Did you know that I used to think those two words, when put together, meant that there was something wrong with me?
A Facebook friend who is so positive all the time — praying for everyone and being a light — felt God calling her to admit her secret: her health was majorly messed up, and she was in excruciating pain all day long.
For the last few days, I have wondered why she wasn’t up front about her pain. Certainly, she didn’t have to share. That was all her rightful call to make.
But why are we so scared to admit we are going through big things that give us big feelings?
If you had told me “I can give you a magic wand, and you can change one thing about yourself,” I likely would think that you were nuts … But then seriously consider changing the extent to which I feel my feelings.
When I think of my emotions, I think of a roller coaster. Things just FEEL bigger. The highs are high and the lows are low. I am the opposite of what you might call an even-keeled person.
And this bothers me.
When I think of roller-coaster emotions, I think of someone who is unstable. Someone you don’t want to do business with. Someone who’s a little multi-personality. Or Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde-esque.
When I think of even-keeled emotions, I think of slow and steady. You know exactly what you’re getting, every time. Attractive in business, in life and in relationship. This is the person you want to be around. This is the person you want to be.
Except the problem with this is that some of the circumstances I am going through are naturally not meant for even-keeled feelings. In fact, if you felt even-keeled about them, you might just not have a heart. (Or a heartbeat.)
My grandpa is not doing well. He’s in his mid-nineties, and all the sudden couldn’t walk. (He is normally very active, takes care of himself, and even maintains a huge vegetable garden.) And this week, he was admitted to the hospital, and now he’s home requiring 24-hour care.
My grandmas from both sides died quickly, with no warning really. Just died. And I got those calls that make no sense at the time that the person you love more than anything is now gone.
And now that my grandpa is not well, every time I see my mom or dad call, my heart hits the floor and I just wait for the news that he too is gone.
Ryan and I have been searching plane tickets for me to go visit my grandpa. But just today I found out he doesn’t want any company.
I want to see my grandpa before he dies. And we were working on a plan to get me there. But now I don’t know if I’ll ever see him alive again, and it’s tearing me up.
These are big feelings.
As I snuggled Maddy in bed tonight, all the big feelings I had came dripping from my eyes. Maddy hugged me, and told me “everything will be ok mama.” She even went to get me a tissue.
And I held her as I cried, and yet again thought of how close I came to not knowing her. And of course I thought of all the other babies that didn’t make it.
“Hey Maddy,” I said. “thanks for making it out of my belly ok. The other babies didn’t make it … But you did. And mom is glad you made it.”
More big feelings y’all.
And this also happened today:
While things are still moving slowly, they are most decidedly moving in the direction of reunification. The other children in care have stepped up the plan. Things are moving.
And I find that during the day, I hug baby Z so tight and kiss him so much because I just want to hold on forever.
But I can’t.
Roller-coaster big feelings.
In spite of the fact that normal people, even even-keeled people, might have similar emotions, I fight the lie that I need to pretend to have it all put together.
Because I don’t want people to look at me and think, “oh my, there goes that girl with big feelings again. Stay clear of her … She’ll emote all over the place.”
Instead I want you guys to see me as I am — well, mostly am — a chill girl that loves to meet new people, learn about what makes them tick. I love coffee and connection, and it’s even better when they are together. Some of my favorite people are my parents, siblings and in-laws. I love being with our families.
I’m highly motivated, and have a dream burning in my gut to make a difference. I have such a strong desire to change the world. I feel a connection to people who mourn, and want to support them in loss.
I think too heavy sometimes, but I’m constantly thinking, challenging my beliefs of the world and my role in it.
One of my favorite things to do is launch a new person in my business, and help them get started on their dreams. I love to sing, be silly with my kids, have dance parties in the kitchen and play tickle monster on the floor.
When I love, I love hard and deep. When I am sad, it cuts to the core. When I am happy, life feels carefree and full of joy. And when one of my children make me angry, I have to be super careful not to lose my temper. (And sometimes J still do.)
I guess my fear is that when I share my big feelings with you, you think that is all I’m made of. That the other parts to me, or even the happy big feelings, get lost in translation.
So that’s why I sometimes hide my big feelings. Why do you hide yours?