I never learned to express my feelings well, aside from writing them down. It’s like there is a wall of insulation somewhere around me that prevents me from telling the people in my life what I feel. I grew up taking care of my emotional well being myself and albeit that is a great capability, it makes you lonely, or can make you lonely. This is not to say I grew up without love in my life, on the contrary. I had fantastic people who love and loved me dearly but I still can’t look you in the eye and tell you what I feel or need because that would admit to not being self sufficient or something of that sort.
I will, hoewever, communicate with you in written form, all kinds of written form actually, because that I can do. I have been writing down and expressing myself through scribbeled words all my life and it has the advantage of time. (a) I can take my time thinking about what to say, change the order of words and delete those not fitting in after all and (b) you can read it without me being present or with me, but you can do it on your own time and I feel less like a pusher.
I have hardly ever written a poem that was not about love and most of them were terrible; still are (if you don’t believe me, see for yourself). But, to me, poetry is the only form of coming close to capturing and recreating the feelings surrounding being (hopelessly or not) in love. I’ve had this stored on my phone for over a year now, alsmost 1.5 years, maybe even longer, and never completed it but that’s not the point.
She’s like pixie dust for your heart
With a face like a doll
And a smile brighter than the sun
She moves in iambic pentameters
With her scarf dancing in the wind
behind her while she walks
She’s graceful and dorky at the same time
Simply being without looking as if she’s trying
My point is something I don’t know as of yet because sometimes (a lot of the times) I just start writing without knowing where it will take me but that’s in itself the point of these posts and by extension of this blog. (I wish writing my reports at work would come to me as easily as writing these posts but alas.)
Funnily, the book I’m currently reading has gotten me thinking about this again. It’s not a particularly great book but also not a bad one. It just pinged something in my brain at the right time.
There are many times I have wanted to ask a friend I was around to just hug me or hold me for a moment but I never did it/ do it. I was scared of sounding stupid or the person on the other end thinking to themselves what a weirdo I must be or worse yet, denying my request.
As much as I love babies, whenever one of my co-workers bring their kids around, I would never dare to ask to hold it becuase I’m afraid it would not like me. Or maybe that I’d do something wrong with it or the parents wouldn’t want me to hold it so I just stand there. Not getting past that feelings insulation of mine while cursing inside because it is dumb and of my own stupidity.
I have been struggeling with this for a long time and not yet managed to find a way to escape the limitations of my verbal expressinalism. Maybe I never will. At least I’m aware of it so that’s a start.