To Feel

The other day, I read an article about the importance of Feeling One's Feelings, even under circumstances when one does not have an adequate in-person support group, and even when there is not anyone there to help one sort through the feelings or to provide emotional support. I theoretically understand this concept: it's not good to keep things bottled up, for a variety of reasons. And also, not feeling things tends to lead to overuse of other coping mechanisms that may not be the best (such as, for example, eating one's feelings -- not that I know anything about that). 

At the same time, I find myself thinking: Feelings? In this economy? Oh, honey, no.

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To feel Feelings -- to REALLY feel them -- seems like a luxury that so many of us can ill afford. We're doing our best to get through the complexities of Pandemic life, trying to stay safe, trying to socially isolate, and absolutely wilting under the worry and the isolation. Add to that the normal, every-day worries of so many people: going to Work; paying bills; paying taxes; watching elderly and frail relatives become more elderly and more frail; trying to ensure the safety (and facilitate the lives) of offspring, whether big or small; navigating routine medical care. There is so much on everyone's plates. To take a moment to FEEL things would be dangerous: what if you let one Feeling out, and all the rest escape, like the flight of the evils from Pandora's Box. 

So we numb ourselves and march forward, one step after another, hoping vaguely in the back of our minds: let this get easier. 

We find peace in the small moments -- right this second, everything is OK. It's fleeting, but it helps.

We contemplate Feelings in the car, because it seems like the only place to be safely vulnerable: one feeling at a time, contained and protected within the vehicle, partially felt because of the need to focus on the road as well. 

It's the best we can do.

No wonder we are all so Tired.

In so many ways.