Ever-loving Father, who formed us as vessels from dust, breathed life into the still-soft clay of our hearts, and carved out passages for the outpouring of our souls—send Your Spirit to tend to our spirits’ channels and clear away the blockages of this life, that we may better serve as conduits for the love You pour into us. We beseech You through Your Son, our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and Your Spirit, One God, now and forever. Amen.
I had a doozey of a therapy session today. I didn’t want to go. My mind dug in its heels like a dog who doesn’t want to move on from a particularly salacious scent on a walk. I was miserable. And I wanted to stay miserable, goddammit. I was going to ride this rollercoaster of an emotional spiral to the very end if it killed me. But Benji asked me to go, if not for myself, then for him. Love or guilt or lover’s guilt—whatever—it roused me enough to go.
The session wandered all over the place. What initiated my spiral was emotional fallout from recounting the story of my post-parental homelessness and desperation. But what stuck out to me most about the session was a realization that I very deeply resent my lack of follow-through. Particularly emotional follow-through.
I tend to think of emotions as processes or story arcs. There’s a build-up that culminates in some expressive climax followed by a cathartic denouement. It’s an expressive act that leaves a distinct imprint at its starting point—growth, maybe. I operate on the assumption that a “successful” emotion is one that is “completed” or followed through from build-up through catharsis. For better or worse (probably worse), it’s how I’ve long conceived of “processing.”
The problem is that I’m emotionally stunted in some way. My emotions are fizzling out, unfinished. If my psyche is a highway from my soul out into the world, my emotions little the shoulder like so many wrecked or broken-down cars. Emotionally processes initiated but never completed, never reaching climax or resolution, never actually emptying any feeling into the world. They just build up along the road, perpetuating the cycle of failed emotions, until there’s a pile that needs to be towed away.
Maybe it’s not healthy to think about emotions as “successful” or “failed.” But as I feel unexpressed (and thus unprocessed) emotions build up, clogging my psyche and robbing me of my emotional elasticity, I can’t help but feel that my emotions are failing me. I need God to come in and help me tow away these broken-down emotions. This road isn’t safe anymore. It hasn’t been in a long time.