Can you separate life into its appropriate sections and keep your emotion in each designated compartment, like an invisible fence with big dog wattage?
Not sure who deems what appropriate, but let’s just say designating mundane stuff like work and family.
Sex and politics.
Money.
Parenting. Real parenting, not the bragfest people put on Facebook.
The life we’re not supposed to talk about cuz ne’er shall the paths cross, like liquor and beer. Or beer and liquor. I forget which, but they say you should never mix.
Can you keep it all separate? The stuff no one talks about – unless anonymously on social media with the name of PussyLoverStankRod with a profile pic of a big [insert gun/truck/dog/fish/boobs/confederateflag here].
Your work life, home life, public life, parent life, family life, political life, social life, community life? Do you keep a clear and distinct separation of church and state, put your emotions in a box?
Or does life spill over, flooding your world and making everything a mess?
Lately I’ve heard a lot about the innate ability to compartmentalize, keeping emotions neat and tidy and in their place, and I’ve come to the conclusion I just can’t do it.
Like touching my toes or remembering logins or blowdrying my own hair. Not my skill set.
I can’t see a scary movie and go along for the thrill ride because for me, it doesn’t end with the closing credits. I bring that shit home and it keeps me up at night and I have to carry a fire-poker every single time I go downstairs alone.
Just in case.
I couldn’t go out after Sandy Hook because I couldn’t get out of bed. For weeks. And weeks.
Often still.
Sigh.
I bring all of me wherever I go, and I get it, I do. Most days, I don’t like me either. And there’s a lot of me. About 20 pounds more than this time last year, fuckyouverymuch menopause.
But these people who compartmentalize their life: work from home, politics from life, public from private, writing from living, thoughts from actions. Able to switch gears flawlessly and seamlessly. I don’t get it. Are they even human? How do they do it? And why?
They say the most damage done by a hurricane isn’t the wind, it’s the water. The surge after the storm. It’s not the snowstorm that wrecks devastation, it’s the thaw: the ice jams and run off. The tsunami warning follows the earthquake.
Clearly I’m damaged – flood damaged.
I try-try-try to keep everything separate, but damn if the world – the good, the bad, the funny, the sweet and the salty – doesn’t leak into everything I do, everything I say, where I work, where I live; what I think, say, do, feel. Sometimes the floodgates are opened and I just can’t stop it, life from spilling over.
And sometimes there’s a small leak causing damage no one can see.
So sometimes I go radio silent. No writing. No talking. When the world gets too big, I make myself as small as possible and try to steer clear of the raging storms.
It works, for a while, but then it gets messy. I get messy.
It’s like being naked all the time and I get it, I do. Nobody wants to see that.
Some people can separate each life like an orange, and eat each segment one by one, free and easy. Pop it in your mouth, and enjoy.
Me? Hope you like pulp. Lots of it. And seeds. The sweet juice running down your fingers, making your hands sticky, staining your clothes. And the bitter pithy part of the peel that I can never remove entirely.
Most days, I’m a mess. Once the water recedes, the damage is obvious, and even things thought to be put away high enough get wet and begin to mold.
I can only hope, with enough fresh air and sunshine, life will begin to dry out. Then I will start all over again, trying to keep the flood gates closed but knowing full well, life will seep in no matter how hard I try to stop it.
Love this so much and can relate. Teary over here and yay for continuing to start over!
xo woman. got your kind message and thx for the luv!
Hey Kate! I really enjoyed reading this and was actually thinking it’s probably a good thing that the entire scope of you spills over into all areas of your life. That’s what makes someone’s existence truly authentic. That being said, we need to have some boundaries. I think questioning your emotions,and your responses to them (their appropriateness in a particular situation) can be helpful. That’s where the sorting and compartmentalizing can help you either remove yourself from a source of discomfort or fear by finding a new perspective, or invite you to step In closer and examine the source of the dis-ease within.
Interesting stuff for sure !
Lots to think about — thx for helping make sense of it here, and every Friday at 9:30 on the mat! xo
It’s monsoon season for me too. Let’s share floods sometime…
any flooding time.
I have felt every feel you dripped on to the page with such raw authenticity. I write under a pen name to protect myself from high tide. I get it, in my bones, I get it.
I used be anonymous here. Used to be.
I used to keep things compartmentalized like for instance when networking. The rule was always not to mention politics, sex, religion or sports. Now, I feel like it’s being inauthentic. There is too much happening in the world and it’s more important to speak out and hope to be heard. I refuse to be an ostrich with my head in the sand but at the same time, don’t want to be obnoxious about it. It’s kind of a dilemma.
It’s all about the filter. Of which I have none.
This is good. It was a sweet and “telling” read. I saw myself in each line. The sun will come and dry out the damage. Better days ahead.
Jen’s FB post led me here. Genuine, thought provoking, and relatable! Hugs from an old volleyball friend