Man, I used to think I had it all figured out, you know? Like, I was the rock. The stable one. The person people could lean on. That was my vibe, or at least, that’s what I tried to project. But deep down, there was always this whole other movie playing. This crazy, emotional internal world that sometimes felt like a serene lake, and other times like a full-blown hurricane. It was a constant push and pull – wanting things solid, predictable, safe, but then feeling everything so damn intensely, getting swept up in moods and feelings I couldn’t even put a name to. It was confusing as hell, trying to reconcile these two very different parts of myself.
This internal tug-of-war really got intense in my late twenties. I was in a long-term relationship, and it felt like we were always hitting these weird walls. I’d be stubborn, wanting things a certain way because it felt right, felt secure. Then my partner would say I was too closed off, too resistant to change. But then, a few days later, they’d tell me I was too sensitive, taking everything to heart, getting moody over nothing. I just couldn’t win. How could I be both the unshakeable rock and the overly sensitive crybaby at the same time? It made no sense to me.
I’d always dig my heels in, that was my go-to move. My first reaction was usually, “No! You’re just overthinking it! I’m fine!” Even when my gut was churning and my head was buzzing with a million conflicting thoughts. I hated confrontation, but I also hated feeling misunderstood or like I was being told I was flawed. It created this annoying loop: I’d want peace and quiet, but my own stubbornness and unacknowledged feelings would stir up a storm, and I’d end up creating the very tension I tried to avoid.
Things eventually blew up, spectacularly. The relationship ended, and it wasn’t pretty. I mean, it was genuinely ugly. For months after, I felt like a ghost, just floating through life. Every emotion felt cranked up to eleven, every memory a fresh wound. I lost my appetite, sleep became a luxury I couldn’t afford. That solid, dependable self I thought I was? Gone. Vanished. Replaced by this raw, exposed mess of nerves and feelings.
And that’s when it truly hit me. This wasn’t just a breakup. This was an earthquake, ripping through my foundations. I realized I had been living on borrowed time, operating on autopilot, completely ignoring that deep, sensitive part of me. All those times I’d told myself to “just get over it,” to “be practical,” to “suck it up”? All that emotional stuff I’d pushed down didn’t just disappear. Oh no. It festered. It brewed. And it became this powerful, silent force that would just erupt, often at the worst possible moments, leaving me feeling totally powerless and out of control.
I started digging into myself. Not into anything spiritual or New Age at first, just into my own head and heart. I grabbed a cheap notebook and just started writing. Journaling. Man, that was tough. Putting down how I actually felt, without trying to sugarcoat it or logically explain it away. Just raw, messy emotions. It felt vulnerable, kind of gross even. But slowly, gradually, so slowly, I started to see patterns. I saw how my deep need for security and comfort often slammed head-on into this powerful current of intuition and empathy. How I’d often cling to familiar situations or people, even if they weren’t good for me, because the thought of stepping into the unknown felt absolutely terrifying, especially with all these intense feelings swirling around inside.
<
Connecting the Dots
I read a bunch of stuff online – general psychology articles about emotional intelligence, even some stuff about being an empath. I wasn’t actively looking for anything specific, just trying to make sense of my own chaotic internal landscape. And then, somehow, I stumbled onto this whole “Taurus Sun Pisces Moon” personality thing. It wasn’t like a beam of light from the sky, but as I read through the descriptions, it was like someone had secretly been observing my entire life, taken a peek inside my brain and heart, and written it all down. This blend of being grounded, maybe a little stubborn, but also deeply sensitive, emotional, sometimes a bit dreamy, even prone to escaping reality. It was me. It just… clicked.
It wasn’t about trying to completely change who I was, or suddenly become someone else. No, it was about finally starting to own all those seemingly contradictory parts. Instead of constantly fighting that sensitive, emotional side, I began to listen to it. Instead of letting my stubbornness completely block me from growing, I started to use that inherent groundedness to create safe spaces for my emotions. To actually process them, instead of just feeling them intensely and then immediately trying to stuff them back down or rationalize them away. It was a long, slow climb, and yeah, sometimes it was pretty painful.
I learned to set boundaries, to say no when my energy was drained. I learned to truly feel my feelings, no matter how uncomfortable or ugly they seemed, without immediately trying to change them or judge myself for them. And when that familiar stubborn streak would creep in, I’d pause and ask myself, “What am I really trying to protect here? Is this truly good for me, or am I just scared of moving into uncharted emotional territory?”
It wasn’t a magic wand or an instant fix. Trust me, I still have days where I feel like I’m trying to wrestle a whole school of slippery fish while simultaneously trying to stay balanced on the back of a bull. But now? I recognize the game. I understand the players. It’s like finally getting the instruction manual for my own complicated internal machinery after years of just fumbling around blindly. That profound understanding, that whole journey of truly unpacking those emotions – it wasn’t a quick trip, it was a long, demanding expedition. But damn, it was absolutely worth every single step. Now, when the emotional tides start to pull and swirl, I don’t panic. I know how to navigate them.
