Section 1.1: Unseen Emotional Barriers

Daily, I grapple with accessing the depth of emotion I’ve felt today. My job demands I set aside my feelings for ten hours each day to support others. Even when I attempt to confront my pain, it often eludes me.

I recognize the importance of allowing myself to feel, especially for healing, but I usually only manage to shed a few tears before the source of my pain becomes distant once again. The shift in my environment has now forced me to confront emotions I’ve been trying to sidestep.

Returning home brings back memories of who I was last time I was here and the hopes I had of sharing my childhood with my ex. My childhood was marked by a desire for connection, and I’ve always yearned to show someone my roots. Perhaps it’s a way of validating my struggles as a young boy who felt trapped.

“Look, see, I did it!” I want to shout, yet that innocent hope clashes painfully with the reality of my current single status.

The act of buying a gift for my mum also requires me to tap into a well of care that I’ve kept locked away since my relationship ended. It’s fascinating how these feelings lie dormant, manifesting as we navigate our daily lives, seemingly unscathed but actually wounded.

Only when triggered do we realize the extent of our pain. If we’re never triggered, what happens? We risk building walls so high—due to past conditioning, external pressures, or a simple desire to avoid pain—that we may never access those emotions again.

This suppression can lead to depression, anxiety, or even physical ailments, as various studies have pointed out.

Section 1.2: Confronting the Pain

Let me clarify, I don’t relish feeling this way, even though I emphasize its necessity here. The emotional turmoil is intense; thinking about my ex can be so painful that I would rather not feel anything for anyone at all.

I’d prefer to keep my walls intact and shut out love entirely. But I also detest feeling apathetic or depressed. Apathy can arise as a defense mechanism against trauma, where expressing pain feels impossible. Rather than confront it, my body adapts by shutting down emotions—a freeze response to ongoing stress.

Yet, to feel is to heal. Despite the pain that triggers bring, there’s a silver lining. I share this as a reminder to venture into painful spaces with care and support when necessary.

Yes, we can avoid our pain, but if it exists in the realms of our capacity to love, we risk shutting off a vital part of ourselves.

There is an inherent risk of pain in love, and I often question whether the pursuit of love is worth the suffering it can entail. However, I realize that such a perspective is not conducive to growth, leaving me cold and emotionless.

While it may be necessary to keep our walls up temporarily as we heal, we must also confront our pain to avoid stalling our healing process entirely.

Thank you for taking the time to read this piece; I hope it resonates with you.

As we reflect on the emotional walls we build after love ends, Anaïs Mitchell's performance of "Why We Build the Wall" offers a poignant exploration of the barriers we create in relationships.

Additionally, the video "How To Let Down the Walls Around Your Heart Letting Love In" provides valuable insights on the importance of vulnerability in our healing journey.