I watched Miracle on Cell # 7, a wad of tissues and a pillow on either side of me. I was fully expecting to sob, as it is a touching story about a father and his daughter. Stories that heavily feature father-daughter relationships make me sad, because while I know from my childhood memories (the ones I can vividly remember) that my dad loved me very much, I did not get to spend a lot of time with him, thanks to the illness he tried to fight for almost a decade, but eventually claimed him.
This outflow of feelings is making me uncomfortable, so I shall try getting to the point.
Sure enough, I felt the proverbial tugging at the heartstrings, but not enough to bring on the waterworks. Thing is, I know for sure that letting it all out makes me feel better, but years of trying to repress my emotions have rendered me unable to fully show how I really feel. I can only comfortably show my feelings to a certain extent; more than that and I will try veering towards a different subject. Case in point, the sentence above this paragraph.
What I find strange is that, in spite of this, I am touted as sensitive, as in, my feelings get hurt easily. Apparently, it’s all over my face, whatever emotion I may be feeling. Sans the tears. So maybe I’m not as repressed as I think I am. Still, I know for sure that I have a long way to go in getting the hang of this.
I know bursting into tears isn’t an indicator of me getting a hold of my feelings (the irony in that statement), but for me, it is a very, very big step. In the meantime, if you’ve ever seen me cry and tell it to my face, I will probably want to make YOU cry. Sorry, it’s not you, it’s all those years of being forced not to cry so as not to endure a harder punishment.
Wow, I did not mean for that to sound so dark. I had a good childhood, I swear.
– Nicole xx