I’ve always been a very emotionally reactive person. Even when the reaction is so disconnected and stagnant, it’s because I’ve been so beaten down to such an intolerant place that I withdraw myself entirely and shut down to try to save that last bit of personal essence that I still possess. It all stems from an emotionally charged place.

When I see it in my 2 year old son, how every tiniest of situations is a massively devastating moment, I have an instantaneous montage of flickers, emotional memory bits, a cycle of feels, reminding me how intense I’ve always been. One area especially being boys. Friends is a more controllable area with me because of the continuous cycle of betrayal that I have endured. I’ve become accustomed to feeling that disconnection, no expectations -no disappointment. With guys it’s been different. For the longest time, I never allowed myself to fully bring down my walls because in those moments where I would show my true self, the amount that I would allow myself to care, the amount that I would allow someone else to affect me would scare the shit out of me. The fact that it would also scare “friends” who witnessed these intense emotional moments made me doubt myself even more. Doubt my sanity, doubt my place in this world, doubt every inch of myself to being anything that someone else would want to be apart of.

There have been times where I have been completely broken in pieces on my knees, retching with sobs and tears over a boy that I wasn’t even sure liked me. I believe 14 or 15 was the age of the first occurrence. A total breakdown of accepted sanity. This has happened more than once. More recently, twice with Josh within the first year of our relationship. How could I feel such emotional distress over a non relationship? Something I felt I wanted and needed to feel a piece of that whole. How could I let another individual so visually and internally destroy me. How could I allow myself to feel this much?

I came from a very emotionally stringent household. Vapid of any desire to show otherwise. There was no feeling, there was no shows of affection, there was no concern for reasons why. Everything was cut and dry. Feelings and emotions were unnecessary, unintelligent, and useless. The reasons why we felt a certain way were just bullshit pussy distractions that had no relevance toward becoming an upright societal contribution. My childhood was almost militaristic but not. The worst part was that I was reprimanded and ridiculed for my constant unhappiness. More so by my father than my mother. I think she somewhat understood because she felt it as well. But she had no concern or motivation to aid in that change. I don’t know if she even knew how. I believe this upbringing left me with many emotional deficits, especially from my father. I was told he never held me or hugged me ever unless there was a camera around, and I remember daily anger and rage instead of interest and play. Both my parents provided financially, but were so selfishly engaged in their own shit that it left little room for my emotional growth. My dad began cheating on my mom shortly after I was born and I think that left her bitter toward herself and toward me.

I believe this is why I gravitate toward mistreatment and disappointment yet long for those things to turn into intense passionate love, appreciation, and acceptance. My entire life I’ve been surrounded by such emotional selfishness. Why can I not follow the same path? Why have I always allowed myself to be the victim of it? Why am I so different from everyone I’ve encountered. I want to feel passionate emotion so intensely that the surroundings quake with my body’s vibrations, and I want to feel it back. I want to be the reason that makes everything else be OK. I think I have mistaken these desires for drama and distress and attached myself to those responses. To feel. To feel that hand thrusting itself into my body cavity and twisting up all of my internal organs entwined with my emotional soul and ripping them from my body with one solid clenching grasp. Holding on and never letting go. I beat their heart. I make them breathe. Without my presence there would be no more reason. I don’t even know if the possibility exists outside of fairy tales, romance novels, and adrenaline junkies. But then that’s also the very reason it stands to be debatable! If there are millions of others writing about it and seeking out something comparable through various endeavors, doesn’t that go to show that there exists like minded souls who feel the same way and want the same thing too?