Growing pains: thoughts on feelings

Whenever I think of the word "feelings"  my mind automatically goes to the first five words of the song "Feelings by Louis Gasté, 1973.  "Feelings, nothing more than feelings..."

WOW.  That's a blast from the past, isn't it? 

Embedded in my memory are those five words and the tune.  In my journey of late, this is the area I am concentrating on.  Let me admit to you -- this is hard work. 

Now, as you read this, you might think:  "You are a woman.  All you have are feelings and you are in tune with them being of the female gender."  I will admit.  I  have feelings, but I am not always in tune with them.  That's the problem.

Oftentimes it's hard to even put into words what I am feeling, so I have taken to carrying around a feelings chart I found online.   Words mean things to me -- and being able to identify what is passing through my mind and heart and spirit is meaningful to me -- and hard work.  In the past, I have buried my feelings until they have come up and out like a volcano (not always in a positive manner).  Now, on this leg of my journey, I am understanding that healing and moving forward means acknowledging what I am feeling and speaking it.   Good, bad, or ugly -- name it.  Don't judge it.  Name it.

Now this might sound kooky -- but  am beginning to practice naming things.  I look around and see things and name them.  Then I ask myself -- how does that thing, person, event -- whatever I named -- make me feel in this moment.  Not what it made me feel in the past.  Not what it might feel like tomorrow -- but right now.  The words I use go beyond your basic feeling words of sad, happy, angry -- and become more specific:  joyful, disappointed, loving, valuable, confused, and so on.

Blogging these very thoughts makes me feel vulnerable.

I believe that being able to name what I am feeling, not what I am thinking (which comes much easier for me), is part of my healing.  It is part of beginning to trust myself and others.  It is part of recognizing who I was created to be.  It is the foundation of being able to love in the agape way.  I want to grow in my relationships and in order to do that, the growth starts with me.

My therapist gave me homework.  I am to start thinking about and finish the following statement: 

"I feel _____________, when you _______________.  I need _______________." 

This is one of the hardest homework assignments I have ever done.  To not only have to NAME my feeling but to point out what brought that feeling on -- AND say aloud what I need (which is also extremely hard for me to voice) is exhausting.  It also is freeing.  It is teaching me I can acknowledge how I am feeling and what brought that feeling on  without laying blame -- and also frees me to say what I need in that moment.

I am experiencing growing pains.  This journey isn't all about smelling the roses.  Sometimes the path gets muddy and I have to get stuck in the mud and lose my shoes before moving forward out of the pit to more solid ground.

There she goes...

A few minutes ago our college girl left for the second semester of her freshman year.

I miss her already.

It's funny how time seems to pass quickly when you are in the throes of moments  in your life you want to last and last.  Those moments where you are eking out every second -- because  you know it will never be captured again….until the next time...which will be different.  This moment is the only time you will have this moment. 

I think back to when I was a kid.  I grew up in the rolling hills of the State of Ohio.   It was the perfect place to spend hours outdoors.  There was much to do outside...trails to hike, streams to walk in, hills to bike, trees to climb and everything else that living in the country has to offer.  One of my summer time memories is of catching fireflies in the evening and putting them in a jar.  I would carefully poke holes in a jar lid so as to let them breathe after I had caught them.  They would rise up out of the ground by the thousands -- and it was a wonderful sight to see them glowing as they lit up the night.  After catching enough to make the jar glow bright, I would take the lid off the jar and set it on the ground and let them escape at their own pace.  Sometimes they immediately flew out and away.  Other times, I would come back to my jar in the morning and there would still be one or two left inside.

This past month  I got to see Moriah's bright light glow as she was home on break.  I loved seeing her every day -- even when she came home from work exhausted.  I loved having her at the dinner table with her brothers and listening to them tease and joke and share.  I loved watching them interact, seeing the hugs they would share and witness their teamwork in the kitchen.  I loved watching Christmas Hallmark movies with her as she painted her nails.  I loved hearing her stories from her workplace and talking about the next semester and what was in store.  The house was brighter with her light adding to the mix.

Today, as Moriah was driving down the lane, I felt much like I did as I released the fireflies.  I loved the glow of the fireflies and enjoyed their presence.  Yet, I knew I had to release them.  I knew that I had to share their glow with the rest of the world or else they soon would lose their light.

Go shine in your world, my daughter.  Your light is very, very bright.