This is one of those posts that I will not want to publish when's it done. This is one of those posts that will seem to plead for reassurance. That's not what I'm after. This is one of those posts that won't be pretty or particularly well-written. But here it comes, people, so watch where you step.
I've been throwing myself into this inner work lately. Bury that anger? Sedate that sadness? Not anymore. I am emoting like a damn sprinkler.
And it's messing with my head. On the one hand, the emotions aren't trapped inside, which, is like, hooray, right? It's a good thing. That's where so much of my anxiety springs from, this restraint and denial of what I'm feeling. So let's get it out, let's put it all out there. Hey, I'm angry at what you just said, and here's why. This is why it hurt me. I'm afraid that I'm going to say that one thing that will feel good as it comes out -- freeing! liberating! I'm voicing my emotions! -- but then will look so ugly and crusted over with the bile of my nasty, nasty anger when it's out there, staring me back in the face.
And so I wonder if it doesn't make more sense to work instead toward the ultimate goal: that moment when my concern is only about opening my mouth and letting the love spill out because there won't be anything else in there. The more that I read this spiritual stuff, the more that I realize how the emotions that I feel aren't really "me." My anxiety is not essentially who I am. My frustration, my judging of others, my self-sabotaging tendencies: they are not the real me. Maybe I should just leap right over this emotion-spewing step because it just leaves me feeling raw and mean.
But here's the thing: I am so wrapped up in this material existence right now that not only can I hardly conceive of this ultimate goal of peace, there are moments when I don't even think I want it. Some days I don't want to change.
It feels like I'm moving backwards, embracing the emotions like this even when they don't come from a loving place, but that's just where I am right now. I want to keep getting angry, and I want the permission to show it.
But there's more, and it's not pretty. I am filled with jealousy and envy and self-loathing and self-aggrandizing. It's exhausting. Sometimes I don't want to be a good person if it means I have to give up wielding power over people to make myself feel good. I want to be desired. I want to be the most beautiful woman in the room, and I want everyone to know it. I want men to try to leave their girlfriends for me, and I want to tell them no and eat up that power like a damn hot fudge sundae. I want to sabotage myself again and again because I like the comforting ache of defeat. I want to keep staying up until 3 a.m. and sleeping until noon, knowing that I've always already ruined the next day. I like having something to fix, something to complain about. I like having something external to blame because I can't shake the belief that inside me it's just ugly, and mean, and competitive, and so. incredibly. self-absorbed.
I've spent so much of my life avoiding conflict, sacrificing my own desires to please people and trying to be a good, unassuming person that I feel like I missed out on being whoever the hell I want to be. Even if who I want to be doesn't look so pretty on the inside.