āSo, are you happy?ā is a question that caught me off guard recently.
Arising as the dominoes of introspection were already gathering speed, this unseemly combination of four words challenged me to reflect on life.
On the surface, of course Iām happy. My career is going well. My friendships are tight. I have several communities I can rely on. And everyday Iām getting closer to the goals that are important to me. Surely this is what itās all about?
In some ways yes. But, in other ways no.
See, beneath the onward march of achievements Iāve been unknowingly adopting a rather emotionless approach to life. Iāve meditated and exercised out the highs and lows of the everyday in pursuit of a calm, stoic-like pose towards lifeās many twists and turns.
And oh boy has it been working. As the self-discipline Iāve created has become my calling card, leaving behind a memory of ambition, drive and determination that is often praised by friends and strangers alike. Which as nice as it is to hear, proves only to reinforce the āno excuses, get it doneā mindset that has become my central philosophy in how I approach the world.
But, as with any guiding principle, there are trade-offs. For the blade of discipline is in-fact double-edged. And in wielding it to relentlessly cut through lifeās many obstacles Iāve not been giving myself the time to process the emotions of change that have been gathering storm beneath the surface.
Which probably sounds like a pretty big realisation. But, actually becomes increasingly obvious the more I reflect on how Iāve been spending my lifeā¦
Poetry
On the 7th January 2023, having lived in the Shropshire countryside by myself for over 3 months and planning my return to London, I wrote this poem called āPhoenix Risingā:
The phoenix is rising, Freed from its cage. The ashes are falling, Awaiting entrance onto the stage. It's warmth is going out, Shielding it from self-doubt. Replaced with a heart of stone, Never letting feelings cut to the bone. Soaring above the clouds, Caring not for the opinion of crowds. A confidence is stirring within, One prepared to take it on the chin.
At the time the poem was a positive reflection of resilience and an anticipation of the next steps in my path. But, looking back now I see it through a new lens. One in which I recognise myself making an active decision not to feel. For yes a confidence is stirring within, but is it one that is well founded in deep happiness and joy? That Iām not so sure.
Music
Then thereās the obscene amount of music I listen to.
Which Spotify Wrapped kindly reminded me in December was a total of 103,835 minutes in 2023, which is just shy of 5 hours every single day. To which I was low-key proud. Partly because this landed me in the top 1% of Spotify listeners worldwide, and partly because I donāt listen to music while exercising and sit on what must be 6+ hours of calls most days.
Mr Overachiever take a bow, because youāve done it again. Youāve overcome such hardship and constraints to get yourself into the top 1%. Look at you go.
But again at what cost?
This one might be a little less obvious because music sure can make us feel a whole Pandoraās box of emotions. But, it kind of depends on how you use it. See what I mostly do is listen to the same Discover Weekly playlist on repeat until it changes each Monday. On day 1 itās fresh, new and exciting. But, by day 7 itās just background noise that helps me focus on whatever task Iām doing at the time - whether it be taking a shower, building a slide deck, or writing this newsletter. Music gets me through it. And it makes me productive. But, it also leaves me disconnected from the present moment, numbing me from experiencing how I actually feel. Which might seem a reasonable price to pay in the short term. But, over weeks, months and years can leave me feeling a little out-of-touch with who I really am.
In true divine coincidence I even stumbled upon this video that landed in my recommendations feed from YouTube in January and helped shift my perspective even further:
Vulnerability
Iāve always considered myself an emotionally open person.
And to be fair my reasoning is well founded. For I willingly share some of my greatest struggles with complete strangers, frequently skip small talk and try my best to create authentic relationships. All in search of those meaningful connections with others that are so frequently missing from life. I mean Iāve even gone so far as to bring all those I meet who enjoy delving into these deep conversations together as part of the Undefinable Community.
But, vulnerability isnāt such a simple thing.
As thereās a fine line between performative vulnerability and authentic vulnerability. The former relies on the faƧade of seemingly meaningful yet emotionally distant storytelling. While the latter truly connects to and shares emotionally difficult experiences that still scar an individual. And looking back now Iāve been treading too far towards the former.
For you see, yes I might have been sharing deeply personal stories with near-enough strangers that reveal a part of myself to them. But, Iām also telling them the same story Iāve told others million times before, recounting the words sentence by sentence as a kind of Shakespearean play that I no longer feel any connection to.
Which while enabling me to quickly build trust with strangers, has also left me lacking a true intimacy with others. Put simply, in my relationships Iāve been holding back. Partly because the emotional numbness has made it hard to feel. But, also because Iāve been scared to risk sharing a side of myself that struggles. Instead, Iāve been putting on a brave face, smiling in defiance and sharing memories that no longer even matter. Alas, no more.
Thawing
Besides the seasonal theme clearly having stuck with me, finishing Wintering by Katherine May recently has also left with me an alternative to my gritty approach to difficult times that can be summed up in her quote:
āDoing those deeply unfashionable things ā slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting ā are radical acts these days, but they are essential. This is a crossroads we all know, a moment when you need to shed a skin. If you do, youāll expose all those painful nerve endings, and feel so raw that youāll need to take care of yourself for a while. If you donāt, then that old skin will harden around you.ā
This, along with conversations with community members and reflections over the last few weeks has brought about an emotional thawing that is seeping through my body. Itās warmth is flowing again through my veins, bringing back both a deeper connection to how I feel and a realisation at the overwhelm of activities Iāve been taking on.
And as much as I want to relent against the inconvenience of itās timing, the emotions Iāve been neglecting have finally started to bubble to the surface once more. Which I felt compelled to express again in the form I know best as a poem I named āThawingā that I wrote on 1st February 2024:
As I awake from an emotional thaw, The worldās intricacies begin to roar. Outside, colour shines a little brighter, Its dim hues reign a little lighter. Lifeās melody sings a little clearer, Its beating drum a little nearer. But inside, my star collapses, Itās endless hydrogen elapses. My heart is bleeding once more, Laid on the table undeniably raw, For vulnerability is like a seesaw, Painful, beautiful and unsure.
I know this is a can of worms I can no longer close.
And while I recognise that I donāt have all the answers, what I do know is that instead of trying to ignore feelings going forward I will be embracing and integrating them. This will likely lead to clashes with my desire for discipline that I fully intend retain. But, Iām confident that in a lot of ways this conflict is healthy and that through truly opening up to more of my friends, being more present with life and taking the time to sit with my emotions I can take yet another step forward towards becoming my full self.
So, hereās to feeling again.
No matter what the emotions might be.