Opening the Door to the Emotional Everything
So much of my adult life has been filled with worry. More responsibility, which has been good, but also…more worry. It’s like I’ve carried around this bucket labeled Worry, and over time, it’s only gotten bigger. And somehow, I’ve always managed to fill it.
Now, when I look back at old photos, I only see the good. But I wasn’t fully in those moments. I was too busy worrying about things that mostly never even happened.
Feb. 28, 2021, LA Arts District
Some worry has been useful e.g. the kind that nudged me into action. But somewhere along the way, I picked up worry for worry’s sake. Useless worry. The kind that robs me of the present moment.
(Holy shit — have I had crushing anxiety this whole time?)
This ties into something deeper I’ve been working on: emotional intelligence. And I’ll be honest, this journey started late for me. In my early and mid-30s, thanks to my wife, I began to (finally) realize just how emotionally shut off I’d been. It started with my Mom’s passing when I was 8. I shut down, and never dealt with my emotions about it until now. And growing up, like a lot of men, I got really good at suppressing emotion, especially pain. But I didn’t realize that when I numbed the bad, I also numbed the good.
I was a terrible receiver — of compliments, favors, joy. I didn’t let myself feel excitement or gratitude, because I wouldn’t let myself feel sadness or hurt. I was emotionally flatlined, capped on both ends.
So, I started letting myself feel more. And it’s been good. But with that comes…more everything. The highs and the lows. Even silly things — like whether I tightened the 997’s oil drain plug enough (or too much!) — become little stress points. I used to think much more simply. Now, even joy comes with a trace of anxiety.
That’s the tradeoff: when I opened the door to feelings, I didn’t get to choose what walked in.
But I’m learning I can feel everything without letting it run everything. Just like I’ve started to name and label my emotions, maybe I need to start naming my stress too. To sit with it, acknowledge it, and see that most of it is unfounded. Still a massive WIP.
Maybe that’s the next step. Not less feeling. Clearer seeing instead. Or more filtering once emotions step through the door. Something like that.
And a little more presence for the laughs, the drives, the dinners, the coffee. Because this moment — right friggin’ now — is the only one I’m actually living in. Everything else is a memory or projection into the future.
