Visceral, not rational

Still smiling, sort of.

So I was going about my normal business today when the inevitable happened. I ran into someone I didn't expect, and the visceral overtook the rational.

I've always considered myself a pretty levelheaded person. Sure, I've got moments where my emotion gets in the way, but when in crises mode, I'm a rock. I don't make hasty decisions, I usually don't speak without thinking, and I have made a constant, concentrated effort to be a very calm person. Those who have known me a long time know that I haven't always been that way, but I am well aware of my downfalls, and consider myself a work in progress.

When I was 19, I was on a trip with my youth group, and one of the pastoral staff told me that he didn't want me around anymore because I talked too much. Ever since then, I've been self conscious, and I try to shut up whenever possible. (I also quit going to that church when we got home. I'm nothing if not able to take a hint.) I have found whenever I do talk about something, or tell a story, or get excited about something and say too much, then my mouth gets me in trouble, and I embarrass myself and/or others. So I work really hard on my small talk, on listening to others without comment, and on keeping my mouth shut.

All of this takes a lot of effort. It takes rational thought. It takes me constantly self-modulating, my voice, my face, my words. I'm really a very emotional person, and I always have been. So I have to work extra hard to shut that person down, to keep those thoughts and words inside, and to put forth the person others want to see or be around--because it was made abundantly clear to me that the person I was then (and am now, to a lesser degree) was not wanted, or even acceptable on a shallow level.

Today, all that went out the window. I saw a person I didn't expect to see in a place I didn't expect to see him, and it took everything in me not to shriek, cry and run. I managed to make it to a safe place with a safe person who knows about as much about me as anyone does, and that's when I broke down. I cried, I shook, I damn near hyperventilated, and it took me awhile to calm down. It was a completely visceral response, with nothing of the rational, calm demeanor I've come to adopt around the majority of the world. It was utterly out of my control.

I hate that feeling. I hate knowing that kind of person is still there underneath, after years of cultivating a less unruly personality. I hate that weakness in myself. I hate that everyone who knew me when I was younger would say "of course, that's how you are." No, it's not how I am. It's how I was. How I am is a calm person, able to take life in a stride--or at least, that's how I want to be.