At some point in my early development as a human, I deemed it prudent to hide away my emotional self. I carefully wrapped it up in brown packing paper, taped it up, put it in a box, taped the box shut with packing tape, then taped it again with duct tape (just in case), wrapped it in some newspaper (and more tape) and hid it away behind my pancreas.
Some dust that was touching my emotional self may have filtered out over the years but ultimately, it’s stayed packed tightly away. I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t hidden away and I’m not even sure it’s still alive.
Maybe it’s outdated, like a VHS and it won’t even be compatible with the current version of myself. So, what’s the point of going to all the trouble to unpack a box full of VHS tapes when you don’t have a player for them?
Maybe I need to unpack a bit more because I’m trying to make a new movie and keep tripping over all these boxes in my studio. Or maybe that old footage would be really helpful to look at while I plan the sequel….
Or maybe I should stop this stupid analogy and realize that a smart person on this podcast was right when he said, “I think we just don’t want to face the realization that the pain is as huge as it is and that we were as vulnerable as we were.” Bam.