Article and Art by Bella Houck
I started writing a list.
A list of Things that trigger The Feeling.
Things that coat my throat in tar and pulse behind my eyelids.
An archive of Things that have thick dust around old fingerprints as they sit untouched for days or weeks or months until I feel the need to bear them into my psyche again to prove I have felt this way before and I can feel this way again.
THINGS THAT TRIGGER The Feeling, a list:
Naps
Deep blue skies
Guilt
Unallotted time
Block Break
Long drives with bad music
The thing about The Things: they have no rhyme or reason. Sometimes, The Things make me feel fine. But more often, they land like a body blow, knocking the wind from me for days.
The day before therapy
Napping until sunset
No distractions
Not responding to texts
Not responding to calls
Not responding to emails
The only way I know how to defeat The Feeling is to starve it from The Things as much as I can. Refuse to engage with them in any way. Respond to the texts. Ban daytime naps. Schedule every hour so there’s no empty space for it to seep through. And no, I don’t care if you’re tired; you cannot nap.
This method works for the most part. I find myself going about my day in ways that feel like a movie character. A fool-proof method for stalling The Feeling is to pretend you’re in an 80s movie where everything is in a grainy filter and everyone’s worries are shrouded by big hair and shoulder pads. This is also known as dissociation. Another sure way to defeat The Feeling.
Dirty room
Social media
Unrequited love
Regret
Greasy hair
I spent the entire summer craving college. Being home makes me feel too big for my body, and so I swell myself up until nothing can pierce my skin. But now summer is passing, and as I walk at night, fall’s familiar scent — her cool breath — wraps me in a promise of hibernation. A homecoming. Eyes closed, I whisper: This is the fall where I will finally deflate.
Being too social
Not being social enough
The smell of an old sweater
Traveling abroad
Missing mom
The Feeling coils itself into a tight ball at the back of my throat. I swear I could press my fingers there and find its roundness bulging against my skin. Sometimes it creeps upward, pulsing behind my eyes. When it’s really bad, it sinks into the pit of my stomach where I can’t reach it, and I must swim through acid to drag it back out.
Limerance
The color blue
Dying plants
Solitude
Nina Simone
The Feeling will linger depending on circumstance. February-April, my freshman year is covered entirely in a haze of blue, snow, and a perpetual state of sadness. Sophomore year, I tried so hard to stave it off. I would only allow it to seep in when it was raining outside. There’s a strange fondness I have for The Feeling. A sense of clouding and dread mixed with a craving for its familiarity, proof that somehow I am still capable of feeling deeply.
Freshman year walks
Old photos
Empty campus
Embarrassment
Comparison
Rejection
There’s a conflation between love and The Feeling that I have yet to understand. The echo of loving someone; the screeching feedback of not knowing if they love you back. The Feeling crash-lands into my ribs whenever I get a new crush. Ex-boyfriends, ex-situationships, ex-eye exchanges: they haunt The Feeling like ephemeral ghosts I can never quite touch. The weight of love crushes my heart, and I turn purple and pink in a bruise of longing. The more I sit with The Feeling, the more and more she looks like my desire to be loved.
Crying
Lying in bed
Libraries
Traffic
Grandpa’s house
Old pets
The passing of time
Virginia, The Feeling hovers above me that night we sat on the cold park bench covered in drops of sprinkler water. Thank you for listening. I’m sorry for letting it go on so long without answers. The Feeling convinces me that explanations aren’t wanted, that no one would care enough to have them. Thank you for caring.
Love,
Bella