I agree in the idea that I, along with most, am selective in my perceptions and the methods I use in engaging my emotions; taking responsibility for them and logically displaying them as appropriate (according to the environment and people in my own audience). However, I truly do not believe that I engage in the same level of “logically displaying” emotions that most people do. I am going to make the claim that I am hyper-sensitive in that arena, especially in the areas of the heart. This is especially true when issues concerning my family and friends arise. In many ways I feel that “logically displaying” your emotions (especially when emotions such as anger, disappointment, love, disgust, fear and happiness) are running through your veins like streams of lava is nearly impossible. This is the case for myself; a strong, outspoken, and incredibly passionate and naturally dramatic person. When I am experiencing an emotion it is like a wave that takes over my body, it is as if instincts take over and those emotions are running the show.
There is a particular instance, a true story that actually happened recently, that best explains what I mean about something inside me, not necessarily logical thinking taking over and controlling a particular situation. About two weeks ago I had an extremely busy day. I left my room at eleven o’clock in the morning, only to return past midnight. I worked, ate dinner, had ran a (in which I am a director) rehearsal, two meetings back to back with different people, then ran an Alpha Psi Omega meeting in which I am President. This is important to note because my roommate is a cast member in the show and a member of Alpha Psi. When I left that morning, she was asleep; I called her that evening to get dinner (and left her a voicemail) and by the time I went to rehearsal that night, I had not seen or spoken to her. Then she didn’t come to rehearsal, this not being like her, I assumed something really important must have come up or I did not get my conflict sheet correctly, and when the stage manager called her she got her voicemail; I thought “I’ll ask her at Alpha Psi.” When she did not show up for that, I thought “something must be wrong, this is really out of character, to miss two important meetings, to not pick up her phone or answer text messages, something must have happened; I’ll talk to her when I get back to the room.”
When I arrived to my room and she wasn’t there I became nervous, very nervous. Actually I don’t think there is a good enough adjective to explain how that nervousness grew into a gut wrenching fear. I found a note from her on my desk saying that her parents were in Las Vegas and she was “going home for a few,” not knowing when the note was written I had no idea when she left. Not knowing exactly what to do, with time passing and continuingly calling her only to get her voicemail I grew even more anxious. One of my roommates uncles’ was a cop in South Jersey, so she offered to call him to see if any reports had been filed about an accident in that area. He hadn’t heard of anything and suggested we call her house, the local police department by her house and near our school. Not having her home phone number, we Googled her last name and town. Looked in her drawer to try to find her sister’s number and came across their address. Then I continued to call her home phone. When she didn’t pick up there, I thought the absolute worst.
It was now after one in the morning and all these horrible scenarios of her in the car and getting into an accident flooded my mind. I decided to then call Rider security to see if her car was on campus, hospitals, the Alloway state police department, the Deptford local police, the Lawrenceville police department, anything in route between Rider and her house. It wasn’t until I spoke to the police that I became, I’m going to say almost hysterical. I and six of my roommates, and one of their boyfriends were calling anyone and everyone. My main reason for concern was the fact that 1) it was not like her to be late, let alone not show up to something and 2) for her not to pick up the phone or the very least text me and 3) I was the only one she would have really contacted; my roles as director of the show she missed rehearsal for, President of the meeting she missed and clearly, her roommate left me as her number one contact person. If she never contacted me, there really wasn’t anyone else she would have contacted.
The police dispatchers were very helpful, but when they asked me particular questions, it all became too real, too strenuous, and too emotional and that is when I broke. Until I spoke to the police I was the most calm, logical, rational one of the bunch. Until I spoke to the police I was in control. Once the realization of what was occurring and could have potentially happened hit, I damn near lost it.
In Putting Your Emotions To Work, by Sylvia Bushell she describes anxiety, one of the storngest emotions I was feeling at that time. She claimed that being emotionally intelligent is "not only managing anxiety but understanding the message that anxiety gives." She defines anxiety as a reaction which "tells us we are uncertain about what is to come."
In that situation, an extreme circumstance, where emotions were raw and tensions were high I feel there was no “logical” or “appropriate” way to act and clearly no “management” of emotions, no matter how “emotionally intelligent” I may be or how I scored on my EQ test. This does seem to contrast with Bushell's claim that "everyone has the capacity to manage their emotions." In the case of what I consider an emergency, there was no thought process, no "management" only instinctive actions. In my mind there was no “audience” despite the fact that I was surrounded by roommates and eventually police, it was only me, myself, I and utter desperation and fear.
I am relived to say what eventually had happened was I got into contact with her (at two o’clock in the morning) through a mutual friend and she had locked her keys, purse and phone in her trunk while she went home and stopped by this friend’s house on her way back to Rider. Believe it or not, when I found out that she was ok was my absolute breaking point. The flow of emotions, the “lava” I referred to before erupted from every orifice and thus I became, what looked like a basket case. As a side note, I would just like to say that I have no regrets in what I had done because not only did all the girls I live with realize we don’t emergency contact information for each other, but god forbid something did happen, I believe in my heart, I did the right thing; whether or not I was “carried away” by my emotions and passionate personality. And all in despite the fact that I am mocked about what happened still today by others, I really couldn’t care less what anyone thinks. I care about my roommate and her safety and I would do the same and react the same way if anyone I cared for I thought was in danger or harmed.
There is a particular instance, a true story that actually happened recently, that best explains what I mean about something inside me, not necessarily logical thinking taking over and controlling a particular situation. About two weeks ago I had an extremely busy day. I left my room at eleven o’clock in the morning, only to return past midnight. I worked, ate dinner, had ran a (in which I am a director) rehearsal, two meetings back to back with different people, then ran an Alpha Psi Omega meeting in which I am President. This is important to note because my roommate is a cast member in the show and a member of Alpha Psi. When I left that morning, she was asleep; I called her that evening to get dinner (and left her a voicemail) and by the time I went to rehearsal that night, I had not seen or spoken to her. Then she didn’t come to rehearsal, this not being like her, I assumed something really important must have come up or I did not get my conflict sheet correctly, and when the stage manager called her she got her voicemail; I thought “I’ll ask her at Alpha Psi.” When she did not show up for that, I thought “something must be wrong, this is really out of character, to miss two important meetings, to not pick up her phone or answer text messages, something must have happened; I’ll talk to her when I get back to the room.”
When I arrived to my room and she wasn’t there I became nervous, very nervous. Actually I don’t think there is a good enough adjective to explain how that nervousness grew into a gut wrenching fear. I found a note from her on my desk saying that her parents were in Las Vegas and she was “going home for a few,” not knowing when the note was written I had no idea when she left. Not knowing exactly what to do, with time passing and continuingly calling her only to get her voicemail I grew even more anxious. One of my roommates uncles’ was a cop in South Jersey, so she offered to call him to see if any reports had been filed about an accident in that area. He hadn’t heard of anything and suggested we call her house, the local police department by her house and near our school. Not having her home phone number, we Googled her last name and town. Looked in her drawer to try to find her sister’s number and came across their address. Then I continued to call her home phone. When she didn’t pick up there, I thought the absolute worst.
It was now after one in the morning and all these horrible scenarios of her in the car and getting into an accident flooded my mind. I decided to then call Rider security to see if her car was on campus, hospitals, the Alloway state police department, the Deptford local police, the Lawrenceville police department, anything in route between Rider and her house. It wasn’t until I spoke to the police that I became, I’m going to say almost hysterical. I and six of my roommates, and one of their boyfriends were calling anyone and everyone. My main reason for concern was the fact that 1) it was not like her to be late, let alone not show up to something and 2) for her not to pick up the phone or the very least text me and 3) I was the only one she would have really contacted; my roles as director of the show she missed rehearsal for, President of the meeting she missed and clearly, her roommate left me as her number one contact person. If she never contacted me, there really wasn’t anyone else she would have contacted.
The police dispatchers were very helpful, but when they asked me particular questions, it all became too real, too strenuous, and too emotional and that is when I broke. Until I spoke to the police I was the most calm, logical, rational one of the bunch. Until I spoke to the police I was in control. Once the realization of what was occurring and could have potentially happened hit, I damn near lost it.
In Putting Your Emotions To Work, by Sylvia Bushell she describes anxiety, one of the storngest emotions I was feeling at that time. She claimed that being emotionally intelligent is "not only managing anxiety but understanding the message that anxiety gives." She defines anxiety as a reaction which "tells us we are uncertain about what is to come."
In that situation, an extreme circumstance, where emotions were raw and tensions were high I feel there was no “logical” or “appropriate” way to act and clearly no “management” of emotions, no matter how “emotionally intelligent” I may be or how I scored on my EQ test. This does seem to contrast with Bushell's claim that "everyone has the capacity to manage their emotions." In the case of what I consider an emergency, there was no thought process, no "management" only instinctive actions. In my mind there was no “audience” despite the fact that I was surrounded by roommates and eventually police, it was only me, myself, I and utter desperation and fear.
I am relived to say what eventually had happened was I got into contact with her (at two o’clock in the morning) through a mutual friend and she had locked her keys, purse and phone in her trunk while she went home and stopped by this friend’s house on her way back to Rider. Believe it or not, when I found out that she was ok was my absolute breaking point. The flow of emotions, the “lava” I referred to before erupted from every orifice and thus I became, what looked like a basket case. As a side note, I would just like to say that I have no regrets in what I had done because not only did all the girls I live with realize we don’t emergency contact information for each other, but god forbid something did happen, I believe in my heart, I did the right thing; whether or not I was “carried away” by my emotions and passionate personality. And all in despite the fact that I am mocked about what happened still today by others, I really couldn’t care less what anyone thinks. I care about my roommate and her safety and I would do the same and react the same way if anyone I cared for I thought was in danger or harmed.
(I finally figured out how to post a picture so up top is a picture of my roomate Agggg (Andrea) and I.)
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