speeches>emotion. sometimes.

Recite it. Recite it more. Recite it so much that it becomes a memorized speech.

This is my coping skill, I've realized. Whenever I don't want to feel or show emotion, I take whatever the damn thing is that is causing me emotion and I think about it. I think a lot. I try to understand it. I seek rationality. And then I seek to understand everything about this elusive, emotion-causing..."thing." Person, situation, fear, disappointment, insecurity, whatever. I overanalyze the situation from the inside out and form explanations. And then I put words to what I am thinking and feeling, considering and rephrasing each part until it says exactly what I want it to. Then I think about this balled up mess of information and emotion that I have turned into a speech. From there, I often write my "speech" (although I rarely recognize it as such) in my journal. Sometimes, when people ask me how I'm doing, I share it with them. And then I stop feeling things, and it's nice. The speech often becomes less and less lengthly and more and rational the more I repeat it. The reason I call it a speech, is because I've realized that the more I repeat and write it, the more the words just become the same. And then, at this point, I stop feeling so much. I stop hurting! It's nice. I stop fearing and aching and wondering, at least mostly. My emotions turn into factual statements said with a flat, content affect. It is a great coping skill, one that has allowed me to deal with many undesirable situations.

But then...sometimes joy and excitement and anticipation and wonder turn into speeches, too. I don't like that as much. And sometimes when I am giving a speech, I - heaven forbid! - start to feel again. So I cut my speech off and stuff my feelings back inside.

Sometimes i let my feelings come out for reals, without speeches and rationale and pretty words, but only sometimes and in safe places. Like in my bed, tucked between the sheets, curled up in my fluffy comforter. Or driving in my car to a people-less destination. Or laying on the floor when no one is home.

And then, I wipe my eyes, put on a smile, and go on to fill the role of stability that the world has asked me to fill. Some things about this whole process are messed up, but some are good.

I'm still not quite sure which are which.