Feelings suck. Mostly they suck because 90% of the time, they are wrong.
For example: when I am a substitute teacher for one day, I FEEL like I should be awarded a Medal Of Honor for performance above and beyond the call of duty in just keeping my students alive and mostly contained inside my classroom. This feeling is wrong because the real teachers who survive every single day of their whole lives with the same exact students never get any medals. Or awards. Or even Christmas Presents from certain terrible single parents who shall remain forever nameless. Teacher gifts are right on the same level for me that out-of-town sports events are. Yes I should. But I haven't started now, I can't afford to do it, and really if I tried to begin at last, it would merely draw attention to the fact that I never have before. So to all of the teachers of all of my children, past and present, which at current count should be in the area of 64 total teachers, give or take a few, I am sorry. You deserve presents. And medals and trophies and heralded recognition and celebrations of your heroism. You do. And I, like my feelings, suck.
Another good example of Wrong Feelings is the phenomena of having a multitude of people in my house and feeling lonely. Clearly, I am surrounded by human beings. Some of which I am even supposed to like, i.e. my children, and even so, and quite wrongly, I feel very much alone. Maybe that has to do with the fact that under the age of 29 and a half, which is all of the other people in my house, there is little to no recognition of the fact that towels that have been used and left on the floor upstairs to mold cannot, actually, get up and wash themselves. This is really a superficial part of the problem, since the main thing they lack is a strong, warm shoulder for me to lay my head on and cry. Or just rest. Whatever that feels like. But feelings are wrong anyway.
I am also fairly certain right now that this FEELING inside my chest like my heart is torn into a million jagged pieces is inaccurate, and other than some stress-induced, high-blood pressure related headaches, my heart is probably for the most part still physically whole. But the tearing, burning, throbbing ache in my chest says otherwise. But feelings lie. They are wrong. And just because I feel absolutely compelled to weep uncontrollably when I hear Ed Sheeran Sing Thinking Out Loud, doesn't mean that it's really true that I will never be loved that way. Right? And really, feelings just equal drama. And we all know how popular drama is. Keep it to yourself. All of the passion. All of the hurt. All of the love that isn't. Don't feel. And certainly don't tell anyone that you feel. Because feelings are wrong.
I'd like to think that the good feelings are a little more right - but who's to say. I have found all too often that the good feelings spring from wrong actions, so probably feelings, in their entirety, are just terrible, and should be avoided at all cost.
I am currently in the market for a substance of any kind that makes feelings go away. I have tried various forms of alcohol, only to discover that they are actually Wrong Feeling enhancers. I have been on some different antidepressants, and while I felt less things, there was still a lot of wrongness going on in my head and my heart. My momentary solution is business. Not like, two-piece-twill-suits-and-a-briefcase type business, but move-go-do type business. Just keep doing things. Cooking. Cleaning, Working, and when all of that just overwhelms me like a tidal wave, I try yelling (at my unfortunate children) louder than the wails of my (not) broken heart. That, as it turns out, is just obnoxious, so then I go to bed. I try to find something more confusing than my own life to watch on TV, and after trying to muddle my way through part of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I find myself feeling like my life is that scary without acid. But that is a feeling, and feelings are wrong.