Capturing an Unnamed Feeling
There’s this feeling that’s been stealthily lurking around me, shadowing me, creeping in at 4 a.m. and overtaking my thoughts, then slowly fading out — but just a little — just enough that I can get through most of my day without noticing it’s still there. It’s stalking me, haunting me, and its stench lingers in the air. I’m trying to capture this feeling and trap it. Maybe I’ll put it in a jar to visit again later, or maybe I can sweep it outside and hope it doesn’t come back. I’m not sure what form this feeling comes in, so I don’t know the proper containment vessel yet.
I’ve been struggling with identifying this feeling, with describing its sensation and giving it a name. It doesn’t fall into any of the emotional categories I’ve felt before. This is uncharted territory in my landscape of feelings.
It’s a hurt I can’t quite characterize. An emptiness of sorts, but not the emptiness of a depression. “Emptiness with a Twist,” I think I’d call it on a bar menu. Cheap whiskey with a lemon slice and one ice cube — and you have to drink it alone.
Is it longing? Is it disappointment? Anger? Guilt? Shame? Remorse? Regret? Loneliness? Fear? Some vague, general sadness?
No — it’s not quite any of those feelings, nor is it some unique combination of two of them intermingling in my brain. I know all of those emotions. I know the way those taste and smell and feel. It’s not the acrid odor of disappointment that catches my nose in the empty wind, nor is it the icy caress of loneliness that gently graces the back of my arms at inopportune times. It’s not the bitterness that sits on the back of my tongue with each swallowed regret, nor is it the burning sting of longing that pierces deep in my abdomen somewhere between my stomach and heart. This is a distinctly different animal.
I’m certain I’ve never felt this emotion before, not in this way. I’m damn lucky this is my first real encounter, but I’m so unprepared for how to wrangle it. It’s an ominous beast of an emotion. It’s not easy to process it and break it down into manageable chunks. It doesn’t heal in time because it’s not really an emotion at all. It’s a state. It’s simply the way things are.
This beast won’t let me forget exactly what I’m trying to forget. It keeps nudging me and whimpering, reminding me that I’m just not enough, I’m not right, I’m not it, I’m not the one, not this time, and probably not ever. I put myself out on a plate, against all my distaste for vulnerability, to be judged. I was assessed, I was savored and complimented, but I still wasn’t the one. I was set aside with only a parting gift that stirs up cold memories.
The beast not only follows me, sometimes it sits on my shoulders, literally a burden that I carry around. Sometimes it grabs at my ankles and slows me down. Sometimes I think it’s finally gone away, but then I see the Milky Way in a clear night sky or someone writing on a napkin in a coffee shop or some other otherwise meaningless thing that reminds me of the emotion all over again. It hasn’t gone away. I just forgot it was there for a little while.
This emotion keeps seeping in and slowing surrounding me, enveloping me. Every once in a while it squeezes too tight and I have to gasp for air and shove it away. With each embrace, though, I’ve gotten closer to pinpointing its identity.
And I think with time maybe I’ve finally come to recognize what it is. I kept trying to turn around quickly to catch a glimpse, only then it would be gone. Now, though, I see it — it’s not lurking behind me, but sitting far in front of me, staring me down.
I see it and now I know the name of this feeling: Its name is Rejection.
Dear Rejection: Welcome to my world. You’re a noisy, abrasive, uncomfortable feeling. You’ve decided to take up residency here, but please, make yourself less visible. Go settle in a corner, nestle in a chasm, take a long nap, and stop keeping me awake at night. I’ve had enough of you.
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