I Got this Icebox Where my Heart Used to Be

Perhaps my least favorite thing to do in the world is have an emotional conversation. I am a firm believer in the idea that one’s feelings should be bottled up unhealthily in the least pervasive a way as possible. I use “pervasive” because our society dictates that, in order to be a normally functioning human being, you should express your feelings.

Of course, my beliefs in this particular case are severely contrary to everything I have learned from graduate studies in applied psychology, but I am completely comfortable with the deviation.

I simply think it’s situational.

It isn’t always therapeutic to talk about your feelings. In fact, it is actually semi-traumatic, for me. It makes me uncomfortable for long periods of time, and I continue to replay the conversation in my mind. I am not the only person who feels this way.

Having emotional discussions symbolizes that you have taken a pledge of trust toward the person you are talking to. You have to have faith that the person in front of you is not going to pass judgment. This person is not going develop an opinion on your problem. He or she is simply going to listen.

And that is simply impossible.

Everyone in the world judges, perhaps some more than others. It takes a certain kind of obliviousness, or even recklessness, to disregard this and just open your heart to another creature. It is also very unlikely that the other person has profound insight that would be altogether helpful, anyway.

This is not to discourage anyone from opening up if this is what would be helpful to them personally, but I cannot bring myself to believe that it is a suitable solution for the entirety of the masses.

Then again, I’ve been told that I’ve got a block of ice where my heart should be, so what do I know?

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