The luxury of my feelings

Lately I find I'm terribly sensitive and feel fragile.  A recent minor and quickly corrected miscommunication with a friend left me weeping for an hour.  I get inordinately angry at inanimate objects, overly frustrated when something I'm cooking doesn't turn out, and I sometimes become rebellious against Sweet Hubby so quickly and unexpectedly that it takes us both by surprise.

As lovely a marriage as we have, as splendid a husband as he is, SH and I most definitely butt heads now and then, and when I'm as emotionally thin-skinned as I am these days, I usually end up fighting harder than I need to.  I'm up against a lot when we disagree.  He is highly educated with, as I like to joke, "more degrees than a thermometer", while I'm a college drop out.  He is an only child who never had to learn to share and is used to being in charge of his life and not having to compromise, while I grew up with siblings.  I often come to him for help (usually with the tech which dominates our lives), while he almost never turns to me unless he is sick.  And he is a man.  All of this places him in a position of invisible power, power he would never consciously wield, but which is understood in a native way, the way dogs understand who is alpha and who needs to show her belly.  The trouble is, I'm used to being the alpha in my own life too.  I'm not educated, but I'm terrifically smart and strong.  But because of the advantages I'm aware he has, I too often feel powerless.  When he and I are toe to toe, all I've got is guts and instinct.  Fortunately for me, he is man who can be reasoned with, who can listen and explain or amend.  But that's only when I come at him with reason.  When I lead with the heat emotions, as I seem to be doing more of lately, then he also fights from a place of defense and survival.

I understand this emotional fragility I'm feeling.  Four years of the ignorance, hypocrisy, corruption, and mendacity from the Trump administration, and this last year + of COVID anxiety, as well as the social and racial divide that has come noisily to the surface rightly demanding to be dealt with, along with the continuing and growing threat climate change poses, these circumstances have worked on all of us, grinding away at our sense of safety, our hope for the future, our trust in our leaders.  I'm surprised any of us are still standing.

Yet even as I give way to tears, self-pity, and lashing out, I'm aware that the ability and right to have and express these feelings are privileges not afforded to many people.  I don't imagine the people in Yemen, in Syria, in Palestine, in COVID-ravaged households have the luxury of pouting because their avocadoes have brown spots, or of throwing temper tantrums because their marriage partner said something that hurt their feelings.  I don't imagine the people living in the ever-growing number of tent communities around the city have the luxury of saying "I'm bored, I kind of don't feel like doing anything today, I'm slightly depressed and think I'll just pull the covers over my head."  I don't imagine someone who is working full time from home as well as educating and entertaining four children has the luxury of saying "I'm so sensitive, I should just take a day off."

We feel what we feel, we think what we think.  I know that.  But I also know that it behooves me (isn't that a great word?) to stay as aware as possible of how fortunate I am, not to take it for granted, and always to keep in mind that indulging my feelings is a luxury I have not earned but have been given by the good fortunate of whatever mighty forces come together to make up my life.