With the exception of approximately four types of life events, I've felt the extremity of human emotion. I've had all but two of the highest of highs (marriage and childbirth) and lowest of lows (burying a child and imminent death). I've lived the most blessed of lives, and at the same time, I don't even remember anymore what not being heartbroken feels like. I've struggled (and still do) with the most pervasive of grief and guilt while also understanding the purest of joy.
I had a hard day today. A really hard one. And yet, I am persisting without seeming to flinch at what should probably be a wrenching angst. I don't know what to make of it.
In some senses I think it means I've grown, that I've learned to handle difficult feelings and how to live life for the gift that it is. In other senses, I worry that I'm emotionally closed off and incapable of really feeling almost anything personally affective, strongly.
What do you do if you can't tell if your humanity is as real as it gets or if you're a monster?
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