There’s another emotion I’d like to describe, but don’t know a name for. At the time I am writing this down, I haven’t found the right word yet, so I’m going to try to squeeze it out by writing this text. Surround it. Catch it. Become it. Look at it from a distance. As if some part of my mind yet has to travel to that point, a light perhaps, where it has crystallized.

It’s a high tension emotion which, in my case, only arises from the interaction with another human. An interaction with high charge. The emotion comes afterwards, when, in an upcomming surge, the conversation starts playing back inside my head. When it rises in between me and my thoughts, hijacks them and blinds me from what’s happening around.

There are three clear moments when this can happen in my case: after an argument or a fight, when I have a crush on someone, and as occurred recently, when I have a job interview. There’s always a question involved. A fight can leave me puzzled about the question ‘who is right?’. The anger fuels this, and causes me not to think clearly. In the turbulence, I construct a frame of thoughts that makes me right, and makes me feel better about myself. Then I start wondering how I can relate back to the other person. Solve it. All that time, I’m dominated by this same emotion.  Having a crush is similar, but the life-dependent question there is: “does she like me back?”. Whatever that may mean. Very important, obviously, so there come the thoughts that interpret the conversation during the recent date in my favour, and there goes the focus on anything else. Job interviews, might objectively have an impact on my life, but they trigger the same mechanism. Did I say this right? Was I spontaneous enough? Should I have added more information here? Was I too quick? To jovial? Still didn’t hear if they hired me, by the way, but the emotion has faded by now.

What I want to describe, find a word for, is the gooey structure of this emotion, which I notice if I want to break it. For example, when I want to get to work. It’s so viscous, that when I arrive at a point where I can concentrate, it undermines that, lurking me back into its useless rambling. And particularly when I fight it, it can cause electric bursts of panic in my heart or shoulder, or right under my belly button. But surrendering to it doesn’t release its grip either: it fuels it. Regardless of how I relate to it, it passes with time. As a falling tide.

It’s a bit like being submerged by a flood of mental syrup, really. My functional mind moves slowly and with a lot for force, working itself into being stuck in a new position. There seems to be a lot going on, but in fact I’m stuck in a sticky cloud of anxieties. Think I’ll call it subsyrupism. As in, “I’m feeling very subsyruped” today. Or: “she can’t hear you, she’s subsyruped.”  Yes, that works. Good. Subsyruped it is.


4 thoughts on “Subsyruped”

  1. Hm… I think that the name doen’t matter at all. What matter is the strange feeling you tried to describe. As you broke the whole feeling into its particles( where it appears, when you feel it, in connection with what kind of situation it appears, where in your body it is located ect), and now even dedicating the article to it, it should lose the impact in the future. I saw it as a combination of personal uncertainty and vanity, with slight touch of polarity feeling(tendency to be perfect and not liking this personal tendency). But, most importantly, you see it as a kind of shadow (in fact it is), meaning that it needs to be confronted. Only when we meet our shadows they transform into the accepted part of a character. And you did it with this article analysis.

    1. Ha! Yes, in the end we’re all self-therapists seeking to keep our inner life flowing, aren’t we?

      I now remember the PEAT session we had back in Istria, where I was hovering above something and describing it, whereas you were trying to steer towards a state where I would let it come through my body and, perhaps, laugh or cry. Maybe I interpreted it wrong. I remember the sentence ‘I love and accept myself’. It was an interesting experience which definitely contributed to something. I do believe that both acts, the writing and the session, have their role.So yes, I agree that for the essence of self-healing, the word itself may not be of highest importance.

      But I disagree when you say that the name doesn’t matter, for several reasons.

      First, and least important, the act of giving names to emotions is my personal protest against the fact that there are too little names for emotions. In giving them (new) names, I am setting an example for something that I think is not taught enough: taking a distance from your emotions, by closely observing them. Using single names, and building a repertoir of such names, does ultimately help in that quest, allthough I can not prove any impact so far : ). A partially ego-driven, imperialist motive, I admit, but not unimportant to acknowledge.

      Second, related, even if the words themselves may not make it into history, they have a symbolic value to myself and perhaps others. They do not stand alone, but neither do the texts. To me, the words also serve to communicate a different outlook on emotions, one where they are more substantial, where they have a denser form than the way they are usually communicated. Emotions as tangible ‘ghosts’ or ‘shapes’ inside our (sub)conscious spirits. The words I used al refer to a single shape and or movement, which is essential to the thing I want to express here.

      In that sense, the single, admitted sometimes slightly artificial words, represent an intent to connect the dots that are identified in the text, if that makes sense. See them in a more holistic way, perhaps.

      Words like vanity do not work for me in this case, because they are in a way more coloured and are quite ‘mind-guided’. They do represent a certain content of my inner chit chat, but not its shape. Nor the impact of the emotion on my current experience.

      Many times in this (so far short) series, I have started from the word, but in this case the word still had to be carved out. I have tried several, but chose this one. It may not be the strongest one so far (I feel it’s missing the ‘clusterbomb sensation’), but I do still think that the fact that there’s a single word intended to keep the story together is important in the way I perceive the phenomenon.

      All in all I am starting to interpret this series as an attempt to connect emotions to the basic elements such as earth, wind, fire and water. It may not always yield the most poignant results, but the intention is there. And I’ll be back if there are new relevant emotions to discuss. I’m still struggling with a feebler, mistier one.

      Anyhow, nice to talk to you!

      : )

      1. Very well put, Gilles. Now I understand and accept your explanation about the name. 🙂
        Besides, it is a nice way to approach emotions, In 2000 I published a book of poetry with quite a similar approach. Its name was Ajna. So, as you said about names,With the title of the book I triied to suggest what was my intention with those poems. Á Kind of Taurus Thing. 🙂
        This is a good writing, Gilles.

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