I was so impressed that you decided to go to a counselor, friend. To realize that you are “the happy medium” in emotions, but that you have placed guards against too much of either the highs or the lows is tricky.
It took courage to go see a counselor or therapist and find why you guard against too much emotion. I have yearned for you to see, feel, immerse yourself in some experiences for years.
I never told you that when I was eleven or so, I would crank dad’s media system down in the library to blast the 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky. I would close my eyes and slip into the sound stream to direct the orchestra — and be overcome. I might barely be able to concentrate on the different pieces’ entrance in the restatement as tears welled up from deep inside.
I held to times from camps when God seemed to infuse the moments and something in the music or sermon or a quiet time with sealed orders up on a cliff overlooking the lake would sweep me away.
When Anna Cavalier died after our first date at 16, within an hour of having seen her, that pain swallowed me. But that pain taught me a lesson I have used with grieving people all of my life. I tell them how rich they are to have loved so deeply that they feel torn, bereft, shattered at the absence of the deceased. I have spent that pain at her loss over a hundred times into others’ tears and bereavement, and there again, the courage to walk into another’s deep emotion draws on skills to keep the leather over your heart, but once in a great while, I have had no finer gift to another brother or sister than to share tears. I find wisdom and eloquence cheaper, but wading and sharing the grief has a more profound impact for Christ or their sanity or whatever is important at the moment.
So let the God who stirred David to write the Psalms that grip us, Isaiah who wrote the stunning grief at what was coming and unshakable hope of what would follow restore the emotions, restore their ability to teach you life, and life more abundantly to you, my dearest friend.