Bawling in the Garage
Last Monday I had a meltdown. I’m talking sitting in my car, in the garage bawling my eyes out, couldn’t think, got dressed to go to work and didn’t go type of meltdown. I had already decided that I needed to start going through therapy again to work out some issues, but I knew last Monday that I HAD to go see her.
When I finally landed on her couch, every thought, concern, anxiety, and worry that had been consuming me for the last 18 months came spilling out like a bathtub overflowing. Between sudden deaths, hurricanes, ear tubes, a sudden job change, and a whole bunch of other stuff, I was heartbroken, confused, angry, and a whole slew of other things I won’t type. But I kept telling myself that I could handle it like others do – pray, create checklists, and keep living.
But I’m not like others. I know that people say that you aren’t your mental illness, but my therapist made a good point. To some degree, it is who I am. It determines the way I function in the world. It’s why, although it’s very painful to admit, that I am not every woman, it’s not all in me. It’s why I have to get a consistent and lengthy amount of sleep – because when I’m sleep deprived I simply cannot handle the world. And as someone who prides herself on being a responsible and functioning adult, it can be, at times, hard to admit that some days, I just want to stay in bed, not shower, and skip all my meals, and that I have done that.
By Wednesday, I was somewhat better. I processed some of my feelings, came up with a plan, and got some sleep. But I realized that my need to see into the future, know the answer to everything, desire to have the answers to my prayers, ASAP, hadn’t gone away. And that I really just needed to take it one day at a time.
Here’s the thing, we as a people put a lot of energy into appearing to have it together. That’s cool. But somebody around you is falling apart. Let’s learn to stop hashtagging our way to excellence and instead, love people and save souls.
Until next time…
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