One of my childhood favorite games was “Operation.” I loved the challenge of trying to pull the bones out of the guy without making that obnoxious buzzer go off. I blame Milton Bradley for at least part of my anxiety disorder. Between Operation and Perfection I was set up for it. Part of learning to live with PTSD is recognizing your own emotions. I’ve spent my life in public service and have tried, and often failed, to weigh and balance my words with wisdom. Therefore I have spent a lot of time biting my tongue and stifling my anger. (I know. I’m the pastor whose parishioners were going to start a blog entitled “Shit My Pastor Says.” I really did try and behave myself.)
This is probably not a bad way to live, keeping control of your tongue, heart and emotions. But tell me this. Where is the balance between expressing yourself and stating your emotions/need exactly as you feel it? Sad? Cry. Excited? Shout it? Happy? Share it. Angry? Say it.
These days I feel like a walking Operation game. If somebody hits the wrong nerve I feel like going through the roof. My anger trigger is quick. I blame the therapists who taught me to “feel my feelings.” I’m just irritable, jumpy and angry. I like knowing what I really feel but now I don’t know what to do with it.
So, light the charge, shoot me out and call me a cannonball. I’m coming in for a landing and I’m libel to tell you exactly how I feel. Well, probably not, but I want to.