People think I’m too emotional sometimes. And a lot of the time it gets chalked up the way all emotional women are packaged: that time of the month, you’re such a girl, or, my personal nemesis “calm down”.
It’s not my time of the month. I had cervical cancer in my twenties and a hysterectomy at 28. It hasn’t been my time of the month in 14 years. And yes I’m a girl, but I’m also a human and humans, except for maybe sociopaths, feel things.
Don’t tell me to calm down either. Nothing makes me want to commit murder faster than those two words when I’m in an emotional hurricane.
Let me tell you about being highly emotional. I don’t just feel my feelings, I feel them all consumingly. When I’m sad, I’m devastated. When I’m scared, I’m probably peeing my pants. When I’m happy I’m probably also peeing my pants. When I love, I do so to the depths of my soul. It can be a curse no question, but, it can also be a phenomenal blessing. Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel things so hard. It’s difficult to explain why the death of someone I never met can tilt my axis and have me in tears for hours. It’s also not cool when someone tries to cut the tension at a funeral with a light joke and I can’t stop laughing. But, it’s also the reason why music, or a sunset or a smile from one of my children can bring me to happy tears and consequently search those moments onto my heart in a way I’m not sure they otherwise would be.
I’m a highly emotional person. Don’t try to tame me or find ways to tone me down, because, much like my fiery temper and my infectious laughter, I am glorious just as I am.