It was until about a year ago when it was hard to feel; I just didn’t know it.
In Myers-Briggs personality world, you’re either: A thinker, a feeler, or evenly split between the two. I’m officially classified as a thinker, but what the 4-letter diagnosis doesn’t touch is why and how I got to be one, nor because of some things and despite others. Of course, I think a succinct diagnosis is always a good thing. But it’s been a recent crazy exploration of the “F” side of me that has been largely untouched for the other 95% of my life.
Feelings are an unstable phenomenon. You just can’t count on them. Hell if they can earn you a living. But they sure can make you feel alive. And after awhile comes the real danger, when you break the dam of it all. You just might be thirsty to only be alive.
Feelings are unpredictible but they are truth. There is no process to test if feelings are rational or not - chances are, they’re not. There’s no way to contest that they’ve occurred and will occur in the future. But it’s a common phenomenon these days to think that feelings just get in the way of the ultimate goal of what we think we want. We might think we want (ok, or actually desire) “stability.” It’s as if sanitizing the path were the ultimate goal in achieving some sort of utilitarian utopia. So really - is that what we really want? To become machinists of comfort? Because it sure seems as though the actions we take are reflecting that way.
“What do you feel?”
To correct the patterns of the past, it’s a question that I’ve been becoming accustomed to - whether it’s asking myself, asking friends I’m having conversations with. There is no fear anymore that acknowledging feelings will yield crazy results in action, or that being honest about them will fail to impress the right people. I am flat-out sick of thinking I have to impress. In fact - and I’m not talking about pouring out sob stories to perfect strangers, here, but - the right people will accept you where you are in the right doses. I can do without everyone else. In the end, failure to acknowledge them now will definitely yield crazy, unpredictible results in the future from having boiled beneath the surface.
When you ignore your feelings, you become disconnected to your passions. Following your passions is a volatile path. Shouldn’t we strive to conquer that fear? As they say - being courageous isn’t being void of fear; it’s overcoming those fears that makes one courageous. Isn’t purely living, though, just worth it? And if we have any faith in anything, shouldn’t it be in the idea that things will be okay as long as we’re following our passions?
(Is money really your passion? Seriously? And how much money is enough and can you honestly say that that number won’t change in the future? What are you really chasing, here? What is keeping you from being happy or passionate now? Greed? And if it is - I’m fully supporting that you acknowledge that and come to terms with that, and also what lies behind that.)
Because comfort - if indeed that’s what we’re all striving for - yields complacency and I don’t really know that I want to give myself that sort of cushion. Too often is responsibility equated with not taking risks, or even being bound by the expectations of others or yourself. But as in economics, without risk there just is no reward. Examine where the so-called obligations came from - does it include saying No to your own wants and needs? I think that if we could simply just be in the business of fulfillment, we’d all be much more … well, fulfilled. And feelings are just as much a part of that as our think patterns.
So when I ask you, “How does that make you feel?” I can’t promise that I’m not being Therapy Worldly Facetious. But now you know that it’s coming from a conversation that’s deep inside and I do mean it seriously on at least some level. 
It’s because I’m officially an advocate of feeling and being alive.
6 Comments
To me at least, what I feel is my passion. I’ve left myself no other room but to be driven by the very thing that I feel. This of course leaves very little room for people that accept me for who I am, leading to a solitary existence despite my yearning for more.
What I feel has always been the anger and frustration of not being “good enough”. My passion has always been to reach beyond the stars. Sometimes that kind of negativity fuels our dreams beyond all expectations. The question is how many people can live with the consequences of what they will do and what they will become?
Maybe then a solitary existence makes sense. Especially when you don’t want to hurt the people you want to befriend and watch them turn into the monster you already know you are.
@Edrei: It’s ever so apparent in your writings - so that’s a testament to the content of your blog.
I hear what you’re saying on not being good enough. It’s both a burden and motivator, isn’t it?
As for solitary existences, I would sooner die. The hurt is temporary to me, and it’s worth coming out the other end, I’d like to think. If you think about it, we don’t learn when things are cushy - only during our trials.
it’s been a while since i took my brigg-myers, but i think i was INTP or INFP, but i think it boils down to me always being confused…i think the biggest problem for me is that as i’ve gotten older, it’s really hard to find what really moves you…i can think of a million things i don’t like, but for the life of me, i have no idea where my passion or purpose is in life…i know it shouldn’t be as easy as a light switch flicking on, but it sure wouldn’t hurt if it hit me that way…
@khaos_07: I know what you mean. I’ve definitely been there, and come to slowly realize that that’s where you begin - with what you don’t like. Because like everything else, you have to narrow things down in one way or another.
Even now I am only beginning to find things I truly like. I think that we remember what we can cross off our lists because they get such sharp reactions within ourselves. Even when we’re left with things we like, we have to narrow those down (prioritize) too…
For a really long time I was proud of the fact that I would run away from my emotions and feelings; it was almost proof to me that I was really a guy. I’ve lived so long without facing my feelings that by the time I was forced to deal with some crazy shit all at once, I had no idea what to do with all these emotions that I was feeling.
I’m supposed to avoid stress now. I’m not supposed to get too worked up. But, to me at least, what’s the point in doing all of that? I finally have some drive and ambition in me. I don’t want to run away from anything or bottle it all up or over-analyze everything. I just want to feel. I don’t want to be a machine or robot anymore.
It’s a really hard transition to go from being a thinker and over-analyzer and purposefully avoiding any emotion or feeling to someone who embraces them. But it’s starting to work, it can be done, and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I’m truly enjoying being so open with others but most importantly with myself.
@Josh: I truly know what you mean about running away from emotions. I used to think it was as easy as cutting out that part of your life. I’ve come close to writing a bit about sabotaging situations as a way of ruining things for yourself before they could be ruined for you. But indeed - these things catch up with you when you don’t deal with them head on, as we’ve learned. Thanks for being so honest. Indeed this is such tough work … also from observing others (in addition to myself) I’ve come to realize that when we’re not honest with ourselves about emotions and whatnot - or anything really - it’s impossible to be honest with other people.