There's Irish blood and Welsh blood running through my veins and I credit it for my sense of humor and as well, for those days when I feel a bit brooding. It's definitely not unhappiness that I experience but rather I know that it's going to be a rather quiet sort of day; where I take a little time to be by myself and to just let my emotions settle into their rightful place, before I can offer my self to the world.
As I sit here, trying to do my very final piece of work in one academic subject (with mixed feelings about that too) my mind is wandering over numerous works of literature ranging from Soul Mountain to Angela's Ashes to Brooklyn and To Kill a Mockingbird. There's no requirement that I compare these novels but it does occur to me that within these novels there are plenty of examples of contained emotions.
I think my mind has focused in on this thought because I feel like my emotions are now contained. It seems to be what people want of me. I'm highly functional. I'm pleasant to be around. I'm upbeat and chirpy. I don't complain. I am polite and I give people what they want. I ask little of anyone. I have trained myself not to have expectations. I recognize that I can't control anyone. Although I recognize I may be able to influence them positively, I do no more than that.
If I am sad, or if I have a worry, I take myself away to deal with that emotion. I may meditate a while or do some little thing that I know will have a positive effect on that emotion. I may walk with the dogs, or listen to uplifting music to heal my troubled or restless thoughts.
I can't remember the last time I took a concern to another human being and asked for help; well not help exactly, but just worked on the basis that they'd listen to me. I might mention a little trouble to a female friend but always on the basis that I knew what I was doing. I had it under control; no big deal.
If I'm really desperate to be heard, one human being to another, I mention my concern to my mother but I have to be desperate. She's an old lady now really and my worries become her worries so it isn't fair for her to think that life for me is anything but one jolly big party.
I've come to recognize lately that we all need to be heard. We need to hear other people talk about their emotions, positive and negative. I think I come off as not having any worries because people bring their concerns to me but don't seem to think that I have any of my own. Which is true really, in a fashion. The children are all in good order and I am happy within myself. I have been remarkably happy lately.
Except, that I am troubled about this restraining of my emotions. It doesn't seem healthy. It doesn't seem to occur to my husband, for example, to wonder if there is anything happening below the surface. Can she really be so settled, so happy, so strong, resourceful and resilient all the time? Is that really her?
In the past few days I've been so missing my Dad. Prone to high emotion himself he was someone I could talk to and rely upon. The last time we talked was on the phone. By then, he was in a hospice and I rang him, desperately needing to hear his voice. He was in his own fantasy land. He was staying in a very nice hotel and the girls there were looking after him very well. I played along. Eventually, he told me he needed to go. One of the girls was there needing to do something. I told him I loved him and I said goodbye. I held onto the phone. I just knew I would never hear his voice again and I couldn't put down the receiver.
Then I heard his voice again, fainter this time.
"That was my daughter calling from America."
He had known it was me. Knowing that meant so much to me.
It is desperately sad for a daughter to lose her father, No-one ever loves you the way your Dad loves you. No one ever really wants to listens to your troubles ever again. It has been my experience that it pays to be stoic; to be strong; eternally happy around even those that love me.
At the completion of her novel Lee Harper writes,
"His (Atticus) hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, rucking it around me."
"Most people are (real nice), Scout, when you finally see them."
He turned out the light and went into Jem's room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning."
When I think of my Dad I think of the flowers he would bring me when I was very ill in hospital. I think of him breaking into tears at the hospital to see me so unwell and I think of how quietly and calmly he went about calling the doctor when I told him the next morning after flying out to see my parents that I needed to go straight to the hospital because my condition had returned.
I remember him telling me, when he found me crying about a boy, that he was no good anyway and there were plenty of fish in the sea, and I remember him telling me one day that he wanted to buy me a dress and going and choosing a dress with him. Mostly, I remember that he was there for me and that he loved me very deeply.
There are days when I wonder how I came to be the age I am and how it came to be that I needed to be so strong that my tears are not for anyone else to see.
As I sit here, trying to do my very final piece of work in one academic subject (with mixed feelings about that too) my mind is wandering over numerous works of literature ranging from Soul Mountain to Angela's Ashes to Brooklyn and To Kill a Mockingbird. There's no requirement that I compare these novels but it does occur to me that within these novels there are plenty of examples of contained emotions.
I think my mind has focused in on this thought because I feel like my emotions are now contained. It seems to be what people want of me. I'm highly functional. I'm pleasant to be around. I'm upbeat and chirpy. I don't complain. I am polite and I give people what they want. I ask little of anyone. I have trained myself not to have expectations. I recognize that I can't control anyone. Although I recognize I may be able to influence them positively, I do no more than that.
If I am sad, or if I have a worry, I take myself away to deal with that emotion. I may meditate a while or do some little thing that I know will have a positive effect on that emotion. I may walk with the dogs, or listen to uplifting music to heal my troubled or restless thoughts.
I can't remember the last time I took a concern to another human being and asked for help; well not help exactly, but just worked on the basis that they'd listen to me. I might mention a little trouble to a female friend but always on the basis that I knew what I was doing. I had it under control; no big deal.
If I'm really desperate to be heard, one human being to another, I mention my concern to my mother but I have to be desperate. She's an old lady now really and my worries become her worries so it isn't fair for her to think that life for me is anything but one jolly big party.
I've come to recognize lately that we all need to be heard. We need to hear other people talk about their emotions, positive and negative. I think I come off as not having any worries because people bring their concerns to me but don't seem to think that I have any of my own. Which is true really, in a fashion. The children are all in good order and I am happy within myself. I have been remarkably happy lately.
Except, that I am troubled about this restraining of my emotions. It doesn't seem healthy. It doesn't seem to occur to my husband, for example, to wonder if there is anything happening below the surface. Can she really be so settled, so happy, so strong, resourceful and resilient all the time? Is that really her?
In the past few days I've been so missing my Dad. Prone to high emotion himself he was someone I could talk to and rely upon. The last time we talked was on the phone. By then, he was in a hospice and I rang him, desperately needing to hear his voice. He was in his own fantasy land. He was staying in a very nice hotel and the girls there were looking after him very well. I played along. Eventually, he told me he needed to go. One of the girls was there needing to do something. I told him I loved him and I said goodbye. I held onto the phone. I just knew I would never hear his voice again and I couldn't put down the receiver.
Then I heard his voice again, fainter this time.
"That was my daughter calling from America."
He had known it was me. Knowing that meant so much to me.
It is desperately sad for a daughter to lose her father, No-one ever loves you the way your Dad loves you. No one ever really wants to listens to your troubles ever again. It has been my experience that it pays to be stoic; to be strong; eternally happy around even those that love me.
At the completion of her novel Lee Harper writes,
"His (Atticus) hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, rucking it around me."
"Most people are (real nice), Scout, when you finally see them."
He turned out the light and went into Jem's room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning."
When I think of my Dad I think of the flowers he would bring me when I was very ill in hospital. I think of him breaking into tears at the hospital to see me so unwell and I think of how quietly and calmly he went about calling the doctor when I told him the next morning after flying out to see my parents that I needed to go straight to the hospital because my condition had returned.
I remember him telling me, when he found me crying about a boy, that he was no good anyway and there were plenty of fish in the sea, and I remember him telling me one day that he wanted to buy me a dress and going and choosing a dress with him. Mostly, I remember that he was there for me and that he loved me very deeply.
There are days when I wonder how I came to be the age I am and how it came to be that I needed to be so strong that my tears are not for anyone else to see.
I am a very calm, centered person by nature and not bothered by the highs and lows that plague so many. I am grateful to have this type of disposition. But there have been times it has worked against me, when I was too strong, too self-contained, too much in control of my emotions and feelings. The most dramatic time was during the last several years of my marriage. It was my self-defense mechanism, a way for me to steel myself against what was happening around me.
ReplyDeleteHappily I am in a much better place now, and as a result I have been freed to cry, to show emotion and to be okay with being weak. I have always felt things very deeply, but allowing it to surface for me, requires safety.
Your words about your father resonate. Mine died many years ago, but yes the love runs very deep.
Susan
Susan: I'm very glad that you are in a better place. I used to show too much emotion so to that extent I am pleased that I am in more control of my emotions now. On the other hand, it seems the more I contain my emotions the more it appears that I am no longer in need of sometimes expressing negative emotions. I sometimes wonder if it ever occurs to people such as my husband that it may be too much of a change and that I must surely occasionally appreciate a shoulder to cry on. It mystifies me.
ReplyDeleteAnyone would appreciate having a safe place to vent, a shoulder to cry on as you say. It is only human. Perhaps your husband is too enmeshed in his own struggles to see your need.
ReplyDeleteSusan
Susan: He means me no harm but he has a tendency to preoccupation whilst I have a tendency to attempt to be stoic until and unless the stoicism comes to an abrupt end, which tends to lead to an emotion like sadness. I do best in a very D/s dynamic where there are regular check-ins but given that's not possible all the time, maybe I am the one that has to do the 'checking in'. It's not my preference but it's the best possible outcome in the circumstances, I think.
ReplyDeleteSubmissive girls need an outlet for their submission. If a suitable outlet is not available then I think problems are going to occur. In my opinion, as long as a girl is submissive and remembers her place, she is quite entitled to point out potential problems, in fact it may well be her duty to do so.
ReplyDeleteA girl might have to be far more proactive than she would like to be, but she might have to politely argue a case to have some form of control measure put in place. It would be a good idea if she had an idea in her own mind what a minimum control measure might be before she started that discussion.
Something I am working on in my own life is asking for what I want/need. It doesn't come naturally to me, but I am getting better at it the more I practice. I understand that your husband means well. : )
ReplyDeleteSusan
Anon: Can you explain what you mean by a "control measure" please?
ReplyDeleteSusan: I get the sense it is making a big difference to you to acquire this skill. I can see that I *appear* capable, self-controlled and independent and that's probably worked against me in all sorts of ways with all sorts of people. I'm working on 'asking' because I agree with you that it's an important skill to acquire.
ReplyDelete