In my effort to try to employ more daily positive thinking, I came up with a list of eight "affirmations" that I wanted to read every morning. I did not choose these words lightly; it was a process of going through old journals and figuring out the things in life that I did truly believe but often have trouble remembering - the lessons I learn over and over again because they tend not to "stick" with me (for whatever reason).
Of course, reading them every morning lasted about a week (if that). But every once and a while, I do go and reread them, and today I'd like to focus on two. (I'll get to the other six in later posts, as I have time.)
1. My emotions matter and are entitled to expression.
2. It is a relief and a joy to feel vulnerable around others.
What I mean with these is that "bottling up" my thoughts/feelings (in general or about a specific event) should not be my default. Instead, I should feel comfortable (especially around those I care about, and who care about me) expressing those thoughts and feelings.
I often downplay my emotions - to the point where I might not even understand how I feel about something, because I haven't let myself figure it out. If there's something exciting on the horizon, I don't let myself get too excited about it - just in case it doesn't work out. If there's something aggravating or distressing, I pretend I'm unaffected, that I'm "above" such things as the "weakness" of showing emotion (a topic that the novels I'm working on definitely addresses). Even if I'm happy - whether because of something I'm proud of, or because I'm sharing in someone else's happiness - I tend to "hold myself back."
I suppose this could be a genetic personality trait - there have to be some people who are just naturally less emotional than others - but in my case I definitely think it's learned behavior.
Honestly, I can't imagine anyone not learning that behavior. Men are told that "boys don't cry" and are discouraged from showing emotion (perhaps with the exception of anger, the only emotion seen as "masculine" in nature). Women not being told this does little to prevent the same result. The reason men are deterred from displaying emotion is because such action is seen as "feminine."
When "feminine" is an insult (as it is in our society), it doesn't really matter if you're a man or a woman demonstrating those traits - it's weakness. Men are supposed to be "above" that weakness because they are "above" women; but women too, if they want to be taken at all seriously, have to go to great lengths to distance themselves from such "weaknesses" and prove that they are not like "the rest of their sex" - as if all members of a sex, or any group, are ever identical.
I want to be one of the few, not one of the many. I want to be "great" - to be successful, to be understood as intelligent, to get at some core of the human existence that many fall short of finding, to "make a name for myself," to influence. In this country, in this world, in this era of history - the power tends to go to the emotionless. Our leaders are not compassionate; they're robots.
But what happens, then, when I do feel something, something that can't be buried under stoicism? More likely, it's not one thing, but a culmination of many - little daily annoyances or grievances or celebrations, all shoved down layer by layer on top of each other, until my heart is full and can't hold any more, no matter how trivial the thing. This is why I end up crying over a printer jam (it's always crying for me, whatever the corresponding emotion) - not because I think a misbehaving piece of technology is the end of the world, but because I haven't let myself acknowledge my emotions in too long, and this minor frustration is one time too many.
It is better to acknowledge my emotions as they happen. This doesn't mean crying over every little thing - because, actually, I find that little things don't warrant crying so much when they're acknowledged individually, periodically, every day. It simply means taking a moment and realizing that oh yes, this thing is frustrating me, or disappointing me, or upsetting me - or, oh yes, that is something I'm excited about, or proud of myself for, something that should be celebrated. It's not a thing worthy of a sob-fest (or a momentous party), but it's also not nothing, despite my tendency to treat it as such.
1. My emotions matter and are entitled to expression.
I word it that way so that I cannot argue it. If I were to say "I am entitled to express my emotions," it would be too easy for me to logic my way out of it on a day I was feeling down on myself. (Am I entitled to my emotions? Am I entitled to anything? Should I be? Should anyone?)
I picture "my emotions" as separate from myself, needy children that need to be acknowledged. I am doing them a favor by taking a minute out of my day and saying "Yes, I hear you. I see you. You're right - this is frustrating. You're right - this isn't fair." When I ignore the emotion, it still has power. When I confront it, accept it, acknowledge it - only then will it lose it's power so I can move on with my day. As Carl Jung said, "What you resist persists."
Of course, my emotions aren't tangible, real things that have feelings of their own. It's really myself I'm doing the favor toward. But I'm often more likely to do something if I think it'll help someone else, than I am if I think it'll help myself.
The second affirmation works in tandem with that first one - and does appeal to the idea of helping myself.
2. It is a relief and a joy to feel vulnerable around others.
If I am willing to be "selfish," and the first affirmation doesn't convince me to acknowledge my emotions, this second affirmation will do the trick.
This statement is evidence-based. Looking through old journals, it becomes clear that despite how anxious I am about "revealing" something about myself before I do so, it is always relief and joy I feel afterward - that once I am open and honest, once I allow myself to acknowledge my emotions and "be vulnerable" with my friends and family, the negative emotions disappear.
You'd think after this happening so many times, I would have realized this sooner and stopped getting anxious about sharing aspects of my life with other people. Instead, I have to reread this affirmation to remind myself; I have to use this affirmation to convince myself not to be anxious, and to just go ahead and share.
To be clear, I am not saying that "feeling vulnerable" is a positive experience - or something that should be done lightly. I am only saying that it often leads to better relationships, given that it is done in a safe, loving environment, and that looking back on the moment of vulnerability in hindsight I am always, without fail, 100% glad that it happened.
These "moments of vulnerability" take many forms. Voicing an opinion, admitting a feeling, sharing a story I've written or a favorite book that I've had a personal response to with someone that I trust, etc. Often, it is that I'm worried someone will judge me or think less of me if they know something about me - even something as mundane as "I sometimes cry when my printer jams" - but once I share, I find that others appreciate my sharing, relate to what I'm saying, and indeed, even feel the same way I do. It might seem insignificant to care about something so small, but it really is a relief to express frustration over a small, daily occurrence, and learn that I'm not alone in my reaction.
Of course, reading them every morning lasted about a week (if that). But every once and a while, I do go and reread them, and today I'd like to focus on two. (I'll get to the other six in later posts, as I have time.)
1. My emotions matter and are entitled to expression.
2. It is a relief and a joy to feel vulnerable around others.
What I mean with these is that "bottling up" my thoughts/feelings (in general or about a specific event) should not be my default. Instead, I should feel comfortable (especially around those I care about, and who care about me) expressing those thoughts and feelings.
I often downplay my emotions - to the point where I might not even understand how I feel about something, because I haven't let myself figure it out. If there's something exciting on the horizon, I don't let myself get too excited about it - just in case it doesn't work out. If there's something aggravating or distressing, I pretend I'm unaffected, that I'm "above" such things as the "weakness" of showing emotion (a topic that the novels I'm working on definitely addresses). Even if I'm happy - whether because of something I'm proud of, or because I'm sharing in someone else's happiness - I tend to "hold myself back."
I suppose this could be a genetic personality trait - there have to be some people who are just naturally less emotional than others - but in my case I definitely think it's learned behavior.
Honestly, I can't imagine anyone not learning that behavior. Men are told that "boys don't cry" and are discouraged from showing emotion (perhaps with the exception of anger, the only emotion seen as "masculine" in nature). Women not being told this does little to prevent the same result. The reason men are deterred from displaying emotion is because such action is seen as "feminine."
When "feminine" is an insult (as it is in our society), it doesn't really matter if you're a man or a woman demonstrating those traits - it's weakness. Men are supposed to be "above" that weakness because they are "above" women; but women too, if they want to be taken at all seriously, have to go to great lengths to distance themselves from such "weaknesses" and prove that they are not like "the rest of their sex" - as if all members of a sex, or any group, are ever identical.
I want to be one of the few, not one of the many. I want to be "great" - to be successful, to be understood as intelligent, to get at some core of the human existence that many fall short of finding, to "make a name for myself," to influence. In this country, in this world, in this era of history - the power tends to go to the emotionless. Our leaders are not compassionate; they're robots.
But what happens, then, when I do feel something, something that can't be buried under stoicism? More likely, it's not one thing, but a culmination of many - little daily annoyances or grievances or celebrations, all shoved down layer by layer on top of each other, until my heart is full and can't hold any more, no matter how trivial the thing. This is why I end up crying over a printer jam (it's always crying for me, whatever the corresponding emotion) - not because I think a misbehaving piece of technology is the end of the world, but because I haven't let myself acknowledge my emotions in too long, and this minor frustration is one time too many.
It is better to acknowledge my emotions as they happen. This doesn't mean crying over every little thing - because, actually, I find that little things don't warrant crying so much when they're acknowledged individually, periodically, every day. It simply means taking a moment and realizing that oh yes, this thing is frustrating me, or disappointing me, or upsetting me - or, oh yes, that is something I'm excited about, or proud of myself for, something that should be celebrated. It's not a thing worthy of a sob-fest (or a momentous party), but it's also not nothing, despite my tendency to treat it as such.
1. My emotions matter and are entitled to expression.
I word it that way so that I cannot argue it. If I were to say "I am entitled to express my emotions," it would be too easy for me to logic my way out of it on a day I was feeling down on myself. (Am I entitled to my emotions? Am I entitled to anything? Should I be? Should anyone?)
I picture "my emotions" as separate from myself, needy children that need to be acknowledged. I am doing them a favor by taking a minute out of my day and saying "Yes, I hear you. I see you. You're right - this is frustrating. You're right - this isn't fair." When I ignore the emotion, it still has power. When I confront it, accept it, acknowledge it - only then will it lose it's power so I can move on with my day. As Carl Jung said, "What you resist persists."
Of course, my emotions aren't tangible, real things that have feelings of their own. It's really myself I'm doing the favor toward. But I'm often more likely to do something if I think it'll help someone else, than I am if I think it'll help myself.
The second affirmation works in tandem with that first one - and does appeal to the idea of helping myself.
2. It is a relief and a joy to feel vulnerable around others.
If I am willing to be "selfish," and the first affirmation doesn't convince me to acknowledge my emotions, this second affirmation will do the trick.
This statement is evidence-based. Looking through old journals, it becomes clear that despite how anxious I am about "revealing" something about myself before I do so, it is always relief and joy I feel afterward - that once I am open and honest, once I allow myself to acknowledge my emotions and "be vulnerable" with my friends and family, the negative emotions disappear.
You'd think after this happening so many times, I would have realized this sooner and stopped getting anxious about sharing aspects of my life with other people. Instead, I have to reread this affirmation to remind myself; I have to use this affirmation to convince myself not to be anxious, and to just go ahead and share.
To be clear, I am not saying that "feeling vulnerable" is a positive experience - or something that should be done lightly. I am only saying that it often leads to better relationships, given that it is done in a safe, loving environment, and that looking back on the moment of vulnerability in hindsight I am always, without fail, 100% glad that it happened.
These "moments of vulnerability" take many forms. Voicing an opinion, admitting a feeling, sharing a story I've written or a favorite book that I've had a personal response to with someone that I trust, etc. Often, it is that I'm worried someone will judge me or think less of me if they know something about me - even something as mundane as "I sometimes cry when my printer jams" - but once I share, I find that others appreciate my sharing, relate to what I'm saying, and indeed, even feel the same way I do. It might seem insignificant to care about something so small, but it really is a relief to express frustration over a small, daily occurrence, and learn that I'm not alone in my reaction.
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