Feelings Stampede
Yesterday my horse got pretty upset. He showed his displeasure with a couple of impressive runs around the pasture, flattening out his back and pounding his hooves like the well-built Quarter Horse he is, nipping at the steers and kicking futilely at mid-air.
Buzz was mad because his pasture-mate had to leave Treewater Ranch. Never mind that Buzz is adored around here, that he’s surrounded by an embarrassment of lush grass, that he has a certain toddler trained to bring him carrots and stroke him endlessly, cooing “G’boy, Buzz” in her husky little-girl voice.
I believe in letting horses be horses, so I let him blow off steam. He wasn’t a danger to himself or anyone else, and his temper tantrum was a terrific display of athleticism. It felt good to him, to run as fast as he could, to give full vent to his aggrieved feelings. He’s a horse, after all.
Like Buzz, I have a pretty great life. I have a family filled with love, in a house I long dreamed of having, with a farmhouse sink to wash wine glasses and coffee mugs in, a freezer full of homegrown beef and a woodsy smelling, girlish candle on my reclaimed-wood fireplace mantle. Also like Buzz, I got pretty peeved this week.
I’m not a horse and I’m not very athletic, so my angry stampede was less impressive. Of course, unlike Buzz, my temper tantrum didn’t do much to assuage my fear or anger, and I just felt more misused after. I was justified in being sad and frustrated. I was not justified in throwing the baby bottles in the sink and cussing loudly while crying uncontrollably. Like I said, it wasn’t impressive.
I wish I’d gotten on Buzz and taken a ride, let him calm me down with his steady gait and his deep horsey breath. I wish I’d spiked my coffee or taken a walk or read a book or eaten a bowl of ice cream. I wish I’d taken a drive into the country and blared my hillbilly country music out of rolled-down windows or snuggled my kids or called my husband.
I’m in the feeling triad of the Enneagram and while I generally focus on other people’s feelings (any other 2s out there?), on the rare occasion that my emotions are so big to be overwhelming, I rarely react well. I usually cry a lot, I worry (I’ve had a nightmare every night this week) I stampede through life like Buzz did, as if a display of emotive energy will somehow magic bliss back into my days.
I want to get better at feeling, while still maintaining an emotional strength that leaves me wiser instead of worn out. I want to use my energy toward something that lasts; not futile, frustrated running. There’s a Proverb that goes, “A fool gives full vent to his spirit, but a wise man quietly holds it back.”
That’s not encouragement to stifle emotion, but rather to not give “full vent” – to share honestly but not word-vomit on others, to allow myself to feel frustrated without letting that frustration be the only thing I can see. I want to be the kind of friend, mom and creative who channels the hard days into productive hope, who rallies when disappointments come, who, like Buzz today, runs for the joy of it, not the anger.