A few months ago and due to an extraordinary amount of pressure from my best writer friend Nicole, I took a test. A personality test, the kind made up of 100 questions…questions designed to analyze how you generally see the world. The test was divided into four sections that I can no longer remember. But I do remember the results. They weren’t all that surprising, with the exception of one thing. I discovered I’m an introvert (no way really??), I’m creative (again, mind blown!!!), perceptive (um…yes. I can look at a situation and size it up—both good and bad—almost always correctly, usually without anyone saying a thing. ask my children; it makes them crazy), and feeling.
That last one.
Feeling. Big surprise. Huge.
(Insert mounds and mounds of sarcasm here)
I already knew that I am a very feeling person. Anyone who knows anything about me knows this. My family knows this. My friends know this. My neighbors know this. I’m pretty sure the UPS man knows this by the way I react when he delivers my books. As for my friend Nicole, she simply laughed. But even though I knew this about myself, I didn’t realize how many of the decisions I make were based on my feelings. According to the test: 94%.
I make 94% percent of my decisions based upon the way I feel about things.
That’s a lot. And I’m not sure it’s wise, especially when it makes a girl wonder how many of her feelings are even valid. Because, you know, if I’m making life decisions and deciding major goals based on my moods, I kinda need to hope there’s no wild swinging happening too often.
So I began to think of the daily emotions that run through my heart and mind, and here’s what I came up with:
I’m happy. And when I’m happy, words come easily. I write them down, I smile as I do so, and I feel a sense of accomplishment when I reach the end of a daily goal.
I’m sad. I cry about something nearly every day. Sometimes about myself, often about things that have nothing to do with me. And when I’m sad, words come easily. I let tears fall as I write, and again there’s a sense of accomplishment.
I laugh. Life is best when you’re laughing, as the saying goes. And so every day I look for humor, even if on some days I have to look a little harder. Like in a Pinterest post. Or in the fact that I’ve done something stupid yet again—like looking for my cell phone while talking on it.
I feel pain. My own pain. More often the pain of others. I hate the thought of people suffering. And the way I deal with pain is to write. Words come easily when pain is involved. Like therapy…medication…thoughts bleed out of me and onto the page. Every single time.
I get angry. But not for long. Anger sucks and it brings me down faster than any other emotion. Anger drains. Anger divides. Anger eliminates a sense of control. So screw anger. Better yet, anger can ooze into my laptop and stay there. As much as I hate the emotion, anger does sometimes make for the best scenes.
I feel hopeless. Especially when I feel out of control. Or like I’m losing something. Or like I’ve disappointed someone. Or like I’m not good at anything I try. This is a daily struggle, but again…I write to work through it.
I love. I love deeply and fully. I love the good things and the bad things because I long to be loved for those things in return. And when I love, I love hard. And to deal with it, I write. It seems to be my solution for everything.
I forgive. As much as I loathe anger, I hate unforgiveness more. I hate the feeling of holding onto wrongdoings—either the ones I’ve done to others or the ones done to me.
I get over it. This is different than forgiveness, because sometimes there is nothing to forgive. Sometimes there is just disappointment. And when that happens, there is only the ability to move on. This one is hard for me–very hard for me–but it does happen. Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes days, sometimes years. But it does happen.
I hope. For a better today. For a better tomorrow. For happy endings. For brand new beginnings. For stronger friendships. For smoother relationships. For a long career. For a lasting legacy.
I dream. Awake. Asleep. Of stories. Of love. Of life. Of everything.
I have no idea if any of this is good…maybe it’s all bad. All I know is that I feel every emotion to the extreme. Maybe it’s a strength. Maybe one day it will be my downfall.
Then again, as the saying goes:
“I’d rather go through life feeling everything at once than to live all my days feeling nothing at all.”