Letter from Pearl Mathias

Hi friend,

As I write this letter, I find myself sitting on the floor accompanied by a pile of emotions. If this had happened to me a few years back, I would stand up, box up all my feelings and wrap it tight. For most of my life, I thought that feeling too many things meant there was something wrong with me. I worried about how I would appear to my friends- What would they think of me?

A little over a year ago, I found myself in a relationship that wasn’t bringing out the best in me or in my partner. The relationship was riddled with disrespectful language, insecurity over the past, immature behaviour, belittling my belief in God, and seeking control. I was so caught up in fixing things and making sure everything was alright that I didn’t realize when I stopped noticing these red flags, that I wasn’t really alright.

Eventually the unhealthy behaviour patterns got the better of the both of us and we decided to put an end to the relationship. This decision left me confused because I thought I had done everything I possibly could to make sure the relationship would survive. I was left not only with questions and frustrations, but also with extremely low self-worth.

Throughout this ordeal, I couldn’t risk anyone knowing that something was going on with me. I was the one who helped everyone else feel better, always knew the right thing to say or do, and somehow managed to bring a smile to their face in the thick of it all. I couldn’t be the one falling apart. I needed to keep it together even if it meant I was breaking inside. I put on my best smile when I met my friends, all our conversations revolved around how happy I was, how adorable our pictures were, never suggesting that something wasn’t quite right.

Over the years, I became so good at perceiving other people’s emotions and grew so distant from receiving my own. Putting on a happy face came more easily to me. Additionally, my understanding at the time of the good-natured-Catholic way of going about these trying situations meant being content in all circumstances. Even when I was suffering, my prayers were pretty peachy. Not a hint of the anxiety or pain was brought forth in my prayer time. After all, God saw everything and He knew what was happening, right? I didn’t need to be a sob and repeat the episode all over for Him. I’d rather continue pleasing Him with my perfect string of prayers. It didn’t even occur to me back then that I could really honestly talk to Him about my feelings. A quick, prayerful intercession was all I lodged in between my daily prayer and those were the only ten seconds of my pain I allowed God into.

While I extended grace for people to be themselves, to be vulnerable and honest, it dawned on me that I wasn’t allowing myself the same grace. Loving others came so much more easily to me than loving myself or letting myself be loved. I always needed to be the one to show up and hold someone when they were falling. But when I was falling, I’d rather fall with no one watching.

One evening, while I was at church, the priest spoke about how we are not meant to go through life alone. We are born to be in communion with God – and not just with God, but with others as well. I sat back after the mass ended and I wanted to understand what the word ‘communion’ was stirring in my heart. I pulled out my phone, typed in the word and what showed up blew my mind. Communion means ‘the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a mental or spiritual level’.

This revelation led me to understand that while I open my heart and mind to receive Christ wholly, He also opens Himself up to receive me wholly. When He meets me in communion, He doesn’t hide his wounds and scars from me. He doesn’t mask His pain; instead, He reveals it to me to remind me that this pain is meant to be felt, and that I am meant to be seen and held through it.

It also helped me realize that the people I held close to my heart were in communion with me, perhaps without even realizing it. And, communion means exchanging our intimate thoughts and feelings, which was just the exhortation my heart needed to let itself be seen wholly.

Years later, I find myself sitting on the floor because when you’re someone who feels so much all at once, it comes crashing down on you and the weight of it all lands you right on the floor. But, there’s nothing uncomfortable about this floor. It has become my safe space, to feel and to heal. I’m learning to sit here amidst the pile of my emotions. I’m learning how to look at them, one by one, to take them in, allow them to work themselves through and then let it out.

I’m learning that feeling feelings aren’t a bad thing. But what’s wrong is not allowing other people into the space where I’m feeling so much; to allow them to see what’s really going on with me, when I’m not at my best; to let down my tired arms and let them hold me this time. I’m learning that putting up a façade so that I don’t bother anyone or interrupt their life with my sad story is no way to build solid friendships. Relying on myself to always make it better, that’s where I’m mistaken. Because people who truly care about me are always willing to put aside things, just as I would, and rush to be beside me. They’d even sit on the floor with me for as long as I needed.

As I began to bring my closest people into my pain, I was surprised at how I didn’t have to worry about telling them what I was going through and how they would perceive it. They sat with me, they listened, they cried with me, they made me laugh through the tears, they held me and reminded me how loved I was. Once I realized that it’s so much easier being true to my feelings with people I could trust, experiencing life has been easier. However, there are still times when I struggle with guilt and shame, or my need to not-make-a-big-deal-out-of-things prevents me from being my authentic self. When I’m asked how I’m feeling, I try to tell it like it is as much as I can –- joyful, messy, in-between, loved, unworthy, in-need-of-reminders.

And, I began to bring this honesty into my prayer time as well. My true-to-my-feelings vocabulary seeped into my daily prayer. I very quickly realized that God was waiting on that floor for me even before I got there. He was waiting for me to just sit with Him, to feel His presence in that overwhelming moment. He didn’t need my perfect prayers, He needed me to bring my imperfection to Him. He wanted to see all the places where I’d been hurting. He wanted to hold me. He wanted me to feel loved in the midst of my mess. He wanted all of it. He showed me that I didn’t need to push my feelings aside like there was something wrong with them. He wanted me to hold them all up to Him so that He could speak His truth right through them.

Today, I’m learning that life isn’t meant to be done alone. It’s a grace to be able to show up for people, but it’s an even bigger grace to allow people to show up for you. I’m learning that feelings are just that – feelings. There’s nothing to be terrified of or ashamed about when admitting that I’m feeling them. I’m learning that putting on a happy face when I’m breaking inside may be brave in certain situations, but most often, it means I’m lying to myself. And I’m learning that God isn’t repulsed by the messiness of my tangled emotions. He doesn’t want me to always show up smiling. He loves me just the way I am, with all that I’m feeling, on the floor or off it, talking to Him about what’s really going on in here.

Love,

Pearl

Photo of Pearl

About the Writer: Pearl Mathias is an early childhood educator living in the city of Mumbai, in India. You’ll often find her with a cup of tea and nose buried in a book or an article. She loves to immerse herself in the people that God has placed in her path. She is deeply fascinated by humans, she likes to learn about them and learn from them. The hues on flowers and the shades of the sky at sunset are her instant mood enhancers.