Car Maintenance
By Erin Deborah Waks
I told one of my best friends the other day that I don’t need to see my therapist at the moment because I’m pretty stable.
‘That’s not how it works,’ she retorted. ‘It’s like car maintenance. You don’t wait until you have a breakdown to ask for help. You need regular MOTs, constant check-ins, and a whole lot of support and nurture along the way.’
It was great advice, I’ll admit. It revealed, in a microcosmic way, the way I approach myself and my life: my minor problems, small-scale sadnesses, don’t feel valid in my eyes. Only when I am unable to cope do I consider my own feelings worth bothering other people for.
Instead of telling a friend a comment or joke they made hurt me, I berate myself for having the insecurity that was triggered in the first place. Like it’s my fault I was too sensitive. Instead of feeling upset with someone, I convince myself it’s a turn-off to be clingy and that I’m too dependent, thereby also feeling pathetic and pulling away further, as if I have something to prove. Instead of asking someone to reassure me of something, I decide I should be able to reassure myself alone, as if I’m the only human being who should be able to live entirely devoid of needing others.
The other day I tried something different. I found myself missing my boyfriend for absolutely no reason at all. Normally when I feel this way, when I feel clingy or emotional, I berate myself for being weak and pathetic and try to ‘girl boss’ myself into feeling independent instead. Because I seem to have decided I’m the only girl who’s not allowed to feel normal girlfriend emotions. That I’m significantly higher maintenance than any other girlfriend in the history of girlfriends, and so should not bother my boyfriend with this. It rarely works. And, it usually leads to me feeling worse about objectively smaller things.
Instead, this time, I said to myself, ‘of course you miss your boyfriend, Erin. You love him. Allow it.’
So I did. I curled up on the sofa with a blanket, a cup of tea and a romcom and just felt sad for a bit.
Rather than my usual emotional overwhelm, it kind of - went away. Instead of feeling like a demanding, clingy partner with too many emotional needs, I just felt like a normal one, a girl in love who’d had such a busy day she hadn’t had time for connection and was now missing it. And when we did talk later that evening, I felt nothing other than the excitement one gets when they see their crush’s name pop up on their phone.
I often feel my emotions are ‘too much’, but it’s rare that things I feel are strange, surprising, or intense. The irony is, if I permitted myself to feel the natural emotions I believe to be ‘too much’, I’d probably avoid the overwhelming, panicky emotions that border on actually being as such. And then said emotions are so far from ‘too much’ even I couldn't convince myself I’m being unreasonable.
If I told my colleagues at work I need a day off when feeling tired or overwhelmed, I’d avoid the semi-regular burnout from which I suffer. If I cancelled on friends without the guilt I feel when wanting time for myself, I’d avoid getting overly upset over little things and desperate for space. If I told my boyfriend the little ridiculous things on my mind (of the ‘would you still love me if I was a worm,’ the ‘do I look fat in this,’ the ‘is she prettier than me’ variety) instead of constantly shushing myself in fear he’ll realise I can sometimes be just as high-maintenance and insecure as other humans, there would probably be fewer of them to grapple with.
If I stopped trying to convince everyone else I’m not ‘too much’ and started convincing myself, I might have a chance to actually believe it for once. Easier to fix a car with a flat tire than a broken engine.
