I felt a small spike of energy in my abdomen at my husband’s words. Once, this would have sent me into a spin of story-making. A story often retold inside me, but rarely mentioned to my husband. If it did ever get vocalised, it would land incoherently, loudly, and full of rage.
I can still feel the residue of that energy in my shoulders. Because I left it alone, it moved more freely. At least, that’s my assumption.
What I didn’t do was lock it in and let it spin in place. His words were a trigger, but the gun, me, didn’t go off.
For the longest time, I allowed different emotions to impact me. Not knowing what to do with them, I moved into blame. I constantly played the game but never won. A bit like when I buy a lottery ticket.
Seven random numbers might be YOU. But the likelihood is they won’t lead to the dream you’ve imagined yourself in.
Our imagination is powerful. It allows us to perceive the world in so many ways. Often, we live inside a perception without taking the time to see if it’s real. It feels real.
Emotions aren’t here to tell a story. They alert us to something. What that something is might be nothing. An old memory surfacing. But it might be danger.
In the example above, my reflex would have been blame. The nudge I remembered was defensive. However, I let it pass. There was nothing in that moment that needed defending.
The long-held idea I’ve been playing with could rest here. Emotions get triggered. They flow. They stick. And we mistake their presence for instruction.
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