound a little strange to you. However, I am not laid-back, and more often than I’d like to admit, I’m not in tune with my emotions. I have had to learn that when I start to feel the sting of an uncomfortable emotion, I have to physically stop what I’m doing and force myself to address whatever it is that’s making me feel bad, sad, or mad (yes, just like a third-grader). This may sound inefficient at best or obsessive at worst, but trust me, it’s a better strategy than the ones I've employed in the past. Previous approaches consisted of repressing the feeling, trying not to notice as it festered and ballooned in size, and then watching as it eventually emerged in the form of an emotional outburst in response to some unrelated event (remember when Christian Bale literally had a meltdown on the set of Terminator Salvation? Yeah. He gets it).
So today, because I have the emotional IQ of a fruit bat, I made myself sit down and write out a list of all of the things that were bothering me. To my surprise, it was not a brief exercise. Once I had really started going, I couldn’t stop myself. The complaints ranged from my own personal petty grievances (I don’t like any of the contestants on this season of the Great British Baking Show), to the crushing realities that brutally reinforced the painful nature of our species’ collective existence (Star Wars Episode IX was a terrible end to the reboot, and we all deserved better from J.J. Abrams).
And here’s the part of the essay where things would turn a corner. I would normally say something vaguely inspiring about how I managed to defy all of the odds and boldly muster up the emotional resilience necessary to do some deep breathing, or maybe some yoga, or to meditate.
But instead, I got a migraine and ate half a bag of white chocolate chips before falling asleep while watching an episode of the Great British Baking Show (yes, even though I still hate all of the contestants this season. I’m no stranger to martyrdom).
Bottom line: I’m not perfect. I’m not an expert. I’m not always healthy. I don’t have all of the answers. Every day I have to remind myself that being a healthy person doesn’t mean that I’m always going to feel good about myself or where I am in life. Being a healthy person means feeling every emotion that comes my way without letting it take over my life. That is the cornerstone of emotional regulation, and as a Highly Sensitive Person, it's something that I struggle with on a daily basis.
So today, I’ll sit in my frustration. I’ll wade around in it a little bit. I’ll make myself comfortable with the discomfort. And we’ll start over again tomorrow.
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