As I drove home from work I noticed I was feeling pretty good, definitely tilting positive on my spectrum of moods. Not by much, but enough that it caught my attention. I was also fried from my hectic afternoon but I wasn’t stressed. Overall not a bad way to end the day given how overworked and overwhelmed I’d felt lately.
Then something shifted in my mind and a memory broke loose from the past. It came out of nowhere and all of a sudden it was all I could think about. There was this kid in high school that used to call me everyday back then, sometimes several times a day. He’d always want to hang out but I never did. He was relentless about it and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I didn’t want to. That kind of directness terrified me, so I avoided him the best I could by not picking up the phone or asking my siblings to tell him I was out when I wasn’t.
This all came rushing into my mind as I drove and my chest flooded with shame. ‘I was such a coward’ was my first thought. But then I softened. I’ve become gentler with myself the past couple of years, giving myself the benefit of the doubt, not blaming myself too hard for little mistakes I made as a kid. Isn’t it normal to feel uncomfortable telling someone no, rejecting them when they ask you to hang out? Back then the whole situation had me in knots. I just wanted the hounding to end so I could get back to my life and stop worrying about disappointing others.
The transition from feeling pretty good about my work day to being thrust into a high school memory took about half a second. But it was also more complex than that because on top of all the old feelings I was trying hard to be kind with myself in the moment, to judge myself less harshly than usual.
‘Oh no,’ I thought, not in a hysterical or overblown way but measured, ‘can’t I just put these feelings back where they came from and go back to how I felt when I started the drive?’
Then my mind took it further: ‘I wish there was a big absorbent towel in my chest.’
That way it could soak up all the discomfort and then I could just grab the towel and wring it out, squeezing the embarrassment from my system, every last drop. Removing it just as quickly as it rushed in, not letting it take hold, not letting it ruin what was otherwise a pleasant drive home.
This brought back another memory. When I was fifteen my face was unbelievably oily and overrun with pimples. I had more zits than anybody in my class, big white ones that seemed ready to explode like volcanoes, the white puss pushing out like overly filled balloons about to pop.
At the time I secretly wished for a release valve on the back of my neck at the base. I wanted to be able to squeeze the valve and somehow drain all the oil and puss from my face in one swoop. I wanted to get it all out immediately just like I wanted to wring the towel in my chest. I wanted to go back to feeling good about myself.
But that’s not how it works. You can’t rush these things. They take their own time.
Then it hit me that my chest is more like a chopped down tree trunk than a towel. It was calm and strong and dry as I started the drive, but then I was hit suddenly with a downpour of emotion, leaving my chest waterlogged and squishy.
A waterlogged tree trunk can’t be wrung out like a towel. It might take days or weeks in the sun to dry out. It’s also helpful to give the log shelter so it doesn’t keep getting wet.
I’ve tried so many times unsuccessfully to move quickly through complex emotions by burying them or repressing them. But feelings don’t get resolved unless they’re honored and given the right amount of time and space.
So now I try my best to sit with these feelings, to work with them, to better understand them. I also try to take it further by talking about them because that’s the best medicine of all.
It’s a work in progress, and recognizing the reality of towels and tree trunks feels like a good start. So does striving to be gentler with myself, especially my younger self.
It’s ok too to get soaked every once in a while!