The Musings of an Internal Christine in an External World

Emotions are messy, and emotions are powerful. As a Millennial with one foot in a previous generation that prided themselves on digging in to get things done, even if that meant tabling their emotions, but also with one foot in the emerging movement of the upcoming generations aimed at expressing their emotions and feelings, I see the conflict, I understand the divide, and I feel the tension between the groups. In the last 10-ish years, society has seen a shift, and people are not only feeling things, but they are also trying to find ways to express those things instead of burying them. Like the “Hippie Revolution” before, these people are disenchanted with the way society wants to sweep emotions under the rug, but where the Hippies made waves by detaching from the mainstream, this new movement is making waves by actually feeling, expressing, and demanding in the mainstream. This causes discomfort, because for ages we’ve simply learned how to be upset and move on, or we've put feelings in a box to deal with later, or we’ve detached and helped ourselves because there was no help from society. Now, though, we see people standing up in society and expressing their discomfort, their emotions, their feelings, and their dissonance. For those of the previous generations, this is uncomfortable, because they’ve always been taught not to whine, not to make waves, and to just “deal with it.” 

But why?

Why should we “just deal with it?” In “just dealing with it,” we’ve created a society that works itself to death, has all time high levels of depression and anxiety, and thrives on unhealthy coping mechanisms to simply try and “feel something.” 

Is this wrong? Maybe not. Honestly, I think the line between right or wrong is incredibly subjective and dependent on your agenda and who you are. The lines of right and wrong were created because society does need to function without complete chaos, I’m certainly not denying that. Similarly, moral and immoral are also incredibly important, though along the way, people, religion, leaders, etc., have used those words to control, judge, and manipulate people, too. No system is perfect, and no one person has all the answers. Even Nature isn’t perfect. It just is.

What we’ve established, therefore, is that there is absolutely nothing in this world that can tell you exactly what is right or wrong, or how to feel or how not to feel. Now, let’s circle back to this emerging generation bringing emotions and feelings to the forefront, and how there’s resistance to this. For so long we’ve been taught that it’s wrong to feel, it’s right to maintain the status quo; it’s wrong to make waves, it’s right to keep the peace. Until recently, I’ve been sitting back, taking in the energy of this emergence and sitting with it. It started as uncomfortable for me - “look at this generation of whiny babies who are “triggered” over everything. Life is hard, life is pain - just deal with it, stop trying to be so different.” But then I stopped to reflect on some of the emotions and pain I’ve felt in my life, and how I simply “dug in and moved on.” Have I survived? Absolutely. Have I thrived? Honestly, for the most part, yes. But am I whole? Am I authentic? Do I hold trauma and coping mechanisms now that affect me from becoming my best self? Most definitely.   

I’m not saying I’m a perfect example of a person “walking between generations” because, as we’ve already established, there is no “perfect.” But I do think I have an interesting middle-ground perspective on this current emotional emergence that will resonate with the people on either side of this divide, and my hope is to reach out a hand to each side and give a starting point for productive thought and discussion. At the end of the day, people will do and be who they want. Like Mel Robbins says, Let Them. You can disagree or agree, you can bury your emotions or express them, and you can hate or love, but just because you want it one way doesn’t mean everyone feels the same way as you. Instead, maybe if we open up about our emotions and triggers, we allow others to do the same, and we walk into a world of honesty and support with less judgement and hostility, just maybe we can create a healthier environment as a whole.

So, let's begin.

I’m, on all accounts, a decently privileged, middle class white girl. I grew up in a loving, middle class family who worked their butts off to make ends meet, but also made enough that I always had everything I needed and most of what I wanted. I was given opportunities, raised “morally,” and taught that I was smart and could do anything I set my mind to. I was also taught that I could feel things, but not too much, because you do have to grind in this life, and you can’t take things too personally. Don’t sacrifice yourself, but also don’t sacrifice others. Work hard and be successful, but stay humble and know how lucky you are. 

I was a good, hard-working kid. I graduated in the top of my class in high school and college, always had a job, then started a business, then another, and have run both successfully. The snapshots of me growing up and my professional career are great. Not perfect, of course, but great. Now I’m a 34 year old educated white woman with two successful businesses, I have a wonderful life and friends, and I have animals I adore and who love me. On the outside looking in, I’ve got it all together. People would describe me as strong, passionate, outgoing, and a big personality. They’d say I don’t take crap, I’m opinionated, incredibly hard-working, lucky, and living my dream. 

But on the inside? Internally, I’m an anxious perfectionist with a binge eating disorder who feels completely unlovable and believes I’m never good enough, never successful enough, and that no one actually likes me unless I’m doing something for them. I struggle ceaselessly with isolation and crushing self doubt. 

Now you might be rolling your eyes, saying I’m being dramatic, that clearly my life isn’t that bad and whatever I’m feeling is ridiculous. “Look how good everything is on paper! Stop being emotional, you’re blessed and you should be thankful.” Or, if you know me, you might be absolutely baffled because you had no idea what was going on inside of me. Don’t take it personally - there aren’t many people I let in. Over the last few years I’ve been trying to allow myself to be more authentic, but it doesn’t come easily for me. If you fall in the third camp of reading that paragraph above and feeling it resonate, I see you, and the reason I’m writing this is because my journey has led me to understand the beauty behind the pain of unpacking emotions, so I hope this helps you, too.

If you’re still with me, I want to give you a little snapshot of some of the moments in my life that I’ve realized put little shards in me, creating that Internal Christine. You can take one quick Google of my name to find the External Christine - that successful woman with her shit together - but that’s the Christine society wants me to portray: the one who has it all. What I think is important, now more than ever, is to show seemingly small moments in my life which were brushed off by those older than me, or those in power, or those I looked up to, or by my own self, to create enough little shards that hid an Internal Christine behind the External Christine. These moments are just a few of the ones that I’m comfortable enough to share. 

• At 11 years old, an adult who I respected yelled at and belittled me for doing something wrong with a horse I loved. They didn’t ask me if I knew it was wrong, they simply yelled down the aisle, in front of everyone, that I was wrong, and when I tried to hide my tears, they got even more upset and claimed I was rolling my eyes. When I tried to explain, they didn’t want to hear it and stormed off. Later, the other adults expressed to me that the person was “having a bad day,” so I should “let it go” and not worry about it. So I did, and I learned I shouldn’t cry.

  
  

• At 13 years old, my mentor, who I looked up to more than anyone else in the world at that time, cornered me and told me I was a selfish, spoiled child who thought she was better than she was, and I needed to learn how to be humble, or I would never be successful or liked if I kept it up. Was I an adolescent girl with hormones and big feelings at the time? Yep. Has every adolescent since the beginning of time, whether male or female, gone through the same thing? Also yep. But instead of understanding that, and instead of approaching me in a way that helped me grow, I was instead told everything I was feeling and dealing with was selfish and wrong, and because of it, no one was going to like me. I felt like a deer cornered by a wolf, and there was nothing I could do except dissociate and try to un-feel what I was feeling, because then maybe I’d survive, and maybe the wolf and his pack would like me instead of eating me. So I did, and it seemed to work. Whenever I would try and talk about it, the excuses flew about how that mentor probably “came across wrong,” “didn’t mean it that way,” or “was also going through a lot,” so I should just brush it off. So I did. I buried all my emotions from that day, and I learned that you’re only as good as what people think of you, so be who they want you to be - don’t be too big, too loud, or too much.

  
  

• At 23 years old, in one of my first office jobs of the college degree I got, my boss informed me I was working too fast. My numbers were fine, but I needed to slow down. When I pressed, I was informed that it was just “the way it was” and “it is what it is.” So I slowed down, and I learned that being better and more efficient in most environments isn’t praised, so it’s better to just be mediocre.  

  
  

• At 25 years old, a client’s husband stormed into the center of the arena, while I was teaching his wife, to scream in my face that I wasn’t pushing the horse enough, that I was progressing too slow, and that I was a joke. As I stood my ground while the person almost triple my age loudly berated me inches from my face, the several other adults in the arena, including his wife and other fellow professionals, said nothing and did nothing to help me, so I learned it’s better to ignore hate and save yourself than to help someone in need.

  
  

• At 28 years old, I had been on the dating apps and started a conversation with a seemingly normal guy. He seemed like a good guy with a good job who said the right things and was supportive. We decided he should come over for a drink. I told him we were absolutely not having sex, and he agreed. One thing led to another, and suddenly he was undressing me. I paused, confused about how he managed to do that. But I was wet, and it was just sex, right? So I kept going, and then he railed into me, literally slicing me open and making me bleed like a stuck pig. He came, laughed at the blood, kissed my forehead, and let me know I was a number well into the triple digits for him. After that he left, and the next day I composed a message telling him I was actually in pain and unsure why or how that whole thing even happened. He responded with a laughing emoji and a rude sexual GIF, telling me we should just have more sex so it hurt less. Shocked, I blocked him, moved on, and told no one. I didn’t say “no,” and I let him in my house, so wasn’t I the fool? What I learned from that was it was my fault, and I was just a number in his book while I recovered from physical pain and attempted to bury the emotions I believed I didn’t deserve to have about it.

  
  

• At 31 years old, a barn owner cornered me while I was alone in the barn and threatened me because I “blatantly didn’t have a rider sign a waiver and lied about it.” When I tried to explain that I actually forgot, and I was sorry, he became more threatening, and for the first time in my life I realized what it felt like to actually fear for my safety at the hands of another person. When I approached others about the situation later, they shrugged it off as him being emotional and being male, so I, therefore, shouldn’t be emotional about it. So I disconnected from the worry and learned you’re never safe, your apology doesn't hold weight, and your village doesn’t always have your back.

  
  

• In my early 30s, I had met the man of my dreams, or so I thought. He was wonderful - he showed up and did things for me, for my family, for my friends, and just seemed to have a big, genuine heart. Over time, though, he continued to do things for everyone else - but not for me. I had to beg, plead, ask, and then if he did it, it was like he deserved a medal of honor, even though he’d drive 2 hours out of his way every month just to give money to an old friend for a haircut. But, I thought, that’s okay, because clearly I’m needy, so I’ll just do the things myself. So I did. At that point, though, what’s the point of a relationship? Supposedly intimacy and emotional connection, right? Except I’d get naked and he’d ask why I was naked, or he'd say that it was awkward that I was naked. I would then feel rejected and shamed, and stay clothed, but then he’d want to know why I didn’t want to have sex with him, and that I was making him feel unloved because of that. More, on my most insecure days, when I asked if he’d still love me if I got fat, he’d inform me that he wouldn’t, “because that would mean you have no willpower, and why would I love someone with no willpower?” When I finally realized the relationship had nothing for me and I was dating a narcissist, I broke it off. He told me I would regret it, and he kept a perfect image of himself close to my friends, so when I tried to lean on them for support, all I found were knives in my back, because there was "no way" I could be telling the truth. That’s how I learned trust is nearly impossible, and when it’s him vs you, your word loses. 

  
  

• At 34 years old, after a lot of self reflection, I was pretty sure I was more self-aware and ready to get back in the dating game. I started talking to a guy who was so like me I couldn’t believe it - business owner, driven, emotionally intelligent, animal lover - and we could talk about anything. For the first time, I had someone who made me feel safe, seen, and loved on each and every level. He stood by my side through several big emotional upheavals in my life, and I his, in the first few weeks of us being together, and he seemed to be the lighthouse in the storm I had been looking for. I told him about my past, he told me about his, and we both saw each other and understood. As things go, we finally decided to sleep together. I’ve always loved passion in the bedroom, and even after the other experiences of hurt in that area, my hopeless romantic side continued to win. He did all the right things, said all the right words… and then he bit me. Now, listen, I've never minded a good bite. But not THAT hard, and I said so. He moved to my other boob… and did the same thing, just as painfully hard. I cried out and said absolutely not, and he looked at me with sad eyes, claiming it wasn’t as bad as I was making it seem. I was torn, because this was the exact opposite feeling of the man I’d been communicating with and holding onto previously. I asked him nicely to please just be less aggressive, and we moved on. Until he bit my thigh, and I tensed, and then he bit my other thigh. I grabbed his hair to pull him off me, used my safe word, and he stopped biting… and started slapping my legs and private areas instead. Some of his friends stopped by unannounced, interrupting the discussion I was hoping to have, and I left while they were still there, texting him that I’d like to talk about what happened the next day. After over 24hrs of disconnected texts and avoidance tactics - incredibly unlike the guy that previously called me multiple times a day just to hear my voice while he was driving, or sent me random videos of him doing commonplace things - he finally texted me that there was no way this relationship was going to work, but he knew I’d find the right person, so good luck. That was it - we simply never talked about it. I haven’t heard from him since, and my body is covered in deep, painful bruises that are still receding while my mind was left wondering what whirlwind trip I had just been taken on. And from that, I learned it’s always too good to be true, and it's best to never, ever give your heart away.

I’m honestly not sure if my stories are that much different from other people's due to the simple fact that we, as a society, don’t really talk about this stuff. Maybe you’ve read these and are absolutely shocked, or maybe you’ve read these and realize you resonate with a lot of them. Whichever side of that statement you’re on, the point is we should be talking about this, and we should be confronting our emotions, our feelings, and our thoughts head-on. We should be discussing this stuff more openly, because who knows what beauty could come from people understanding their own emotions and the emotions of others instead of burying them and finding them unworthy. If we as a society keep going around the sun the way we have, then we continue to look at External Christine and see that I have everything and more. It’s like the perfect social media profile. I won’t sit here and deny that I’m not living an amazing life; I wake up thankful every single day, and I know I am luckier than many, many people in this world. But when you read those stories and you hear just a taste of the internal dialogue that plagues me from growing up in a society where expressing yourself too much is frowned upon and other’s emotions and actions are justified and shrugged off… Do you think that’s right? Do you think that’s the way we should continue to live? Are we thriving, or are we surviving and just trying to appear to thrive? Why can’t we be softer? Why can’t we be more open about our emotions? Why can’t we demand more respect, more boundaries, more care? I am sure there are many more people like me - they look like they’ve got it together and that things glance right off of them, but their inside is a constant reel of emotions and feelings that society has told them to bury and move on, or be considered weak.

While I don’t pretend to have any answers, what I do hope comes from this, if you’ve been inclined to read to the end, is that you allow yourself the grace to take a minute and feel. Feel into yourself. Feel into your inner child. Feel into your relationships. Feel into your peace. Feel into your anger. Feel into your shame. Feel into your love. Feel into how you speak to others. Feel into it all. I encourage you to feel it, let it work through you, and express it, because one by one, we can create a world where we’re not just “getting it done,” but we can create a world where our internal and external lives can inspire, ignite, and enhance not only ourselves, but those around us.