Shortly after I wrapped my series on emotional intelligence, a giant tsunami wave washed over me. I didn’t see it coming, yet it’s not like I hadn’t experienced it before.
Stunned with deep sadness brought on by triggers from things I’ve learned and yet to fully understand, about the places I am tender and feel vulnerable about facing -- the emotions attached to experiences in my life.
For a whole day, I felt as if I were grieving. I gave the emotions that came up my time, focus, and attention. I know from experience, grief has no timeline. If it had arrived, what did it want me to see and feel and acknowledge.
These waves of emotions are powerful when one sets out to write and tell their story, as I discovered while diving into the art of writing memoir over the past ten years. One can have hesitation and countless fears about exposing one’s underbelly to the outside world.
Yet there is nothing quite like wading through the waves of the emotion ocean that surges around you, sometimes knocking you off-balance, to give you an adrenaline rush of fear --loss of control, and at times, helplessness of their power over you.
As it unfolded, the timing was so interesting to me.
I was on the verge of preparing some simple outlines to switch gears -- begin talking about what in my life was managed, not cured, and how that process came to be. The intended focus -- what was revealed to me as lifetime symptoms -- how I faced them, what it takes to survive them, especially in relation to being surrounded by people who simply do not understand, nor want to do so.
It was my intention to write about the inevitable challenges -- how mindsets must change, perspectives deconstructed, the unexpected realization that those who are within your current inner circle, may not be there once the transformation takes place, or at minimum, that interactions and roles played between you, may disintegrate or dissolve, if they’ve been toxic, controlling, co-dependent, or issues of trust and betrayal destroyed any possibility of mending and creating a sustainable relationship.
I put this plan on pause for a few days.
Something told me, whatever I was processing and experiencing would add value to this conversation with insight and ideas.
This is a process I learned to create while writing memoir. It’s part of the process of integrating what you set out to learn about yourself and those who’ve surrounded you, in the past and in the present. It prepares and informs you for the reflections you share about your observations and discoveries.
It’s the method of how we dip into our emotional connection with our writing, our story, our voice, our heart, and our soul, speaking transparently about how the value and worth of our experiences, benefit the reader and in turn, offering them to the world, to make it a more compassionate and understandable place, as we view the human condition.
These thoughtful, soulful, sometimes painful growing spurts are the foundation for sharing our emotional journey – and why that journey matters.
Yet, to be honest, the timing was wrong to talk about this, given my emotional state. If you’d asked me “how does that make you feel?” I would have answered -- like a runaway train heading who knows where.
I knew I needed to allow whatever emotions wanting to come forward, to simply arrive.
Yes, emotions were at the wheel, and I was riding shotgun, watching life and memories –distant and near – pass by.
Writing about certain emotions that I had chosen to explore had triggered me.
Those triggers revealed repeats and repetition of conditions, environments, and relationship dynamics that can hold me back, keep me stuck.
More importantly, some of those emotions are the ones I’ve been fearful and reluctant to face, ever since I began writing.
Evidently, I was being guided and forewarned that the time has come to face them, instead of attempting to brush them away, or numbing myself as to their existence.
I hear some of you saying -- then why in the world would you go back and spend time with those intentionally buried and ignored emotions?
The answer -- to stare those experiences down. By not doing so, they can creep into my attempts to develop new meaningful connections.
One thing is certain.
Triggers are real.
Some will always re-appear.
They are associated with haunting experiences that cannot be erased.
It’s up to me to pause, work through my reaction to those triggers after they take place.
In some cases, that includes disconnecting with certain relationships when someone lacks the compassion and empathy to understand and remember what triggers me.
It’s one of those Managed, Not Cured symptoms of past trauma.
Sights, sounds, smells, and situations can either send you spiraling,
or bring you to a full stop.
I compare it to someone who might have had a knee replacement that never healed properly. There are simply limitations of what you can or cannot do – whether it’s running or a long set of stairs. You modify activities and choices to accommodate the residual symptoms left by your change in mobility.
That’s what I do, too.
I accommodate my level of emotional mobility and recognize it as a symptom.
Rather than fight it, I acknowledge there are some lifetime wounds that prohibit my full range of motion in the emotion ocean. And in case I have yet to mention it, I never learned to swim, because my parents never thought that was an important skill for me to learn.
I am in charge of working through my emotional responses, that brush up against and sting my invisible scars, or the forever-wounds that get bumped by an unexpected trigger.
It’s what I do to create and ensure I am safe, and have a soft place to land, when I am staring down the hard stuff.
This is also part of the discovery process when we take back the stories that others tell about us, or relinquish the fabricated and embellished old story we’ve kept telling ourselves for years to maintain and survive, or when we finally find courage to face the real story of what happened to us, how we survived and got here.
If you are going to commit to exploring your emotional journey, this part and process is absolutely required.
To step away and look at events and emotions from all angles, to try it on and wear it for a few hours or a few days, even if it doesn’t fit you anymore – kind of like method acting.
Or to simply set it down and walk away from it for a time -- see what people and experiences that relate to these emotions come your way, to assist you in changing your lens and perspective. I’ll add – and to do so without self-medication.
Some of you say why bother?
I’ll take that question.
First up -- if you are wanting to become a writer of memoir and a compelling storyteller, you are expected “to put it all on the table,” no holds barred.
In fact, the more details you find difficult to phrase or share, the more secrets you want to keep for you, or someone else – the more you allow resistance to take over – the more you need to dive in, unbury, set free, whatever has been driving your life choices subliminally.
Tough love.
Tough love, with yourself.
You don’t really want to betray yourself, the way others have betrayed you.
Someone’s got to be upfront and honest.
It might as well be you.
Even if you keep the conversation on the down low, only with yourself.
All of this is the next step to growing your emotional intelligence, which will get you through those triggers, influence better life choices, and allow you to transform away from any residual victim mindset, or ego driven mindset that places you in an imagined role of superiority, that you are above such deep introspection.
You’ve gotten away with faking it until now – why rock the boat?
Because sooner or later, that tsunami is coming for you.
When I previously mentioned Brene Brown’s steadfast belief, that not everyone is entitled to hear our story–especially our shame story – that they must earn that right, it made me realize it has become the time I need this type of earned investment from any readers who want to join me in hearing my story, and the process of honest emotional reflection.
I’m happy to discuss freely some life lessons, or parts of my writing process, yet the rest -- the meaningful connection part, the heart-based, lay it on the table part -- I need love and commitment first.
I need to know you’re invested in the outcome whatever it may be, and that you believe in the future of our connection.
It took me a long, long time to realize this.
I learned the hard way, what can happen when I give my body…. of work away, without commitment and love. It absolutely does not work for me.
It’s how I maintain my dignity, respect, and integrity.
It is what I promised my real self, the authentic me, I would create in my world – so it would be a safe place, a softer place, for her to land and stay a while.
So, sometime in the near future, I will be changing the format here -- adding material only for paid subscribers.
This will not only allow me to speak more freely with invested readers, it also will provide a means for reader supported contributions towards my writing life, to supplement costs for professional editors and services for my manuscripts -- the steps needed in getting my work out into the world – and into the hands of those that need it most.
In the meantime, I’m hitting the road for Colorado.
My first grandchild will soon arrive.
I’ll be in touch with more of Managed, Not Cured.
Thank you for Showing Up with me!
Bonnie