Let yourself feel and People that made me not
Be emotional. I know that sounds weird to say, but it's true. I went a large chunk of my life thinking that I should only show positive emotions. I should only be happy, surprised, excited, content, etc. The only negative one that was acceptable was anger, which I will talk about later. I believed (for a long time) that if you became sad, scared, frustrated, or hurt, well you should hold that in. That you should bottle it up. I learnt this from various places: TV, family, friends, social media, to name a few. I know that my family or friends did not mean to make me into a 'negative-emotion-canister', but it happened.
Some of my best friends when I was younger were good friends, but they had problems like I did. They didn't think very highly of themselves, so I think they would transfer that belief onto me. I remember wanting to achieve things, or do something potentially fun and new, but they wouldn't want to do it with me. They would put me down, like I was an extension of themselves. They would focus on the positive (safe) and push the negative (unsafe) into a closet and shut the door. I don't blame them now, I understand that they had a lot on their plates. Coming from rough homes and going through rougher schools. It ain't easy. I don't see them very much. We drifted like everyone does when people get older. Responsibilities come to fill up your time. Though, recently I was able to connect with one. They outwardly told me that they hated how they were back then. That they were sorry about how mean they could be. I told them it was OK. When you're a kid, do you really understand what you're doing?
My father was a similar case. He seemed to be always happy. When he wasn't happy, he was angry. He didn't take it out on me (I count myself lucky he wasn't that kind of person), it was adults who frustrated him. The sort of mentality of: "He's an ass-hole, so I must become an angry ass-hole so he gets what he deserves." Or, one expression from him that I will always remember is "I won't start it, but I will sure as hell finish it." That sums up his philosophy pretty well. He's an older man coming from a different time when aggressiveness was seen better, I think? Still now, he gets like this. Like he needs to impress me with this showmanship. Maybe not. Maybe it's just habit, a nasty habit from a younger and more reckless him?
I can't recall if I ever saw him cry, but it must've been when I was really small. Maybe when my parents divorced. During my formative teenage years, I started piecing together the emotional puzzle. Finding clues that he wasn't just this 2-dimensional axis of Happy-Angry. Self-help books would occupy table space, talks with my aunt (his sister) and mother about him, and the finding of medication to help with depression. It made me feel bad for him, but also it helped me see he wasn't a static-unchanging person. He was complex, like everyone is. But, although this revelation helped, it was too late. I still learnt from him to adhere to that strict 2-dimensional axis.
When I became a teenager (probably when I was younger too I just can't remember), I fought against this aggressive, anger-fueled side. I understood from experience that rage was bad, dangerous, and infectious. It's one of those emotions that can get addicting, like continually adding logs to a raging fire. So I rejected that side of myself. I decided if I was angry, I would keep it in. I wouldn't lash out at anyone, harm anyone, or even verbally attack someone. Even if they deserved it, I would keep my ire in.
[TV and society did affect me. Though I won't be focusing on them right here. This could be its own long post.]
This didn't work like I thought it would. My step-father, who came into my life when I was young, was an anger machine. It didn't take much to get him hot-headed. He would yell at you for the smallest things. When you're young, or at least when I was, I believed that I must've been in the wrong. Why would an adult, much less a parent, yell if not because I was wrong? I endured this for years, trying to tiptoe around to make sure not to set him off. When I got older, left the house, and got a partner, things changed. When I came back to visit, the familiar surge of anger would surface. But now, I understood I wasn't in the wrong. That I was an adult with boundaries. That it was a gross overreaction. I will leave it as that. I might finish this later when I'm comfortable and can find the proper words.
Up until a few years ago, I kept this now 1-dimensional axis of Happiness. I eventually added sadness to this developing system of acceptable emotions. I came to accept that to be sad, was not to be less of a person, less of a functioning member of society. This re-found emotion fuelled my new passion, poetry. I wrote to work through the sadness that I had allowed to well up inside. This welling up did explode out of me one night with my partner before my new foray into being an "unofficial legislator of the world". I cried for probably an hour. Everything that ever upset me came overflowing out of me. It felt nice, a weight off my chest.
I am currently working on myself. I have been accepting my emotions as they come, but it's hard to rewire your brain, your habits after so many decades. It might take the same amount of time to fully unlearn them. But, I will always work on myself, because I believe you (as a person) is never a finished project. I am grappling with other emotions from my past, relationships, beliefs, traditions, expectations, and everything else. I will constantly seek to improve myself. To be comfortable in my emotions, no matter if they are positive, negative, simple, or complex.