Open your performance review, or look at the criteria for a partner on social media. The phrase "Emotionally Stable" is enshrined as the highest virtue of adulthood. Society tells you: Do not collapse, do not lose control. Be like a precision thermostat, forever maintained at a cool four degrees Celsius.
This is a collective fraud. So-called "Emotional Stability" is, in essence, a form of spiritual castration.
When you are offended, your adrenaline spikes, and your biological instinct urges you to roar. This is the manifestation of vitality. But the dogma of civilization approaches, handing you a needle and thread. It teaches you to sew your lips corners up, to swallow your anger into your stomach, where it corrodes your lining from the inside out.
Look at that person smiling appropriately in the mirror. Is that you? No, that is a skin suit you have stitched together. You are screaming beneath the skin, but not a sound is heard outside. This is not called stability; this is called "necrosis."
Auralia loves those "emotionally unstable" women. We love her running barefoot in the storm, smashing wine bottles at midnight, laughing until her gums show, and crying until her makeup runs.
Because that is what being alive looks like. Nerves are meant for feeling, not for anesthetizing. If you feel pain, let the whole world hear your scream.
To hell with emotional stability. We would rather you be a vivid madwoman than an elegant corpse. Rip out those sutures. It will bleed, but finally, you will be able to breathe deeply.