Thursday
Nov032011
And In The Second Year Of Her Sobriety, She Freaked The Hell Out
Thursday, November 3, 2011
I am trying to accept that sometimes I need to be an overwhelmed, emotional mess. So much is zooming around in my brain sometimes that it's important to just collapse and let it all come out in sobs, whispers, snot bubbles.
This is the view from my therapeutic bath, from which I am writing this weblog entry.
I am terrible at accepting my need to let it all out, though, because I like to feel as though I have a measure of control. So, instead of just letting it all out naturally, I end up trying to make time for it, because it just makes so much sense to say to all your crazy Hey, Crazy, how's Thursday at 3:15 p.m. for you? If you get good and broken down, you'll still have time to recover for your 7:00 p.m. meeting.
Of course, my crazy doesn't respond well to my scheduling attempts. Case in point: me finding myself face down on my kitchen floor in response to the Palinode asking me how my day was last night.
I was hoping to put off such a meltdown until at least two weeks from now, but when I tried telling the Palinode what my day was like, it all, quite literally, went south.
"This last month of my life just feels like it's been too much, you know? I did all that fear conquering stuff with the dentist and the public speaking and the plane travel, and then..." I said from a perfectly normal standing position.
"...my grandpa died and we had the memorial and that weekend with family, and then my computer ate all the work I did today..." I huffed while bent over at the waist, arms dangling.
"...and I know that this is probably not a good time, because it's less than two months to Christmas, but my availability was terrible and unfair to my co-workers, so I quit my job today." I said, crouched over on my knees.
"You quit your job today?" he asked.
"Yeah, I quit my job. Wait," I said. "Am I face down on the kitchen floor?"
And, lo and behold, quite without choosing to be so, I was. My lips were brushing the linoleum as I spoke.
My crazy refuses to be scheduled, apparently. It also prefers to choose its own battleground. Why it would choose a faceplant on the kitchen floor over, say, a tropical resort, I have no idea. I think my crazy needs to re-prioritize.
It turns out that a faceplant on the floor was exactly what I needed, though. Instead of holding it all in and spackling over my heavy emotions with flat logic, my body took over and said You need to freak out, sister. Finding myself face down on the kitchen floor actually felt like a fortifying vitamin shot to the heart.
One of the biggest lessons my sobriety is teaching me right now is how to be an emotional person without running away to numb myself, and, as strange as it might sound, collapsing last night felt so incredibly human; I felt comforted by it. As much as all the noise of human emotions can be daunting and scary and downright inconvenient, especially after two decades of drinking them down, these same emotions are also the door to coming home to myself. When my mind and my body collude to make me finally let this shit out, and once I get comfortable with the humbling experience of kissing my linty floor, I can see myself. I can actually sit inside myself. Me as contentious object turns into me as Self.
I'm not suggesting that we all get down on our knees and make out with our respective kitchen flooring, though. Definitely not. Especially if you keep your house the way I do.
I am suggesting, though, that it can be a more relieving experience than we usually think it might be to get right down in the mud with ourselves, even if only for five minutes. It can feel like a revelation to be able to acknowledge with real feeling that today was the worst day ever and to let things move on through as they will when we aren't so busy shoving them back down deep into the middles of ourselves.
This is the view from my therapeutic bath, from which I am writing this weblog entry.
I am terrible at accepting my need to let it all out, though, because I like to feel as though I have a measure of control. So, instead of just letting it all out naturally, I end up trying to make time for it, because it just makes so much sense to say to all your crazy Hey, Crazy, how's Thursday at 3:15 p.m. for you? If you get good and broken down, you'll still have time to recover for your 7:00 p.m. meeting.
Of course, my crazy doesn't respond well to my scheduling attempts. Case in point: me finding myself face down on my kitchen floor in response to the Palinode asking me how my day was last night.
I was hoping to put off such a meltdown until at least two weeks from now, but when I tried telling the Palinode what my day was like, it all, quite literally, went south.
"This last month of my life just feels like it's been too much, you know? I did all that fear conquering stuff with the dentist and the public speaking and the plane travel, and then..." I said from a perfectly normal standing position.
"...my grandpa died and we had the memorial and that weekend with family, and then my computer ate all the work I did today..." I huffed while bent over at the waist, arms dangling.
"...and I know that this is probably not a good time, because it's less than two months to Christmas, but my availability was terrible and unfair to my co-workers, so I quit my job today." I said, crouched over on my knees.
"You quit your job today?" he asked.
"Yeah, I quit my job. Wait," I said. "Am I face down on the kitchen floor?"
And, lo and behold, quite without choosing to be so, I was. My lips were brushing the linoleum as I spoke.
My crazy refuses to be scheduled, apparently. It also prefers to choose its own battleground. Why it would choose a faceplant on the kitchen floor over, say, a tropical resort, I have no idea. I think my crazy needs to re-prioritize.
It turns out that a faceplant on the floor was exactly what I needed, though. Instead of holding it all in and spackling over my heavy emotions with flat logic, my body took over and said You need to freak out, sister. Finding myself face down on the kitchen floor actually felt like a fortifying vitamin shot to the heart.
One of the biggest lessons my sobriety is teaching me right now is how to be an emotional person without running away to numb myself, and, as strange as it might sound, collapsing last night felt so incredibly human; I felt comforted by it. As much as all the noise of human emotions can be daunting and scary and downright inconvenient, especially after two decades of drinking them down, these same emotions are also the door to coming home to myself. When my mind and my body collude to make me finally let this shit out, and once I get comfortable with the humbling experience of kissing my linty floor, I can see myself. I can actually sit inside myself. Me as contentious object turns into me as Self.
I'm not suggesting that we all get down on our knees and make out with our respective kitchen flooring, though. Definitely not. Especially if you keep your house the way I do.
I am suggesting, though, that it can be a more relieving experience than we usually think it might be to get right down in the mud with ourselves, even if only for five minutes. It can feel like a revelation to be able to acknowledge with real feeling that today was the worst day ever and to let things move on through as they will when we aren't so busy shoving them back down deep into the middles of ourselves.
Reader Comments (36)
You are getting in touch with yourself, and I think it is great. Even if it is a hard process. Things will work out. Just make sure you turn on that special light for the winter.
About once a quarter, usually near a full moon, I do that. The last time I did it, I didn't even know why. I just hit a breaking point after a long period of holding it together under a lot of stress. I've stopped trying to find the reason and just go into a room and cry until I feel better so I don't scare my kid, although I've noticed she is quite wiley at seven and is not scared or frankly surprised when I freak out. She asks me why I'm crying when she discovers my hidey-hole and I say I don't know, I don't always know, so I'm waiting for it to pass. And she hugs me and part of me hopes I've let her know it's okay to lose it every once in a while.
Peace out, sister.
Schmutzie, I think you are one of the bravest, smartest, most insightful, the funniest and most articulate people I have never met.
Oh, DUDE. Can I give you a BIG VIRTUAL HUG?
Also, do you want to have coffee on Sunday? (Seriously.) (You can snuggle a baby.) (It always helps me.)
you are so on your way, congratulations for another milestone....breakdown precedes breakthrough... sometimes we just need to come apart so we can find a new together, particularly when the past month has been soooo demanding inwardly and outwardly, i wish i knew you on a proximal level, would love to walk and talk and hang out with you
That was a beautiful read!
I am the Founder of the Tears Reclamation Project and want to welcome you to it! ;-)
Well done!
I kinda need to face plant right now too.
I too am one of those people that thinks I can schedule my breakdowns.
Me: "listen, this week is already crazy. How about sometime in December? Look, I frankly just don't have time to commit to this right now."
My crazy: "O RLY??? BWAHAHAHAHA!"
Then I find myself sobbing and not being able to explain why. I do hope one day I will come to terms with this is how I am and lean into it instead of putting it off.
I enjoyed this piece, very well written.
Unfortunately, you were face down on the floor, but life does have its odd ah-ha moments.
Perhaps you should wash said floor in case it happens again . ;)
This right here:
One of the biggest lessons my sobriety is teaching me right now is how to be an emotional person without running away to numb myself, and, as strange as it might sound, collapsing last night felt so incredibly human; I felt comforted by it. As much as all the noise of human emotions can be daunting and scary and downright inconvenient, especially after two decades of drinking them down, these same emotions are also the door to coming home to myself. When my mind and my body collude to make me finally let this shit out, and once I get comfortable with the humbling experience of kissing my linty floor, I can see myself. I can actually sit inside myself. Me as contentious object turns into me as Self.
is everything right.
"Bent at the waist, arms dangling." Ah, so been there. Like, today even. I can't say I've done the face plant on the kitchen floor thing. Not because I haven't felt the need...rather, I'm more fond of the curled up in the fetal position in the family room thing instead.
For me, a way of moving into a place of being ok with my tears, wherever and whenever they arrived, was singing. And then, remembering all the years the little girl me was told to not cry, to stop being a crybaby. In other words, I was taught to stuff my emotions, to invalidate my feelings. It still makes me angry, that. Thankfully, I know now that it is extremely unhealthy for me. Being compassionate with myself, though not always easy, is definitely worth the effort!
After spending an entire lifetime being told NOT to express my emotions under any circumstances, it is such a relief to be married, with children and know it is okay to express them when they surface. It certainly was difficult to learn that I could cry when I wanted to & no one would find me and berate me for expressing my sadness. My Mom even yelled at me for crying at my Dad's funeral. I had to wait until everyone was asleep that evening and then I cried all evening - I was 30 years old and still afraid of my Mom's anger. I've been blessed with a husband who like me, believes in expressing emotions. Thank goodness since we have two daughters!!! They know they can (and have) tell us anything and are free to express happiness, sadness, anger and all emotions when they need to. We've been fortunate enough to break that cycle. I celebrate that all the time.
I feel one of those moments coming. I am running hard and fast in front of the train. I can hear it, feel it coming. The tracks are rumblinig. "Not yet," I scream, "I don't have time right now." Faster. Faster I run. The horn blows.......
Big hugs, friend.
Have I told you lately that the sight of your face and the lilt in your voice makes me smile when I think of you? True story.
i want to be you. Yes, even with the crazy freak outs. Because you, my friend, are real. And Honest. And oh, SO STRONG.
I'm terrible with these types of emotional breakdowns - they're painful and exhausting. But just remember... they're helpful because in getting back up off the floor we become stronger each time - more resilient too, for the next time when everything crashes down around us. I agree - you're full of bravery and courage. Keep your chin up! Things will get better.
There is always that feeling of relief when the emotions get out and the crying and lying on the kitchen floor is over. I am always amazed that my shoulders are looser and it is as if I've had a massage - my emotions having held my muscles hostage.
This was such an honest piece, and I am touched by it. Thank you for sharing such an intimate moment.
When my children were small and would explode in tantrums or tears, I used to secretly envy them. How many times did I want to thrash around on the floor and yell "No, no, no" at the top of my lungs? When they screamed "I want daddy!" I wanted to say,"I want him too!" When they transitioned from uncontrollable sobbing mess to smiling child in 20 minutes or less, I knew they were onto something. The exhaustion of parenting wasn't always about sleep deprivation, it was from thinking I always had to hold myself together no matter how tired, frustrated, angry, upset, or sad I was.
I hope you turn a corner soon. And I appreciate your honesty in writing about your moments with the kitchen floor. One day I may write about closing myself up in the closet and crying into my bathrobe sleeve.
You know, when you look at the list of the things you had to go through to get to Crazy, you deserved every second of your time on the floor. That's a lot of stuff to work through, so be compassionate to yourself. :)
Absolutely yes.
As I get older, I understand, "No way around it, only through it."
I don't contain anymore...I go through it.
I let myself just the other day, when I realized my first baby--the one I waited a lifetime for--will be leaving us in 1.5 years.
That'll do it.
Faceplant.
Oh yes, I know this place. The "nope, sorry, not convenient for me to have a meltdown now, next week looks like a much better time" and the innocuous question that leads to the emotional dam burst, and the huge and sheepish relief that comes afterward. Not only have I learned to embrace the release and the faceplant, but I've learned to stop doing it online. Win-win.
Hoping the worst is done for you -- for now, at least.
I am also a postponer of breakdowns. Sometimes it works, briefly. Mostly I find myself wondering why I'm inexplicably enraged.
Who-hoooooo! So proud of you sister.
I freak the hell out in the second hour of almost every day. You're incredible. I love your honesty. I hope your kitchen floor cleanse paved the way for some peace this weekend. Job schmob. You can get another one if/when you're ready. And I second Neil's suggestion—god made that special light for a reason. If it helps, plug her in!
Pretty sure if I face planted on my kitchen floor it would send me straight to the looney bin. I used to be such a neat freak and now I can trace my entire month of dinners on that floor. But on the bright side should we ever go hungry...I know exactly where to find a chicken wing.
Also...I love the way you wrote this.
I once told my shrink that I didn't understand why I never drank when I was happy. It took her about 3 minutes to stop laughing.
Honest emotions are very inconvenient. I know. And once you allow them to have a voice, they will not relinquish their platform. xo
thank you, thank you. My emotional sequestering currently extends to tears as soon as I walk through the doors into the quiet of my (wonderful) Unitarian church...but it's a start. Your face-plant story is paving the way for bigger and broader. thank you, thank you
I admit, I was going to come in shoe shopping there today. I have my eyes on a pair of Joseph Seibel's somewhere else and I really want a pair of Merrels (the slipper ones with plaid trim). I'm afraid that I'd look like a jerk saying "I read your blog, now show me some shoes". Then I got distracted at Soft Moc looking at impractical moccasins that made no sense and decided to get the heck out of the mall-crazy that was beginning. Anyway, I know it seems ridiculous, but it is just a shoe store - and there must be places around that can work around a pretty random kind of schedule. Breathe and remember that the economy here is pretty good for work.
xoxo
Everyone should be kissing the kitchen floor now and then, just to put things in perspective, you know? Except my kitchen floor, since I haven't mopped it since, like, august.
You're so damned brave. I love you.
This post made me teary, because I had the same feelings that everything was JUST TOO MUCH this week as well. There's so many wonderful and happy and amazing things, but then the other awful stuff just piles up farther and farther and I can't.get.away.from.it.
Funny how I feel so much like you and I are in the same spaces, but for wildly different reasons, and how just reading posts like this makes me feel like I'm SO not alone.
Thank you. Maybe I'll go clean my floor now, just in case :)
I have had about a month of feeling like my head was going under water and have had several small breakdowns in that time. Perhaps I may try the kitchen floor next time--and there will be a next time. Change of scene might be nice.
Thanks for writing what I needed to hear.
thank you for this. I envy you in a way for this, but I'm trying to see this as inspiration....I can't even go 2 days without a drink right now.