I cried twice this month in the course of 9 days. prior to those episodes, it had been months since I shed a tear. Not if you’re counting things like emotional animal rescue video clips I ignorantly click on my Facebook newsfeed. And no, my breakdowns were not because I was pmsing and they didn’t have any chocolate I liked at a nearby convenient store or some shit. It’s a multitude of things, but when I break it down, it becomes more clear.
You see, I’ve been high on life for so long. Living it up, staying up late, eating shitty but delicious food, and drinking. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” has been my motto these days, and I’m constantly around and entertaining others without giving myself time to recharge. It’s like forgetting to charge my phone, and then getting frustrated at my phone for not letting me check if my bumble match responded when it runs out of battery. I have to take responsibility for the consequences of my actions while simultaneously acknowledging the signs these struggles are teaching me. It’s more than partying too hard and living my best life. It’s my body and mind sending me signals that I need to tend to myself. Change needs to happen.
As I’ve said before, chaos is creation, and there is nothing but beauty in these breakdowns because I know they’re happening for me, not to me. More sleep and more me time is essential right now. The struggle is real now that my internal clock has been completely fucked from this new life, but I’m working on it.
When there’s an ebb in the flow of life, it’s also important to express yourself. To say I’ve been bottling my feelings up like a beer can tossed around by a frat boy would be an understatement. I have some of the best friends one could ask for, but I am not one to talk to them often when I’m far away. Partially I don’t reach out because that entails filling them in on my life. way too fucking much has happened for me to succinctly go through all my crazy adventures, hookups, and questionable life choices. I wouldn’t dare tell my mom when I feel like this. If I coughed or sneezed on the phone, she would probably assume I had dangue fever with a 10% chance of survival, so I don’t want to give her heart palpitations by telling her my mental state has seen better days. The people here listen to enough of my shit, so I don’t want to blab more about how exhausted I am. To be honest, it’s almost like I forgot how to ask or get support. I wasn’t expressing what I needed to in order to feel heard, understood, or supported. So instead, that left me feeling alone, even in a room full of people.
This post isn’t being written so you will reach out saying some “You can always talk to me” etc. etc. That’s nice and all, but it’s more being written as my outlet to get what’s inside of me out. It’s letting the world know it’s okay to not be okay because that’s creation. It’s a reminder to us all that it’s beautiful to have a body that can tell us it’s time for a shift.
Now it’s time to ask how I can sustain this fun and exciting life in a more realistic, healthy way. What practices and self care do I need to implement to have my ebbs turn to flows before the waterworks begin. I’ve done the work to get my answers and am getting my flow back. Now all I need is some melatonin.
Brooke Lyn Landon 