Holding it in

 I'd been holding it in for so long

I knew eventually 

the water in my eyes

would swell

and spill

It had been getting more

difficult

to swallow

the orange-sized lump

in my throat

And I was having to blink

faster to try

to dry

the tears

before they started

I'd been holding

and hiding it

for too long

The strain, the stress, the exhaustion from tensing my muscles and my insides. From my face, to my guts, to my toes. Today, I'm not one to NOT tell you what I'm thinking or feeling. So when I'm in a situation where I have to "hold it in," it literally makes me sick to my stomach.

Sadness, Anger, Frustration. It's the negative emotions that we are all sometimes asked by others or ourselves to hold in. Positive emotions burst out uncontrollably in the form of smiles, laughter, hugs, or a "happy dance."

It's an illusion that holding it in is better. I used to fall for it. Afraid to feel the pain of having to relive something in order to let it go. But once it's released, I always feel better, healthier.

Letting it build up is a mistake I learned repeatedly when I was a child. When I was around 7 years old, and my parents were going through a divorce, I held in a lot. One day, I was sitting at the dining room table in my grandmother's house, drawing a picture of Mickey Mouse. I could hear the voices of my parents and grandparents arguing outside of the front door to the house. I was working on Mickey's ears, becoming angrier as the voices grew louder. I pressed the ballpoint pen onto the paper so hard, that I pressed into the wood of the dining room table. Next, I heard screaming. It was coming from me. I was running through the house toward the front door. I remember the shocked faces as they stepped back inside. My father scooped me up into his arms. I punched him and screamed until my screams turned to tears. He carried me into the kitchen and cradled me in his arms until the tears stopped. I scared myself, and everyone else. 

After a few years, I thought I had learned to control my anger. When I started to feel angry, I would walk away, remove myself from the situation so that I wouldn't engage in any kind of altercation. 

My mom was at work, and the babysitter was a woman who had a child around the same age as my sister and I. There had been issues that I told my mom about, so the babysitter was asked to watch us at our home, instead of hers. On the first day of watching us at our home, her daughter walked into our kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I asked her what she was doing and she said she was hungry. I told her that in the future, she needed to tell me this, and not just make herself at home. She told her mother, the babysitter, who became outraged and started yelling at me. I started to get angry so I started to walk away. Then the babysitter made a very bad mistake. She grabbed me by the arm. Then the conflict became physical. I went into my room and she followed me in before I could shut the door. She pushed me onto the bed and was hovering over me, trying to hold me down. I bunny kicked her in the chest like a cat with it's prey, mercilessly and endlessly. I punched her face, pulled hair, and scratched her arms until she left our home in tears. She never babysat us again. I remember telling my mom it was like I was a volcano, that I could feel the emotions throughout my body gaining momentum before they burst out. 

I wasn't in control. So I started to hold it in. This backfired. My mom found a new babysitter that we loved. One morning, my mom was dropping us off on her way to work. As my mom was reminding me of things to do after school, she suddenly stopped and asked me if I was okay. I said I was fine. She said, "No, you're not. Gina, you're crying." It was only then that I realized there were tears running down my face. My mom found a therapist for me right away. 

Anger and Sadness are fraternal twins - sisters. And I was their triplet.