Do you ever wish that you could fit in? In a world where there are virtually no open spaces for wild cards, do you ever find yourself dreaming of the slot where you belong?
Ā Man, I know I do. In fact, Iām probably the weirdest person youāve ever met. If there was ever a place for me that made sense to belong, it would probably be an insane asylum. And no, thatās not a joke.
Hi, my name is Johanna Blake and I can feel your emotions.
Yeah, imagine that as your answer when your professors made you do those terrible ice breakersā¦damn that lecture hall.
Think of it this way, I read your facial expressions, body language, the sound in your voice, the tempo of your breath, even down to the slightest change in your scentā¦and BOOM! My body recreates the emotions youāre feeling and basically I turn into you for a moment. Crazy, right?
You see, everyone has their āpersonal stainā as I like to call it, or essentially the mark that follows you throughout the entirety of your existence.
Now, itās not always necessarily a bad thing, more so the thing that makes you, you. But unfortunately, the majority of the time, peopleās stains are determined by a tragic life event or trauma that they experienced during the major development years. This āstainā so-to-speak, is like the embellishment that you wear for the rest of your life.
Maybe thatās a bad example. Okay, think of it more or less like the name tag sticker that you wear at your first day on the job, except instead of your name, it reads something like āSelf-consciousā, or āhardened heartā.
Now, those are very vague answers, but for the sake and sanity of your brain as well as personal space, weāll leave it at that, because to be honest my friend, I basically know everything about you, and essentially did the moment I met you.
Ā Now imagine this, youāre first day of class and you walk in. Youāve meditated, prayed and hoped that the empathic abilities would shut off. You do your best to prepare yourself for the anxiety attack that is sure to come, as every student in the room is surely nervous to some degree.
Then you get this weird, confused, shaky yet confident feeling. As one student in the room is blazed out of his mind and really hasnāt a sentiment of a clue whatās truly going on except that the bubbly, blonde prof is ātripping him out, broā.Ā
So instead of learning, youāre trying to manage emotions, getting lost in your own brain trying to shut them out. Often times, your grades slip because youāre not actually learning, rather managing, and other timesā¦ you overstep in situations where you shouldnāt, verbalizing peopleās innermost-issues that really, you have no business knowing.
And then of-course comes the guilt, as you start to realize that you are getting to know your classmates very personally, which doesnāt exactly make you feel like the best person in the world.
And the worst part of all? After the initial worries of the first day subside, you start to feel everyoneās strongest emotionā¦and their personal stains rise to the surface.
For instance, in Lecture hall 2059 of building C, the room Iām in currently, Sarah Lockhardt is hardly containing her, well, āinterestā in Scott Wilson. As you might not notice, her mouth is slightly twitching from the smile sheās trying to contain, her toes are wildly drumming against the souls of her shoes, sheās gripping her pencil just a little too hardā¦so many indications and so many freaking emotions.
Now, the part you probably donāt feel is her fuzzy brain, the way the lights seem to dim and brighten again as the chemicals release from her body all too intensely. Or the way her legs feel like theyāve been injected with icy-hot, and her mouth becomes inherently dry.
Sarah is experiencing what most of us know commonly as a crush. Scott Wilson on the other hand, although not completely oblivious to her excitement, is completely calm and confidentā¦a relief for me.
As my body starts to calm down after Sarahās roller-coaster of emotions, I start to focus in on Scottās.
Less nervous and more ābig man on the townā, Scott chews on his pen as he tries his best to focus on our Prof, his mind elsewhere. And as he does this, his brain involuntarily stresses for a split second, knowing that each moment he tunes out, heās missing crucial information.
This one, as not expected, hits me hard but swiftly, as my face begins to sweat for a single moment. Although this is not my favorite emotion, itās one Iām used to as many people nowadays have trouble focusing.
I shake my own head and try to tune him out as he returns to his serenity.
Man, do I wish it was that easy for me.
I turn my head back towards our Prof and try to focus in on her again. Sometimes, it helps a little bit if I close my eyes, but even still, my ears work perfectly well, and I can hear the slight waiver in her voice beyond the bubble. Sheās nervous even in her confidence.
I do my best to ignore her very prominent stain and open my eyes, moving my focus to the paper in front of me.
Ā Please circle the correct answer.
Between 30 and 36 AD, the Romans crucified Jesus Christ. T or F?
Ā I try my best to focus on the question, but I canāt because someone in the room was just hit with a wave of dread.
Immediately, my head shoots up to look around and see who it is. Then I spot her, Julia Mendel, the sweet red head who tutored me in Psych 1250 last year.
Sheās staring down at something in her bag and looking at her hand which is covered in a slimy substance. From where Iām sitting, I canāt see what it is, but trust me when I tell you, itās bad.
Julia was never one for disgusting issues and was probably the cleanest person Iād ever met. Iām assuming she found something rotten in her bagā¦which was now covering her hand and filling the lecture hall with a distinct, sour stench.
A glaze forms over her eyes and her breath begins to quicken. A thin band of sweat forms across her forehead and heat fills her brain. And as she searches for a solution to this problem, her stomach begins to churn, turning ripples into waves. And then it hits me.
Sheās going to throw up.
And it happens all too soon, because in the next moment, thereās purple, halfway digested yogurt on the floor. More waves of shock hit me as the students around her jump up and out of their seats in disgust.
Her immediate panic and embarrassment become my own, and instantaneously I must evacuate the room, as this lecture hall is about to turn into a tornado that I wonāt be able to escape.
Catapulting out of my seat, I leave my bag behind and bolt for the bathroom.
As all the lasting emotions run through my body, the lights of the bathroom dim and fade, only to brighten to their maximum intensity. It feels as if Iām walking through a thick fog, the sticky heat from the pipes in the stall making my brain feel tingly, and my body feel prickly.
Thank God Iām the only one in here or I might pass out, but I must hurry as Iām sure Julia will be here soon as well.
I walk towards the sinks and turn on the faucet, running my hands and specifically my wrists under the cold water.
Closing my eyes, I count to ten, focusing all my energy on releasing all thoughts and feelings into the stream of water and honing in on the numbers.
I imagine each one in my brain as I count. The color, the texture, the shape, and as weird as it sounds, what they might smell and taste likeā¦and soon enough, Iām back to normal again.
I open my eyes and look at myself in the now, foggy mirror.
Residual sweat seems to dot itself upon my forehead and chin, like raindrops on a windshield.
It is now, and only now that I can focus on my own emotions.
I am calm, and for the most part, collected. I have a slight nervousness about returning to the room, but for the most part, I know itās in my head and no one really cares where I went or why I left.
My green eyes stare back at me from the mirror, and Iām not phased by the red crisscrosses that run around the whites. If this were an uncommon occurrence, I might be concerned, but the stress in and of itself of feeling everyone around you causes such reactions, and therefore is to be expected.
Focusing with all my ability and closing my eyes once more, I try to create a sense of strength in myself.
āI am strong. I am not anyone but myself. I do not need to know anyone but myself. I am strong. You are strong, Johanna.ā
As I open my eyes, I see the strength return, and the once dull moss has turned to a vibrant emerald.
I take one last deep breath, and walk out the door, just as Julia opens the door to come in. Once again, it is time to immerse myself in the Ocean that is emotion.
Now tell me once more, do you still feel weird?
