For The Women Who Feel Too Much

Thought.is
Thought.is

When I decide that I want something, I end up needing it. My passion gets the best of me. A single, stray thought quickly flourishes into an obsessive idea that won’t leave my mind. With me, it’s all or nothing. I either feel too much or nothing at all — there is no in between.

If I say the wrong thing, no matter how insignificant it is, I’ll dwell on it for hours after the other person has walked away. And if I don’t say anything at all, if I keep quiet even though I had something to contribute to the conversation, then I’ll chastise myself for being so shy. I can’t win. I speak, I regret it. I shut up, I regret it. 

When I crush on someone, I go full-force. I spend my nights reminiscing on the moments we’ve shared and spend my mornings planning on how to get them more involved in my life. On how to turn them from a friend to a boyfriend. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want the relationship to develop gradually. I want it to happen now now now. 

If I get mad at someone, I toss out every curse word I can think of (as long as they’re out of hearing range). I’ll cry and whine and complain for a half-hour and then instantly get over it. Or, sometimes, the bitterness will linger. It will refuse to abandon me. And it will rise up, like bile, whenever I see the face of the person that hurt me. It won’t be a controllable rage. It will be all-consuming and unreasonable. It will be downright stupid.

I call myself unemotional, pretend to be strong, but the right song can spark a series of tears. And when I’m really, truly upset, over a boy or an argument or a death, it feels like the world is trying to squeeze me out of it. Like I don’t belong there. Like there’s no point in trying to swerve past all the barriers that the universe has plopped down.

That’s why, when I start drinking, I don’t stop. I don’t take a sip, because I enjoy the taste or because I want to loosen up. I do it, because I want to feel something. Something different than I usually do. Something happier, lighter, better.

I criticize myself for being overly emotional. For caring too much. I wonder if my life would be different if I could last a day without freaking out over something small, without looking into every little thing, without wishing I wasn’t ruled by my emotions.

But then there are days when I feel numb, vacant, empty. When I can’t get myself to laugh, to cry, to blush, to feel. And on those days, when I can’t summon up the will to care, I wonder which is best: To feel nothing at all or to feel it all? TC mark

The truth is that you can be struggling and still be loved.

You don’t have to solve your whole life tonight. You just have to show up and try. Focus on the most immediate thing in front of you. You’ll figure out the rest along the way.

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