If something emotionally intense is going on, I try to avoiding thinking or feeling anything about it. Inside there's this buzzy sort of anxiety. Mentally, it's like steering a boat through shark-infested waters. Those emotions and thoughts are waiting to chomp me to bits if I slip into the water. I can't think about what's troubling me because that's touching the water. After I've calmed down (maybe hours to a week later), I can sit and dissect it. At that point, it's like I'm running on parallel tracks—one track is for considering what's going on and how I got there, the other is for feeling a weakened version of the emotion. That helps me get over it or at least accept the situation.
I'd liken it to a physical injury. First, here's a flash of alarm and pain. I know what happened and where it happened, but I'm too surprised and hurt to go beyond that. As I get used to it or as it dulls, I can figure out exactly what hurts and how to live with it.
I like emotions and consider myself a very emotional person. I just don't like being overwhelmed by them or whatever is causing them.
Oh, wow. I relate to this. I've gotten so used to stepping away from or smothering strong emotions as they're happening that I'm not sure how to accept them in the moment. I guess it's fine. It means even good news seems less wonderful, though, which is kind of disappointing.