Emotional Constipation
As it turns out, the world is still too big, and I am just this guy. It's both frustrating and encouraging to see how poorly I control my emotions. Frustrating only in the sense that everyone pretends they can control their emotions, so I feel like I should be able to too. Encouraging because I'm realizing that control should not be preventative; rather, it should guide.
It serves no one to pretend anger doesn't exist, but a person can guide his anger to productive conversation or cathartic exercise. It serves no one to pretend sadness doesn't exist, but a person can guide his sadness into expressive creations or deep reflections. We even like to suppress our joy because it can seem out of the ordinary or because so many around us are bitter or because it may feel childish.
So much emotional constipation. Bleh. Go paint. Go write a poem. Go sing a song. Go scream inside your car. Go do something. The painting doesn't have to be a masterpiece. The poem doesn't have to elegant penmanship. The song doesn't have to stay in key. You just need to stop your emotional constipation or you'll crap all over something and/or somebody.
Too much crap.
Go take a nap.
It serves no one to pretend anger doesn't exist, but a person can guide his anger to productive conversation or cathartic exercise. It serves no one to pretend sadness doesn't exist, but a person can guide his sadness into expressive creations or deep reflections. We even like to suppress our joy because it can seem out of the ordinary or because so many around us are bitter or because it may feel childish.
So much emotional constipation. Bleh. Go paint. Go write a poem. Go sing a song. Go scream inside your car. Go do something. The painting doesn't have to be a masterpiece. The poem doesn't have to elegant penmanship. The song doesn't have to stay in key. You just need to stop your emotional constipation or you'll crap all over something and/or somebody.
Too much crap.
Go take a nap.
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