“Don’t Bottle Up Your Emotions, Otherwise, They Will Blow Out For You!”

A Young Author's Notebook
7 min readJun 21, 2024

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In my experinece with the dead, you usually don’t know who is gonna show up. Sometimes, people from my “past” tend to recycle themselves and show up once more.

With Dorothy Gish (1898–1968), she seemed to make her appearance at just the right time.

Dorothy Gish, for those of you who don’t know, is YES, related to Lillian Gish. Yes, that Lillian Gish (1893–1993).

However, unlike that Lillian Gish, Dorothy Gish- IS NOT PROBLEMATIC, but she takes the fall for her sister, Lillian.

Dorothy or “Dot” or “Dottie” — is part of a novel that I began writing in 2012 in Film school- once called “The Harron Report”- but has been renamed “In Time.”

I hope to complete that one, as so many people I have told about the new plot, they really love it!

As I slept last night, I was met by Miss Gish at a park, that overlooked a bay or a river of some sort. (New Yorkers, DO YOUR THING!)

There was a park bench. Dorothy looked just like the photo I have here. She was a little older, but she was cute as ever. She had on, just as you see in the photo.

She did however, have on an overcoat that was a light brown. She saw me standing there, and she waved me over.

“Come, come! I won’t bite!” She said. I walked over to her. Now, when I meet these people, I don’t usually wear what I am wearing to bed. It’s funny, they get to pick what I wear.

This time, I wore a slight blue dress, and white flats.

I walked over to her and I sat down on the bench.

She looked out at the water.

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” She said.

I nodded. I took a breath and didn’t look at her right away.

“You know, I know you’re so frustrated at things and to be honest, I don’t blame you! I wish that more people communicated, but you know, we live in such a world that silence is more prominent than speech,” She said.

Now, let me give you a little insight to dead folks and when they visit. If they wanna help you, they already know what’s going with you. Whether you’re on drugs (I’m not!), or you’re dealing with trauma ( I am!) or you’re dealing with a lot in your life- don’t worry, THEY KNOW.

As an autistic woman, one thing I CANNOT STAND — is when people DO NOT COMMUNICATE WITH ME- either at all, or… the fact that they tell me that something is wrong with me- WHEN THEY ARE BORED OF ME, OR CAN’T “HANDLE ME”.

That has been a problem for me for a long time.

Dorothy Gish, I guess she could sense my frustration.

Let me give you some backstory on some of the “frustration” I’ve been suffering with .

In 2023, I sent some lovely packages to some of my favorite people (mainly fanmail) and was luckily enough to have two (really three) replies in a few months! Yay! I thought! Then Decemeber of 2023 hit and one of the holiday packages I sent, come back and … my fucking god, I was so upset. No communication of anything.. no.. “Hey we didn’t get it!” Nothing…

I felt so sick and I was so upset, because I don’t think people know HOW MUCH TIME, EFFORT AND MONEY I put into those packages to make someone’s day better or special! Fast forward to Jan.of 2024, I sent my birthday packages, and HAVE HEARD ABSOLUETLY NOTHING from ANYONE. I have tried reaching out and asking if it has made it , AND AGAIN.. NOTHING..

I don’t kow why this bother’s me so much. Again, the autism- of the “If you get something, you be polite and you say ‘thank you’- that’s how I was always taught.”

But, sadly, sometimes dealing with “agencies” or even “people” can be such a trivial thing!

So.. back to Dorothy.

Well, I understand you want to say something, you do so much and yet, you feel so ignored, and yet, you’re words are trying to scream. You’re afraid you’ll be backlashed.”

I nodded.

“Well, I know that your heart is so big and I know you just want to make people feel special,” She said.

I didn’t say anything.

She sighed and then she looked out to the river.

“I know that you’re upset and you would like to be acknowledged for your good intention, but sadly, not eveyone has your intentions, or .. I might add, your manners,” She said.

I looked at her, and she reached her hand towards mine.

“Look, your generation, you can’t even communicate with each other, let alone even with you!”

I knew what she was referring to.

“Your generation can barely talk to each other, let alone speak to each other, face to face. You have to ‘text’ or ‘email’- why can’t you all just meet up for lunch or spend time together face to face? I know you really want my opinion, I know you want those people to see what lovely things you sent. and how special you made them feel. That being said, when do you think people are going to make you feel special? You think no one cares about you?- Well, you look around.. do you see anyone who doesn’t?” She asked.

“Actually, there are a ton of people, people who think they care about me, and they..don’t,” I said.

She nodded and then looked out to the river.

“Well, you’ll see things that way, but in a way, there are people who do care. One thing I’ve noticed about you, is that you tend to keep your emotions bottled up. Don’t bottle up your emotions, otherwise, they will blow out for you!” She said.

I looked at her with my “pouty” face.

“Well, I know things bother you, and rather than saying anything, you keep it bottled up, due to past experiences,” She said.

“Ok, let’s think of this, can you ever say that somebody fucked you over? Or that you wanted to tell someone how you felt and when you did, you become the monster?”

She thought about it and said,

“Why yes, actually, I have,” She said.

“Well, I think it’s a lot easier for you, right? You could say something and not be backlashed for it,” I said. She took a deep breath.

“You think that because I am not autistic?” She replied.

“What if they secretly hate me?” I whispered.

“What if they think of you before bed? Did you ever think of that? What if they see a film, and it makes them immediately, have you on their mind?

What if they really do care about you? Do you think that some of your friends stay up late and worry about you? Think about it!” She said.

“Do you think they really do?”

She looked at me.

“Well, let’s think, do you think that if you told people how they made you feel, they’d hate you?” She asked.

“YES! It’s happened so many times! Then I am alone.”

“Well, I can see why you think that. Your heart is taped, and it’s under pressure, cause you’ll die with the things you’ve never been able to say, but if you write them down, and then maybe, you might have the courage to do so,” She said.

“I wish I could say things like everyone else,” I said.

“Why? So you can turn out to be an asshole like them? Or.. do you wanna be the girl that people remember, that has a BIG HEART and SPEAKS SOFTLY TO THEM?” She replied.

I took a deep breath, because I knew she was right.

“Ah, I figured that wouldn’t be a hard choice. Look, the words we want to say, in that moment, are going to last forever, you know this better than anyone,” She replied.

She had a good point. We get angry and we say things we don’t mean, and then, those words will last forever.

“Those emotions that we feel in that moment- could destroy someone, and you know that better than ANYONE I KNOW, LIVING OR DEAD!” She said.

That is true. One set of words, could hurt another person more than we already know how to hurt ourselves.

“I know you wish you could turn back time and fix everything and say all that you’re meant to say, or want to say, but believe me- some things are better left unsaid,” She said.

She got up from the bench.

“Look, I know you wish you could erase the bad things you’ve done, by saying something, and how you wished you could have handled it better, but I promise you, don’t hold in those emotions or you will explode and it’ll end even worse than you had ever imagined. So, my gift to you, is that advice!”

She walks away and I see her slowly fade away.

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A Young Author's Notebook
A Young Author's Notebook

Written by A Young Author's Notebook

Kate. Autistic. I am a Jewish woman who doesn't have a clue of what's she's doing, so bear with me.

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