Emotions: Reflections From The Kitchen Sink
by Melinda Campbell
Sometimes I worry I’m getting socially numb. It’s not that I don’t get emotional about some things. I can fall apart over a few words in a comedic sitcom episode, so it’s not that I don’t feel. It’s just that the feelings feel different to me since I’ve become a widow. (And some folks are now wondering what the heck I just said and why anyone would pay me to write lol!) What I mean is there is a hiccup of sorts to every emotion I experience. Let me see if I can whittle on this a bit and at least make a pointy stick.
I’ve noticed a shallowness of sorts to my feelings. I am not disconnected by any means; however, I just can’t seem to jump off the diving board into the complete submersion of emotions anymore. I want to. I truly do. But I’m like a five-year-old hydrophobe standing hang ten on the edge of the pool. My toe knuckles are white I am clinging tightly to the concrete. Big girl is not jumping in whether I’ve got floaties on or not! Maybe dividing the heart issues will help make my point.
It is as if sad emotions have a stopping place for me as I often feel I could never be sadder than I was the morning I heard the deputy say that Michael was gone. Now, I’m not inviting life crises to try this out for me by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just that the bottom dropped out of my life that morning. I’ve tried to pull myself up and seem to avoid emotional avalanches. The last few years, I have purposed myself to not let go of the jagged staircase I’ve climbed. It is quite the challenge though on the slippery slope.
It’s perhaps odd to some that even my happy emotions have a cut-off, too.
Even after all this time, I’ve not had that jumpstart moment that will allow me to experience untethered joy. Have I been happy? Yep. Have I been proud? Yep. Have I been amused to the point of laughing tears? Sure have. I have not figured out how to allow those feelings of contentment to linger.
I don’t discount the influence of earlier traumas in my life in terms of this emotional bondage I’m experiencing. Michael’s sudden death just was the final switch flipper…or to keep with the first analogy, the final sharp object to the pool float, and there doesn’t seem to be enough Mighty Mend-It tape to fix it.
So what is next? I don’t have a clue. Maybe a new float when pool supplies go on sale? Maybe some swimming lessons? A lot of folks don’t like the stigma of therapy, but maybe my therapist can hypnotize me and get me out of my fear of water! (She doesn’t do hypnosis really, but that sounds like a cool plan.) Heck, maybe someone will get brave enough to try to push me in one day. I imagine I will cling like a baby monkey clinging to its mama if and when that ever happens.
Folks in the emotionally sequestered world need to stay aware of our feelings right now during the pandemic. There was enough yuck prior to the isolation created by this mess. Trying to center ourselves daily is key, I think, to pushing through.
Which is one reason I start my days here at the sink…coffee in hand, of course…have a blessed Sunday.
until next time…
Remember any thoughts shared here are my personal experience and are not medical advice of any sort. If you are feeling emotionally burdened, please seek the care of a medical professional.
All Reflections from the Kitchen Sink posts are written by Melinda Campbell. Melinda is a retired educator who currently focuses her efforts on raising her two teenaged boys, advocating for individuals with special needs and against drunk driving, and serving in her local community. New Kitchen Sink Merchandise-Click Here?
