Feels Like Winter

Have you ever listened to Vivaldi: The Four Seasons? Antonio Vivaldi composed the four violin concerti as an expression of the four seasons. It’s quite extraordinary. As a child, it wasn’t uncommon for me to spend an afternoon with my close friend Sydney, playfully dancing around her living room to the sounds of this orchestral masterpiece. I have always been particularly fond of ‘Winter’. For me, it’s an emotional experience. 

I’m in the process of reading the book, Primal Leadership, written by Daniel Goleman, Richard Boyatzis, and Annie McKee. It focuses on the significance of Emotional Intelligence in successful leaders, both in business and life. Described are four Emotional Intelligence domains with eighteen corresponding competencies. The four domains are Self-Awareness, Self-Management, Social Awareness, and Relationship Management. It all starts with Self-Awareness.

“A leader can’t manage his emotions well if he has little or no awareness of them. And if his emotions are out of control, his ability to handle relationships will suffer.”

I feel big. Not like over-weight or extremely tall. Rather, I feel emotions in a big way. For a long time, too long in fact, I didn’t understand how I was feeling most of the time. It all seemed overwhelming and chaotic – an obnoxious cacophony of feelings that were out of sync and off key. For a good chunk of my adolescence, my family joked that I had a black heart because I lacked the ability to express my emotions effectively and struggled with empathy, which made me seem cold and aloof. Don’t judge them… it was all in good fun.

However, I did come to realize that those big feelings I was smashing into the depths of my soul were hardening, instead of dissipating as I had hoped they would. I tired of struggling to understand the emotions I was feeling. I needed to deconstruct them in order to process them in a healthy, effective way, and to better connect with others.

My head and heart simply cannot exclusively facilitate the multitude of emotions, along with corresponding thoughts, that I experience. When I keep them to myself, I am my only sounding board. The problem is I’m not generally the wisest voice when talking to myself, or the kindest. Sharing with others offers a fresh perspective. It also allows those in whom I am confiding the ability to be a part of my process, inviting them into my life, further building trust, and strengthening those relationships. 

Sharing is not an easy thing for someone who feels like crying is a weakness and vulnerability isn’t an option for fear of exposure, shame, judgement, and so on. This process was not easy for me to initiate. And honestly, if it hadn’t been for some very difficult life circumstances, I may have never taken the steps forward. 

But alas, I took one step at a time - I’m still stepping in fact.  

The first step was talking to people I trusted about whatever was in my head. I don’t know what I’m talking about most of the time which is funny because I talk a lot. I mean… a lot. But that’s the great thing about sharing. I don’t need to know what I’m talking about. If I already knew, I wouldn’t be working so hard to figure it out. And now I have a great network of close friends and family who I can count on when I need a listening ear or sage advice.

A neutral voice can offer clarity and solace which is why I started seeing a counselor. I absolutely encourage everyone to seek out counseling. It’s not a weakness to seek out help from an outside source. Writing is another wonderful tool. Journaling is surprisingly effective. So is blogging. 

So, today I feel big. I close my eyes and listen to Vivaldi: The Four Seasons, ‘Winter’. This is how I feel. It sounds pleasant, but somewhat poignant. It’s powerful and passionate, complex and chaotic. Yet, it’s hopeful. I can relate.

When I begin to understand and identify the plethora of emotions whirling around inside of me, things don’t seem quite as confusing. Instead, they begin to resemble a delicately crafted symphony of feelings existing together in harmony. There’s a beauty in it. But it takes constant practice to stay on key and in tempo. I’m not sure practice makes perfect in this case, but here I am practicing, right now. Thanks for being a part of my process and for listening… or reading. You get it.