Feelings, Nothing More Than Feelings

Do you remember that song from the 70’s? “Feelings, nothing more than feelings” the singer intoned. It was covered by a number of artists. It is a song about lost love. It is maudlin and sentimental and not particularly good musically. And it is an ear worm, so if you now have that melody rolling around in your head. I am sorry!

At the risk of beating the same old drum in these blogs I find myself forced to write again about feelings. There is so much to hold in our emotional reservoir. Yesterday there was a horrendous explosion in Beirut. A friend, who lives in Eastern Ontario but is Lebanese, immediately sent out requests for prayers for family and friends in that city. Of course the feeling of fear immediately kicked in. Was it some kind of terrorist attack? Was it the beginning of global threat? According to news reports today it was an explosion of a stockpile of ammonium nitrate. The impact of the explosion was vast resulting in many deaths and injuries. The feelings it triggered were immediate, an ‘oh no – now what’ kind of feeling.

I find myself mesmerized by the antics of the political leader to the south. I prefer to not speak his name. And while I cannot believe what is happening there I also cannot stop watching the new reports and interviews as the political leadership unravels. I feel a sense of betrayal of the political system and a feeling of paralysis in the face of a democracy in decline.

Mostly though, I am stuck in my own feeling loop. Covid is getting me down. It is not fear of the virus. It is the wariness, the judgement, the being on guard, the watching who wears a mask and who doesn’t, it is making sure no one touches me and I touch no one. All these things have stealthily crept into my psyche so deeply that when I see people shake hands in a television show I find myself thinking, “They shouldn’t be doing that. They might be transmitting the virus.” And I have become so thin-skinned and grumpy. I often have to stop myself from a retort or a comment by reminding myself that is not ‘pre-Covid me’ that is ‘pandemic me’. I don’t like that ‘me’ I have become.

Oh and anxiety – let me say a word about anxiety – not just mine but others as well. How to measure and judge anxiety? When to ramp up because someone else is anxious about something and maybe I am being inattentive? Or, when to walk away because I do not want to catch anxiety fearing it as infectious as the virus? That waffling is enough to produce it’s own anxiety so then I get depressed, well, not clinically depressed but sad and lonely and lethargic because, well, just because of stupid Covid.

I invite people over but it is always with that caveat – “if you feel safe”. Plans for the fall and winter are all prefaced with, “Depending on what happens.” Everything feels tentative and lacking in direction and focus.

I am a melange of feelings. I am not sure that is a good use of the word melange but I like it and according to the dictionary it’s definition is “mixture” and that is what I am feeling – a dizzying, chaotic, depressing mixture of feelings!

What to do with all of this? Well, first step is to talk to some others and realize I am not alone. Second step, it seems, is to write a blog about it to see if any of my readers agree or share the same ‘melange’! Third step is an appointment, set for tomorrow, with my Spiritual Director to put some theological and spiritual framework around it. Fourth is to remember that Jesus, who is our human experience of God, had lots of feelings too. It is okay to have feelings. Even when I don’t like them.