I wear my heart on my sleeve.
I always have and probably always will. I have no ability whatsoever to hide what I'm really feeling. Oh sure! I can fool those who don't know me but never those who do.
When I love I love whole-heartedly. When I don't love I disengage and step back and become dutiful but distant.
My sis says I am "deep". I think I'm just simple.
One of the current lessons I'm having to learn is to fully engage with my feelings and emotions and live inside of them. In the past, I have tended to do this odd thing where I dramatize and over-inflate minor feelings to grandiose proportions and subjugate and distill big feelings, pushing them down inside where they can't see the light of day.
It's not trickery. It's not perverse as such. It's just I cope better when emotion is a scene from a play. I can act it and savour the dramatic qualities of it allowing myself explore it from a kind of actresses vantage point; a sort of objective sense of it really.
Deep, raw, intense and very real emotion frightens me. I will attempt to disallow anyone to see these real depths. I can detach very well, for the most part, from this intensity of feeling. However, it still shows even so, in my bearing and my demeanor on the outside. Those who know me best can tell there is something going on. I can rarely tell them the whole truth of it though. I play up the small stuff and stifle the big stuff. Or try to anyway.
Blogging has given me a gift in this sense. Here I CAN say the deepest feelings of my being and place them into a coherent framework without having to fear the repercussions of their expression. In here, I get to be artless, honest and worldly, displaying my naive heart for "all the world" to see.
It's like being the actress I have always wanted to be, as well as the producer and the director of my own stage play. Blogging gives me a Carte Blanche script in which I can explore these deep and scary emotions, releasing them so to speak from having to actually live them silently and with constraint.
If I write of the depths of my sadness, it is diffused and softened into something other than profound sadness. If I write of my awe and wonder in something, the process suffuses the sense of that with coherent logic and slight detachment which prevents me from losing touch with reality completely.
Writing is obviously my souls way of dealing with things. It's my own version of the lucid dreaming state where I can push the boundaries of my thinking and explore what it means to be the way I am.
I AM simple though. It doesn't take much to cheer me, to sadden me, to uplift me or to nail me flat. I'm narcissistic, euphemistic, ideological, fantasy-driven, and completely ingenuous. I live for the Ideal Concept of Mind and am a complete dolt when it comes to being "real" about emotions.
They quite simply terrify me.