People comment on how emotionally unreserved I am. My life really is an open book; I hold back almost nothing. When something happens in my life that evokes a passionate response, I can’t help myself from pouring it out. It’s bothersome, but I’m miserable trying to do anything else. Why?
Because I process my emotions best when I let them out. My mind is my home. I’m constantly taking in information, analyzing, reflecting, planning, imagining, and perceiving. It’s a cluttered place. When more emotions are jammed in there, I legitimately explode. When my feelings and thoughts are in front of me, in the rubble, I can sort everything out. It’s impossible for me to try to organize it all in my messy mind. There needs to be space, air for me to breathe.
To be honest, I really admire private people, people who can process things inside their own mental universes. I have tried to be more private, but it’s suffocating. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.
I also can’t pretend that I enjoy being such a sharer. It makes me feel less independent. When I’ve had the worst day of my life, I’m desperate to meet someone for coffee and just let it all out. I crave company–even silent company, just sitting there in someone’s presence. I can’t process it so well on my own, and I hate that.
It’s not that I can’t or don’t need to process in my head. I am a human being. I enjoy my mind immensely, and I wish I could spend more time there–it’s just that I get too full. And yes, there’s a time and a place for sharing. I’ve learned to cope better on my own and not be unhealthily dependent upon other people, but when it comes down to it, I’m inclined to talk. It’s just who I am and how I deal. As much as I’d like to change that sometimes, I can’t.
So, please know: when I’m rambling on and on, I’m just trying to process. When I cry and express my emotions, I’m trying to sort through it all. I need to bounce my thoughts and feelings off others. I need to reach out. I’m thinking.