Learning to Swim
I remember feeling. A lot. As a child and then as a teenager. I would still cut off plenty of my own emotions, but I know I felt more deeply then than I did in my early twenties. I was like a child in a kiddie pool. I was cautious but reasonably comfortable.
My late teens brought severe depression and anxiety. Then I got married, a month before I turned 20. I thought I knew what I was doing. I really, honestly believed I was ready. But it took a lot of convincing. I think the biggest thing was that I had never felt loved like that before and I was afraid to lose it. I was afraid to let go of the love I had for someone else. I wanted to love and be loved that much. Letting go of that seemed like losing a piece of my soul and I didn't know how to live through that kind of loss. So I clung tighter, despite a good handful of red flags.
The depression and anxiety prompted a serious distrust of my own feelings. Making the choice to get married, in the midst of confusion and anxiety, led to further distancing myself from my own emotions. I believed my feelings just made me miserable. I tried to feel the happy ones and ignore or even hate the "bad" ones. I feared the water. I climbed out of the pool and stared into it, one hand in the water, remembering the feel of dunking my head in. Missing it, but reassuring myself I was safer on the outside.
As I got older and my relationships continued to evolve, I kept doubting myself, kept shaming myself for feeling things that other people didn't like or agree with. I wanted others to be happy with me and I wanted to believe that they could and would take care of me. I trusted their words more than I trusted my gut.
I think I told myself that part of growing up is leaving "childish" emotions behind, or at least subduing them. I thought I knew how to act so that people would think I was mature, wise, capable. I decided that if I could act that way, it was the same as actually being that way. So I quieted my feelings and found a shadow of satisfaction in doing all the "right" things. I pulled my hand out of the pool and walked away, feeling like a real grown-up.
Imagine my dismay, then, as I start to work my recovery and find that I actually need to let myself feel all these things I'd convinced myself were foolish and unhelpful. I need to climb, not back into the kiddie pool, but into an olympic-size pool. I need to not only acknowledge my feelings intellectually, but also allow my child self to feel them fully. That's scary. I haven't comfortably, naturally let her do that for I don't even know how long. I haven't submerged myself in the water for years, and now it's time to learn to swim.
I'm finding as I dip my toes in, though, I'm feeling more connected, more confident, more empathetic. I'm still plenty terrified and regularly resist letting myself feel things fully, but my feet are starting to get used to the water. I'm afraid to jump all the way in, but I can't learn to swim if I don't get comfortable in the water.
My late teens brought severe depression and anxiety. Then I got married, a month before I turned 20. I thought I knew what I was doing. I really, honestly believed I was ready. But it took a lot of convincing. I think the biggest thing was that I had never felt loved like that before and I was afraid to lose it. I was afraid to let go of the love I had for someone else. I wanted to love and be loved that much. Letting go of that seemed like losing a piece of my soul and I didn't know how to live through that kind of loss. So I clung tighter, despite a good handful of red flags.
The depression and anxiety prompted a serious distrust of my own feelings. Making the choice to get married, in the midst of confusion and anxiety, led to further distancing myself from my own emotions. I believed my feelings just made me miserable. I tried to feel the happy ones and ignore or even hate the "bad" ones. I feared the water. I climbed out of the pool and stared into it, one hand in the water, remembering the feel of dunking my head in. Missing it, but reassuring myself I was safer on the outside.
As I got older and my relationships continued to evolve, I kept doubting myself, kept shaming myself for feeling things that other people didn't like or agree with. I wanted others to be happy with me and I wanted to believe that they could and would take care of me. I trusted their words more than I trusted my gut.
I think I told myself that part of growing up is leaving "childish" emotions behind, or at least subduing them. I thought I knew how to act so that people would think I was mature, wise, capable. I decided that if I could act that way, it was the same as actually being that way. So I quieted my feelings and found a shadow of satisfaction in doing all the "right" things. I pulled my hand out of the pool and walked away, feeling like a real grown-up.
Imagine my dismay, then, as I start to work my recovery and find that I actually need to let myself feel all these things I'd convinced myself were foolish and unhelpful. I need to climb, not back into the kiddie pool, but into an olympic-size pool. I need to not only acknowledge my feelings intellectually, but also allow my child self to feel them fully. That's scary. I haven't comfortably, naturally let her do that for I don't even know how long. I haven't submerged myself in the water for years, and now it's time to learn to swim.
I'm finding as I dip my toes in, though, I'm feeling more connected, more confident, more empathetic. I'm still plenty terrified and regularly resist letting myself feel things fully, but my feet are starting to get used to the water. I'm afraid to jump all the way in, but I can't learn to swim if I don't get comfortable in the water.
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