Feb 18th 2016
My emotions are abnormal. in People suck. Cats are awesome. Dogs are alright.
- Feb. 18, 2017, 2:02 p.m.
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- Public
I think the only things I really “love” are my cats.
I had an idiotic wannabe therapist intern “recommend” me for dialectical cognitive behavioral therapy, then fail to tell me what it actually is. When I asked, he just assured me that it would be really helpful. So I looked it up when I got home, and it’s therapy used with borderline personality disorder, (which I *don’t * have), that requires you to identify your emotions, (which I can’t do, about 90% of the time).
So I called this apparently uneducated person back and told him that I didn’t think it would be a good idea, and before I could even tell him why, he talked right over the top of me, telling me to take it up with my therapist, and when I told him that he was talking over me, he said “We’re trying to set you up with services, and you’re putting barriers in the way to your therapy.”, and hung up on me.
So I won’t be going back there, and I’m filing a greivance with his supervisor, and I left him scathing reviews, (inclding his name), on their Facebook and Google reviews pages.
But it got me thinking about my “feelings”. Do I even have any, in the usual sense of the term?
When I argue with the husband, it’s always from a perspective of “my facts are correct, yours are wrong”. There’s never any “feeling” about it, until he insults me. Then it’s not an added feeling, but a subtraction. I stop seeing any need to be polite or considerate, because it’s a break in the unspoken contract of our relationship, and I am therefoe no longer under any obligation to be any nicer to him than I would be to a stranger. - I don’t get mad. I literally get even. - So that our arguments quickly degrade into insult matches, which just as fast escalate to the point that there’s nothing left to say but “get out!”, except that we co-own the house, so we just go to our separate rooms. - But even at that point, I’m not “mad”, per se. I just sincerely wish he’d hurry up and have a heart attack, or actually leave me. - Typically, the following day, he’ll bring me a nice plate of something he’s cooked for me, and I’ll interpret that as an apology, and we’ll be civil again. - This happens about once every ninety days, give or take.
The thing is, when we’re not fighting, I spend time every day thinking about the likelihood that I’ll out live him, and I dread the idea of living alone. Is that worry and fear? I dunno. But I hate it, and I try to flush it out of my head with interesting articles or workking on my art or whatever.
But when he’s been insulting me, I’m free of that. The “worry” of him having a heart attack is gone. And it’s nice. I like sitting here in my room, not giving two sh!ts whether he lives or dies. I don’t sit here and stew in anger. I’m more content than I am on other days.
So I don’t think I “love” him. I think I appreciate him, a whole lot. And it’s nice to have someone to watch movies and eat with, and realistically, I’d probably be very sad if I lived alone. - Aha! A feeling!
But I only get “sad” maybe once every few months, too, and when I do, I have full on meltdowns, bawling until my throat hurts. Then it passes, and that’s that.
But if I ived alone, I’m guessing those would happen more often. I might think that I’m a failure of a person if I were all by myself.
And to be fair, I have “angry” meltdowns, too, which is why I wear earplugs or head phones when I go out. Generally those are caused by overstimulation; too many people talking, certain kinds of music, that sort of thing. And they result in me screaming and breaking things. I keep old ink pens just for that purpose.
But I have no “irritation”. I go from feeling nothing and politely telling someone to leave me alone, to full on, heart racing, looking for something to break. That’s a “meltdown”. Not just a “feeling”.
No feeling, or so much that I’m a danger to myself and others. No middle ground.
But if I’m not having a meltdown, the only thing I really “feel” is the warm, fuzzy, sensation when I hold my cats, or a dread of the future, when I’m trying to go to sleep.
I shake when I have to go to new places, but it’s a physical conditon, not an emotional one. I know I’m nervous because i shake, the same way that I know I need to use the bathroom when my bladder is full.
I’m never really “happy”, or “sad”. My mother used to say that “maybe you’re happy sometimes and you just don’t know it”, and “you should smile more”. But if she could see what it’s like inside my brain, she might disagree.
I get disssatisfied with myself, if I don’t get anything done all day. I feel comfortable sometimes, sitting in bed. I laugh at things that I find funny. I get a “woo hoo” feeling when I find something really cool that I’ve been looking for. I have a sense of responsibility towards my dog, and my cats.
But I think “normal” people have a much broader spectrum of emotions than I do. I don’t think it’s merely an inability to identify emotions. I think a lot of them just aren’t there.
Last updated February 18, 2017
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