to katie: about expressing emotions

I am a crybaby, and I'm proud of it.

You will not be surprised to hear me say that. You have seen me cry at movies, television commercials, and while laughing at my own stories. And although you don't remember it, you have seen me cry just because I saw you crying.

I was visiting you in Louisiana, so you were younger than five. You were having a rough afternoon. Rough afternoons happen a lot to little girls who love life too much to let any of it pass them by for naps. Pffff. You laughed in the face of naps. And sometimes you laughed in the face of your mother when she suggested you try to lie still for a while.... And according to your gramma, it's one of the things we have in common.

So therefore, I can predict with confidence that sometime in college, the nap will become your friend.

Anway, back to the story. This particular rough afternoon was the last day I was visiting. I had been there for five days, long enough to fit in to your daily routines. The novelty of me had worn off so much that you had asked to sit by Daddy at dinner the night before instead of me - when I have been there long enough to be taken for granted, I have had a good long visit.

Your mom was explaining what was in store for the rest of the afternoon and the evening, and she came to the part where you guys took me to the airport. You looked up at me in angry surprise, as if to ask, "Are you really leaving?" I nodded that yes, I was really going home, and then you fell backwards on the ground, crying, and said, "But I don't want Aunt Angie to leave!"

It was immediate: you felt angry, and you felt sad, and you expressed it.

What really surprised you, though, is what happened next: I dropped to the ground right next to you, scooped my arms around you, and burst into tears just as quickly, "Oh, Katie, I'm so sorry you're sad. I will miss you too."

It was immediate: I felt sad, and I felt protective, and I expressed it.

Now, usually, children who don't nap very well burst into tears about something at least once each afternoon. But it almost never makes an adult cry too. After you got done looking at me like I was alien for bursting into tears, you decided that I was not making fun of you, and you hugged me back. I comforted you, you comforted me, and then we were both okay to head to the airport.

I treasure that moment for two reasons:

1. It's very sweet to have someone want you around so badly they cry when they find out you are leaving. It was very affirming. It meant a lot to me.

2. I could not always feel my feelings immediately, when I had them, but that day, I could, and it was great.

I think you know that I didn't have an easy family life in high school: Mom got divorced, and my stepbrother and stepsister who'd lived with us for 10 years moved away. And then we had some pretty big disagreements with our father (your mom and I did). There was a lot to think about, and a lot to feel.

One day in high school, I realized that I should be sad about something, but that I couldn't really feel sad. And then I realized that I didn't know the last time I cried. And I started noticing that when I couldn't feel sad, I also couldn't feel really happy either. In fact, for a while, I couldn't really feel much of anything. I was just kind of numb. At some point, I had tried to stop feeling sad, and it made me just stop feeling everything.

And without my feelings to help guide me, I was making some pretty bad choices. Apparently, when my feeler got turned off, my thinker didn't do so well either.

Plus, you know what? It was boring not to feel. I felt less alive. I realized that day that I missed feeling happy more than I disliked feeling sad.

So I set to work to recover my tears. I saw a counselor and told her that my feeler was broken, and that I wanted to fix it. So we worked on letting myself feel my feelings when I was feeling them again, like I did when I was a little kid, instead of bottling them up for later, and accidentally making all my feelings go away.

As with most things in my life, I didn't do this halfway. Once I got in touch with my feelings again, when I felt happy, I would let out big crazy guffaws or snorts or that funny gasping honking sound I make when I'm laughing really hard and can't catch my breath. Some day you may think I have a dorky laugh, and you will be correct, but it is certainly sincere.

And when I got angry, I would find a place where it was ok to yell, or throw soft things (like sand on a beach or pillows in my bedroom). When I got sad, I would suddenly find my eyes filled with tears, which I let myself cry until I was done.

I was afraid that if I started feeling sad or angry, I would never stop. It did not work that way. Eventually, I would get tired out from crying or being angry, and then I would find myself able to make jokes or enjoy funny TV shows, and I felt lighter. Well, once the crying headache went away (ibuprofin and a lot of water).

Then once I had felt my feelings, I found that my thinker worked a little better, and I could choose a little smarter what action I wanted to take next.

Here's what I think is ideal: you feel your feelings first with your unbroken feeler, and then you think your thoughts with your unbroken thinker, and then your chooser listens to your feeler and your thinker, and you end up making good, solid, unbroken choices.

By the way, if you ever take a psychology class, your feeler will be called your "id," and your thinker will be called your "ego," and your chooser will be called your "super-ego." Feeler, thinker, and chooser make more sense to me.

I imagine sometimes that I have a bucket in my chest labeled "Emotions," and when my bucket gets full, I leak out of my eyes. Sure, that makes me a crybaby sometimes. But it also makes me a good friend: when people tell me sad things in their life, they can tell that I am sad for them. And when people tell me funny stories, they can count on me to throw my head back and laugh with them until my sides hurt.

Now, here is a good tip: most people are offended when you call them a crybaby, so you if you see other people who have healthy, active feelers, you may want to tell them they "have a big heart" or they "wear their heart on their sleeve" instead.

Me, however, I call myself a crybaby, but I don't think of it as an insult. I think of it as an accomplishment. I worked hard to feel my feelings when I have them. I wear my crybaby heart on my sleeve, and I am grateful that sometimes my unbroken feeler lets me drop me to my knees to snuggle with people I love when they are sad.

Love,

Aunt Angie