Emotions Galore
“I do exist, don’t I? It often feels as if
I’m not here, that I’m a figment of my own imagination. There are days when I
feel so lightly connected to the earth that the threads that tether me to the
planet are gossamer thin, spun sugar. A strong gust of wind could dislodge me
completely, and I’d lift off and blow away, like one of those seeds in a
dandelion clock.”
—Gail Honeyman
Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed told me to write what I know, so this is what I know. I’ve always been too emotional and hypersensitive. I once cried for an entire afternoon when my mom lost her anklet diving into a lake. I had no real emotional attachment to this anklet—it was just her favorite that summer and she lost it and that made me overwhelmingly sad. I also once had a full-blown emotional breakdown when I came home from the bookstore to find that one of my books was damaged after a woman fell onto my bag when the bus took a wide turn (I was much older than you would’ve liked me to be, too). Again, no real emotional attachment to the book that was damaged—I exchanged it for another one the very next day—but the fact that something I loved was tentatively ruined or lost made me cry. Perfectionism! Ruins lives!
Some kids are emotional and sensitive. This is nothing new. Some have much less of a thicker skin than others and both peers and parents often notice this very quickly. But I didn’t cry when someone took my crayons or made fun of my artwork. Real bullying—which I did experience for most of my time in grade school—didn’t trigger emotional outbursts. I didn’t cry uncontrollably on my first day of kindergarten like most did. I cried uncontrollably when I forgot that it was “pizza lunch” day and my mom had sent me to school with my usual packed lunch. I was so upset that a classmate’s mom offered to bring my lunchbox home to my mom and only then could I enjoy my pizza. Adults, mostly women, always sympathized and considered it an asset that I was sensitive and cared so much that the sandwich my mom lovingly packed for me would somehow go to waste. But the world tries to whip that sensitivity out of you at a certain point.
As I grew up, the idea of real responsibility outside of school scared me. I just convinced myself that what I was feeling didn’t make me special or peculiar and so I just internalized all those feelings until my bubble of anxiety finally burst. Like I said, I had no real desire to grow up. I had an idea of what I wanted to be “when I grew up,” but I just didn’t realize that would become reality one day. I purposely retained a childlike understanding of things and still retreated under blankets to watch Disney movies when things stressed me out—but that honestly isn’t saying much when literally the smallest of responsibilities that required me to act like a grown-up for just an hour would push me over the edge. I remember I only started driving school classes merely because people who were younger than me were already getting their learner’s permits, so I figured I better do it, too. But I had no real desire to learn how to drive, get a job, or be an adult in any way, shape, or form. It was all just a new wave of “things you have to do” that I didn’t ask for. I really didn’t ask to grow up, but I can’t return my adulthood, because clearly I’ve lost the receipt.
I’ve always felt things deeply and totally. When you’re a child, being emotional or sensitive isn’t unexpected. But when you’re an adult, it’s actually really hard to find your footing as an emotional and sensitive person. You’ll also learn that anxiety is kind of a package deal when you’re already emotional and hypersensitive. When you finally do accept the inevitable arrival of adulthood and real-life responsibilities despite still feeling like a child, becoming easily overwhelmed is a wonderful new personality trait you’re just going to have to accept with open arms. It sounds really obvious and logical since children growing into adults has been around as long as humans have, but the transition from childhood world to adult world is harder than teen dramas on The WB wanted you to believe. When you’re simply sensitive and easily overwhelmed, you have to know your limits. You have to know where to draw the line, when to say no, and when something is too much. You have to learn to drown out the noise of other people who are going to tell you that you’re not doing enough and could be doing more. You have to learn what’s good and works for you—not others—and figure out how to be confident in that. You have to figure out how to tell yourself that you are enough and what you’re doing is enough, because the alternative isn’t pretty. The alternative of that for me was a dark place where I resided, telling myself that I was simultaneously doing too much and not enough and I would never feel fulfilled if I didn’t keep living in that place inside my head. Anxiety is a liar, self-doubt is a liar, and the voices inside your head are lying to you. You are enough, you’ve always been enough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
But you will also learn that being anxious and feeling everything deeply often comes with the flipside of sometimes feeling absolutely nothing at all, and even forgetting how to function because your brain is so tired from being on guard all the time and telling you to commit to your compulsive behaviors that, in the end, achieve nothing. And that’s okay. Feeling everything deeply, let alone feeling anything, is tiring. Feelings are exhausting. Believe me when I say, it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about it. Listen to “Vienna” by Billy Joel, remind yourself that the world isn’t going to grind to a halt if you take a break, watch 13 Going on 30 and cry a little, rewatch old Roseanne episodes, and try to convince yourself that this is what you need to rest and recover. Remember that it’s okay to not be okay, and when life is a raging dumpster fire, you’re allowed to give up. Hell, giving up at any point is okay if what you’re doing is not worth compromising your physical and mental strength. Giving up, in a way, is allowing yourself not to care anymore which, I can really confirm, is one of the most liberating feelings in the world—especially when you usually care about everything to the point of it being unhealthy. Remember to take care of yourself. Self-care seems to be kind of trendy right now, and for good reason. Self-care is really fucking important! You can’t dedicate the essential parts of yourself to something, whether it’s school or work or whatever the hell else life has thrown your way, and not carve out some time for yourself. Even if you’re an extrovert (a.k.a. aliens to me). Comfort yourself. Is what you’re doing comforting? No? Then get it out of here. I don’t want to see it! Save that new movie you haven’t seen yet for another time. Watch the one you’ve seen eight thousand times and can recite backwards and forwards. It will help. Trust me. And even if it doesn’t help, I can guarantee you it won’t make you feel any worse.
It’s also important to remember that feeling everything deeply and caring about things deeply is just as much a blessing as it is a curse. If you’ve found something that fuels a fire within you, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. You just have to find a happy medium where you can be happy and healthy while pursuing what sets your soul on fire. Remember that sometimes people never find what they’re passionate about, or never have a desire to care about things in any large capacity whatsoever. I’d rather feel every emotion within myself so deeply, deal with the resulting exhaustion, and have such passionate reactions to books, music, and movies than to be indifferent to everything, and feel the need to tear others down who are passionate and feel deeply about something. Let yourself feel all the feelings if you need, because that’s how you’re really going to get to know yourself. Just learn your limits and try not to let the negativity of others and your own head stop you. They’re not worth it, but you are.
“Caring deeply about something is a blessing, so don’t let it torture
you.” —Camila Cabello—Gail Honeyman
Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed told me to write what I know, so this is what I know. I’ve always been too emotional and hypersensitive. I once cried for an entire afternoon when my mom lost her anklet diving into a lake. I had no real emotional attachment to this anklet—it was just her favorite that summer and she lost it and that made me overwhelmingly sad. I also once had a full-blown emotional breakdown when I came home from the bookstore to find that one of my books was damaged after a woman fell onto my bag when the bus took a wide turn (I was much older than you would’ve liked me to be, too). Again, no real emotional attachment to the book that was damaged—I exchanged it for another one the very next day—but the fact that something I loved was tentatively ruined or lost made me cry. Perfectionism! Ruins lives!
Some kids are emotional and sensitive. This is nothing new. Some have much less of a thicker skin than others and both peers and parents often notice this very quickly. But I didn’t cry when someone took my crayons or made fun of my artwork. Real bullying—which I did experience for most of my time in grade school—didn’t trigger emotional outbursts. I didn’t cry uncontrollably on my first day of kindergarten like most did. I cried uncontrollably when I forgot that it was “pizza lunch” day and my mom had sent me to school with my usual packed lunch. I was so upset that a classmate’s mom offered to bring my lunchbox home to my mom and only then could I enjoy my pizza. Adults, mostly women, always sympathized and considered it an asset that I was sensitive and cared so much that the sandwich my mom lovingly packed for me would somehow go to waste. But the world tries to whip that sensitivity out of you at a certain point.
As I grew up, the idea of real responsibility outside of school scared me. I just convinced myself that what I was feeling didn’t make me special or peculiar and so I just internalized all those feelings until my bubble of anxiety finally burst. Like I said, I had no real desire to grow up. I had an idea of what I wanted to be “when I grew up,” but I just didn’t realize that would become reality one day. I purposely retained a childlike understanding of things and still retreated under blankets to watch Disney movies when things stressed me out—but that honestly isn’t saying much when literally the smallest of responsibilities that required me to act like a grown-up for just an hour would push me over the edge. I remember I only started driving school classes merely because people who were younger than me were already getting their learner’s permits, so I figured I better do it, too. But I had no real desire to learn how to drive, get a job, or be an adult in any way, shape, or form. It was all just a new wave of “things you have to do” that I didn’t ask for. I really didn’t ask to grow up, but I can’t return my adulthood, because clearly I’ve lost the receipt.
I’ve always felt things deeply and totally. When you’re a child, being emotional or sensitive isn’t unexpected. But when you’re an adult, it’s actually really hard to find your footing as an emotional and sensitive person. You’ll also learn that anxiety is kind of a package deal when you’re already emotional and hypersensitive. When you finally do accept the inevitable arrival of adulthood and real-life responsibilities despite still feeling like a child, becoming easily overwhelmed is a wonderful new personality trait you’re just going to have to accept with open arms. It sounds really obvious and logical since children growing into adults has been around as long as humans have, but the transition from childhood world to adult world is harder than teen dramas on The WB wanted you to believe. When you’re simply sensitive and easily overwhelmed, you have to know your limits. You have to know where to draw the line, when to say no, and when something is too much. You have to learn to drown out the noise of other people who are going to tell you that you’re not doing enough and could be doing more. You have to learn what’s good and works for you—not others—and figure out how to be confident in that. You have to figure out how to tell yourself that you are enough and what you’re doing is enough, because the alternative isn’t pretty. The alternative of that for me was a dark place where I resided, telling myself that I was simultaneously doing too much and not enough and I would never feel fulfilled if I didn’t keep living in that place inside my head. Anxiety is a liar, self-doubt is a liar, and the voices inside your head are lying to you. You are enough, you’ve always been enough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
But you will also learn that being anxious and feeling everything deeply often comes with the flipside of sometimes feeling absolutely nothing at all, and even forgetting how to function because your brain is so tired from being on guard all the time and telling you to commit to your compulsive behaviors that, in the end, achieve nothing. And that’s okay. Feeling everything deeply, let alone feeling anything, is tiring. Feelings are exhausting. Believe me when I say, it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about it. Listen to “Vienna” by Billy Joel, remind yourself that the world isn’t going to grind to a halt if you take a break, watch 13 Going on 30 and cry a little, rewatch old Roseanne episodes, and try to convince yourself that this is what you need to rest and recover. Remember that it’s okay to not be okay, and when life is a raging dumpster fire, you’re allowed to give up. Hell, giving up at any point is okay if what you’re doing is not worth compromising your physical and mental strength. Giving up, in a way, is allowing yourself not to care anymore which, I can really confirm, is one of the most liberating feelings in the world—especially when you usually care about everything to the point of it being unhealthy. Remember to take care of yourself. Self-care seems to be kind of trendy right now, and for good reason. Self-care is really fucking important! You can’t dedicate the essential parts of yourself to something, whether it’s school or work or whatever the hell else life has thrown your way, and not carve out some time for yourself. Even if you’re an extrovert (a.k.a. aliens to me). Comfort yourself. Is what you’re doing comforting? No? Then get it out of here. I don’t want to see it! Save that new movie you haven’t seen yet for another time. Watch the one you’ve seen eight thousand times and can recite backwards and forwards. It will help. Trust me. And even if it doesn’t help, I can guarantee you it won’t make you feel any worse.
It’s also important to remember that feeling everything deeply and caring about things deeply is just as much a blessing as it is a curse. If you’ve found something that fuels a fire within you, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. You just have to find a happy medium where you can be happy and healthy while pursuing what sets your soul on fire. Remember that sometimes people never find what they’re passionate about, or never have a desire to care about things in any large capacity whatsoever. I’d rather feel every emotion within myself so deeply, deal with the resulting exhaustion, and have such passionate reactions to books, music, and movies than to be indifferent to everything, and feel the need to tear others down who are passionate and feel deeply about something. Let yourself feel all the feelings if you need, because that’s how you’re really going to get to know yourself. Just learn your limits and try not to let the negativity of others and your own head stop you. They’re not worth it, but you are.
“Listen to the tiny voice inside your head. Unless it’s trying to tell you that you’re worthless. Then, fuck that voice. That voice is an asshole.” —Jenny Lawson
(Recommended listening for this essay: “Lightweight” by Demi Lovato and “Easier Said” by Alessia Cara)
Follow It's Not That Deep on Instagram — @areyouthereanxiety — and listen to my playlist of mental health songs on Spotify and Apple Music
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