Tossing out a Theory of Emotions

My six-year-old daughter is teaching me a lot these days (and giving me gray hair!)  If you asked her if she were loved, she is likely to tell you “No.  I have a terrible life and people are mean to me.  I do not like being me.”  She may also include that I am mean to her and not her siblings because I do not allow her to have her way and sometimes she has to wait for others to do some activity. 

If you were to watch her interact at school, or really anywhere other than home, you would see a smart, kind, creative, happy little girl.  The thoughts she carries deep in her brain are so incongruent with the life she lives.

The therapist in me sees warning signs for a future of depression and anxiety.  The mom in me is heartbroken that she truly has a difficulty seeing herself as loved.  If she were not my child, I would wonder what type of home environment was feeding these thoughts.  We are not a perfect family.  I am not a perfect mom and at times I say things I regret.  But, we are a loving, safe, consistent, and fun home.  We cuddle under blankets and read or have a movie night.  We hug frequently.  We say “I love you” several times a day.  We laugh together.  Play games.  Talk during car rides instead of watching movies or listening to music.  Every night our children are tucked in by parents – songs are sung, backs are rubbed, prayers are said, and those quiet and deep questions are explored.  Our home screams “we love our children deeply”, and yet there is one for whom this love does not penetrate to the same depth it does the others.  There remains one in our home who feels different; who feels alone and unloved.

I get my six-year-old child for I too carry the same burden of feeling unloved.  Here is where my child is teaching me – I blamed my childhood and some of the traumatic events that took place.  I am sure that played a part in keeping weighing down the burden.  Now, looking at my own child who has to the best of my knowledge never experienced a traumatic event, I wonder if there is not an innate personality trait that must simply be accepted.

As I explore my motivation for achievement and having a long list of accomplishments, under this is my insecurity and fear that I am not loved or even lovable.  I hear people talking about their faith life and how they can sense God’s love and feel it, and I mean really feel it.  I have had glimpses of this, but something in me says they are experiencing something more that I can imagine.  The temptation is to be jealous and envious at their spiritual togetherness and to berate myself for not allowing my heart to experience God’s love in this palpable manner.

So here is my theory.  It is not fully formed and I am not settled that it is completely right.  I toss it out for conversation.  What if this dysthymic disposition I carry and it seems my oldest child also carries, what if this is who we are and something that must be accepted?  St. Augustine wrote about not allowing our feelings to be our final authority, but rather our intellect.  What if then, our act of faith is to act with the cerebral knowledge that we are indeed loved, to cling to the rationale argument that supports the fact we are loved despite feeling the opposite at the emotional level?

I became a therapist to fix this problem – to heal the emotional life; to heal my emotional wounds.  I still believe in therapy.  I believe I have experienced a great deal of emotional healing and wounds that were once raw and infectious are now scarred over and healthy.  I am though questioning the authority I have given emotions.  I follow my gut in making decisions, and frequently my intuition is accurate.  But, if feelings are counter to the rational, I must choose to go with the rational.  The truth is in the facts.  My oldest has two parents that would lay down their life for her, friends that enjoy her, teachers that adore her, grandparents that would give her the world – she is well loved.  I am surrounded by love and kindness.  And God’s truth – I am with you always . . . I am love.  These are the facts. 

My theory – I may never “feel” loved the way I want to on an emotional level and perhaps I need to accept this as part of my personality structure – part of how my brain works.  Instead of fighting to try and fix what I think is broken, maybe I need to accept that it is not as broken as I think and instead may actually be a gift.  Perhaps it is this dysthymia that allows me to be compassionate and empathic towards the unloved because I know the pain that accompanies this emotional poverty.