On Being Held Captive by My Emotions

Growing up, I was always held captive by my emotions. I had no real control over my impulses. I would get angry and say things recklessly, often hurting the people I loved. It was like when something triggers you and you feel that tingling in the back of your neck. You try to bite your tongue because you know nothing good will come out. A wave of rage passes over you and you black out. Before you know it, you are lashing out verbally and physically. It feels sinfully good to release that pent-up tension. But once the adrenaline fades, guilt rushes in. You reflect on your outburst and realize the problem was never as big as your reaction. That was my reality.

I would also fall into depression for days, making reckless decisions to feel better. I was often erratic. Unstable. I never learned how to deal with what I was feeling. I only knew how to repress it and hope it would go away. But it never did. It got worse. I felt trapped inside my own body. Miserable. Exhausted. Always stuck in fight or flight mode.

When you live like that for long enough, your brain stops thinking clearly. Strong emotions like anger, fear, sadness, or excitement take over. Control shifts from the part that plans and makes good decisions to the part that just reacts. The stronger the emotion, the weaker your ability to think. You stop choosing your actions. You just react.

It was not until recently that I learned there is a strong link between being held captive by your emotions and addiction. When you cannot manage your emotions, you look for something, anything, to escape. For me, it was a serious gambling addiction that lasted five years. I chased the high because it gave me a break from myself, from the world. I could not control my emotions and, as a result, my impulses. That is another story to share someday.

It took me a long time to even realize what was happening. For years, I thought my emotions and impulses were just part of who I was, something I would always be stuck with. But I am starting to see that they are not my identity. They are patterns I can, in fact, change.

Learning to control my emotions instead of being controlled by them is still a work in progress. And I am not going to pretend that I have it all figured out. Some days I still lose control. Some days I still chase the wrong things to avoid feeling what I need to feel. But I am starting to understand that controlling your emotions does not mean you stop feeling them. It means you stop enabling them to decide for you.

It is a slow, painful process. But when I remember to stay present instead of running away, I take back a little more control. I start living instead of just surviving.

I know I am not perfect. I still feel everything, so deeply. But I have grown to be more aware, and I am trying to stay in the driver’s seat, even if my hands are still shaking.