No Strings Attached
The other morning I woke up decidedly on the wrong side of the bed, and it went downhill from there. My feelings became the filter through which I saw, heard, and interpreted everything and everyone, and it wasn’t pretty. I felt like a marionette. You know. One of those puppets with strings attached to different parts of the body, including, at least in my case, my mouth. Like The Lonely Goatherd in The Sound of Music, I was at the mercy of the circumstances and emotions pulling on my strings.
Control, it seemed, was out of my hands. Or was it?
What if instead of a marionette I could be more like a hand puppet? Like Daniel Tiger, X the Owl, or Lady Elaine Fairchilde in Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, it could be my hand in charge. A hand puppet isn’t pulled about by external forces. Guidance comes from within.
As a 4 on the Enneagram, emotions are my thing. There isn’t an emotion I haven’t experienced, and the ones that a lot of people work hard to avoid come easily to me. Because big emotions don’t scare me, I can be the calm in the midst of your storm. A quiet, safe place to show up with your grief and sadness, anger and fear, I won’t try to talk you out of how you feel.
As it turns out, being a feeling kind of girl is my gift.
It’s also my curse
Because I tend to lead with my heart, I can easily turn over the controls to my feelings and react accordingly. With, as you might imagine, very mixed results. I’ve been practicing not letting my feelings run the show. Catching myself before losing myself to the emotions of the moment, and that practice is paying off. But this puppet metaphor feels next level. There are no strings attached to those emotions, other than the ones I attach myself.