I’m absolute shit when it comes to talking about my feelings. This may be surprising, given my line of work. I literally have been trained to talk about feelings.
Not gonna lie, I’m pretty confident in my abilities to get people to share. Doesn’t matter if I’ve known you for 5 minutes or 5 years. You’re gonna tell me some shit. It’s why I chose this line of work, I’ve always felt this natural ability, even as a young warthog.
People share in the strangest places. I’ve had strangers tell me all their business on the subway. I’ve had grown men cry to me about the women they love in crowded bars. It’s an occupational hazard, I suppose.
I’ve come to realize that there’s a reason why I write. I’m not good at talking about feelins. Not my own anyway. Much prefer to write a letter, a blog post, a text, an email. In person, I clam up, I stutter, I sweat. It’s not cute.
I think I’ve always tried to be sensible about relationships. I feel fairly self-aware of who I am. I know exactly what I want. I know what I bring to the table, and am aware of my shortcomings. I’ve always assumed that I’d be ready and open when IT happened.
Except I wasn’t. IT happened, and it smacked me in the mouth. It came on slowly, like a small flame. Then it ignited; it could not be contained, it could not be controlled. It was like this weird realm of being that I had never experienced. I wanted to hold it up in my hand, analyze it, run my fingers over it, explain it. I wanted it to make sense. The more I tried to contain it, the more it grew. It overwhelmed me. Like how?! Why?! What is this? I found myself unable to concentrate on anything else. I just knew shit was different now, that I was different now. But everything was bigger, brighter. Life had so much more possibility, because of this human.We existed in our own little world. It was baffling. I wanted to tell everyone, ‘hey! this shit is real ya’ll! Look at this! I wanted to laugh and cry, and scream. I wanted to tell the world.
A few things I’m learning. As with everything in life, relationships are work. Like forreal guys, so much fucking work. All the talks about all the feelings. Where is this going. How do you feel about this. Blah blah. Jesus.
Sometimes, it hurts. Like falling down the stairs, or really bad heartburn. Tears are involved. YA’LL DIDN’T TELL ME ABOUT THE TEARS.
I’m also learning a lot about how I communicate, and what I need. I definitely am learning to advocate for myself in this space. I’m learning how to be more considerate. I’m learning the importance of space. I’m learning patience.
I wouldn’t be authentic, doing this work, writing about love and relationships, if I didn’t write about how I’m navigating this space myself. It’s been a long time since I really FELT anything. Who better to share it with then you guys?
But guys, wanna know something? It’s lowkey pretty awesome. I know I’ll never be the same again.
To be continued…