We all have them: the days where it feels like our world is spinning so fast that we just can’t quite keep up. In the midst of my move, I’ve had a lot of them and instead of taking the time I really needed to relax, breathe and deal with the emotions and overwhelmingness of the whole thing, I pressed on. I added to my plate.
And then, today, my plate kind of topped over and shattered all over my recently-mopped-by-Mom-floors (thanks Mom!).
As far as meltdowns go, it wasn’t that bad. I cried a little, but I only needed one tissue to dry the tears. (I sniffled a lot though, I’ll be honest.) It was the result of a couple of weeks of freaking out internally without letting any of it out. Kind of like shaking a pop bottle and then cracking the top.
Rather like gas, you (almost) always feel better after you let it out and so, I actually felt a lot better after having about 10 minutes of unleashing all of my stress and frustration and fear and nervousness and WHAT THE FUCK on my Mom (thanks again, Mom!) but soon guilt began to set in. I hate putting my shit on other people. And it’s that hate for unloading my emotions on others that put me in my living room after work, bubbling over.
At the end of the day, four hours post-meltdown, I’m totally OK. I shed my tears and I took my deep breaths and I stepped back for a moment until I could put it all in perspective. I’m doing OK. I’ll be fine.
And, when all else fails I’ll just remind myself that I’m not this person: