These Aren’t My Feelings: Absorbing Emotions as an INFJ

I have noticed that sometimes when I watch movies or TV shows I get a bit more worked up than the average person (eg. I was watched an episode of The OA this morning and I got physically anxious because of the situation… my heart was racing, my hands were clammy.) Or that when my husband comes home in a melancholy mood I have to consciously choose not to automatically slip into being melancholy too, no matter how great my day was. Or that when someone cries, I often cry too.
Today after reading this blog post and thinking more about it, I realized that this is probably why I am so numb in some situations too. Because I know from experience how easily my emotions can be manipulated, there are some times and places where a wall goes up around my heart as a defense mechanism. Church, especially has been one of those places recently. For a good number of years the music and the preacher and the people around me all influenced me, subconsciously convincing me these feelings were my own. But then it the quiet moments when I was alone, when I no longer felt those same emotions, I started to wonder if they were my feelings at all. And obviously being a follower of Jesus is more than emotions… the heart AND the head are involved. So then I would press more into the beliefs and the knowledge side of things and well… growing up in an age of skepticism makes that difficult as well. So… I don’t really have a point here, just that I appreciated this blog post and a reminder that there are other people who are trying to figure out the lines between their emotions and the emotions of the people around them.

Marissa

This past Friday I did something I’ve never done before and which provided my father with much amusement. I danced at someone’s funeral. More precisely, it was at a memorial service for a man I didn’t really know. I’d seen him at church services, but we never spoke. His wife was on our dance team, though, and she asked us to open the service by dancing to Bo Ruach Elohim.

At first, I didn’t really feel much about this man’s death beyond a rather abstract sense of sympathy for those who’d loved him. But as soon as I was surrounded by the grief of those who knew and loved him, I started to feel it as well. Layering on top of that were the emotions I imagined other people I cared about feeling. I won’t go into any details, but some of the things this man’s wife and daughter…

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These Aren’t My Feelings: Absorbing Emotions as an INFJ

(is it just me, or is it you too?): why I’d rather go to the opera than church

Phenomenal writer. I couldn’t agree more.

(Comments are closed here. Please visit her blog to tell her how awesome her post is!)

No Language But A Cry

Sometimes I think all living is the story of what we do with our wounds. When we ask each other, How are you? what we are really asking is, What are you doing with your wounds today? Maybe Jesus asks the same question, when it comes down to it.

The human narrative is the narrative of woundedness. How we felt the cut to be fatal; how we try to bandage it with technology and distraction, or else inflict the same injuries upon each other; how we do our best to escape it but also feel inexplicably that such woundedness is us, is us not just in our most honest but in our most beautiful, and all our attempts at sewing really just begs for surgery; how it all feels so very much like homesickness.

The Gospel narrative, as I understand it, is also the narrative of woundedness. It is the…

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(is it just me, or is it you too?): why I’d rather go to the opera than church

Reblogged: Why our teens have lost faith in us?

This is a post that definitely deserves a read… it addresses some things about our society/education system that are extremely detrimental, and even dangerous. I read things like this and wonder how I will ever, one day, manage to be a parent. It will only be by the grace of God…

My Feelings My Freedom

Lately, I have been quite disturbed by the growing number of suicide cases among children. We read about these cases in newspapers everyday and feel upset for those few minutes but then get back to our routines. Have we ever tried to analyze the reasons for such actions?

Do we realize our responsibility as adults of this society to take steps to stop this act of weakness?

Suicide”- the word itself creates shivers and numbness in our mind.

Then why are the teenagers of this so called sophisticated, modern, independent, solution oriented and technologically advanced society allured into it?

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Reblogged: Why our teens have lost faith in us?

Black + White + Blurry All Over (reblogged)

Everything is so entangled… so grey…
What is grace and forgiveness and love in a situation like this? Situational morality? Like political issues and racial divides, not everything is red or blue, black or white. Really, nothing seems to be that way actually…

Behind the White Coat

IMG_3900

There it was. The second pink line.

Pregnant.

My heart sank.

I stood outside the exam room and took a deep breath. She was thirteen.

She knew as soon as she saw my face when I entered after knocking softly. She started sobbing uncontrollably. Her mother sat in the corner and looked sea sick. She was holding onto the edge of her chair for dear life, knuckles white, waiting for the world to turn upside down and topple her over.

“You are pregnant.”

Her mother dissolved into angry shouts about her whore of a daughter.

Not an auspicious beginning at all. Babies should be greeted with joy and love and excitement. My heart hurt.

“I know it seems unfair for me to ask, but have you thought about what you want to do with this pregnancy?”

Her mother spoke up before the patient could, her voice charged with bitterness. “She…

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Black + White + Blurry All Over (reblogged)

My Father Walking, and Twenty-Four Other Things

a soul that speaks to mine.
i love this.

Creative Thresholds

by William Michaelian

Am I truly limited by my senses, or are they, too, imagined? Can I prove my own existence? Is such proof desirable, or even necessary? What of my childhood, and everything else I am in the habit of believing I remember? Is memory a thing of the present? Is it a story told, and then countless times retold, changing and continuing of its own volition and accord? Drawing and writing; waking and dreaming; fiction and reality; life and death — I simply feel no need to know where, or if, one ends and the other begins. Does that make me strange? And yet what is strangeness, but the very delight of a beautiful, unaccountable world, ever the more vivid once we have learned to let it go?

Going HomeGoing Home

By firmly gripping a pencil in grade school and beyond, I developed a callous on the middle finger…

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My Father Walking, and Twenty-Four Other Things

have you forgotten you are creation’s favorite lover? (reblogged)

beautiful poem. I love that it has audio too. Hearing an author’s voice, the way they read, adds a whole other layer to the poetry.

be whole now

Wounded Angel

“Wounded Angel”

I first posted this poem in October 2011;
the audio is brand-new.
If you feel drawn to connect with me,
please do not hesitate to reach out.
If you like this, you may also enjoy the video of my poem,
“What If An Angel Took Hold Of Your Hand?”

All heaven’s angels weep today
Release, rejoice, they light your way
To fond embrace, you’ve felt their kiss
And steeped in wonder asked of this
Anointing touch, you’ve felt them near ~
That knowing sense, the lifting fear

You rush to define, to quantify
To ponder what and who and why
Yet while your mind dost creak, then grind
You lose the thread, remain behind,
Midst the everyday, the push, the hustle
You miss the exquisite wings in tender rustle
The rose in radiant blush, the butterfly’s flutter
Have you forgotten you are Creation’s favorite lover?

It is for…

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have you forgotten you are creation’s favorite lover? (reblogged)

Ask

Written by Jacob Ibrag

It’s not about where we end up,

because it all ends eventually. It’s

about what you’ve seen and the

people that have affected the way

you breathe. It’s about stopping

for a moment every now and then

to ask yourself if you have truly

lived. I know I haven’t, and that’s

alright.The human condition goes

on, and so will the rest of us.

Source: Ask

Ask