I’ve wanted to write for over a week, but my brain was too much…my brain doesn’t stop ever, unless I’m meditating, doing yoga, or smoking weed. All the time that I’m living life, in the back of mind there’s a list constantly running:

When is B’s next orthodontist appt? Need to email the school again about bullying. Did I give Rhett his Prozac? Did I give Sweet Boy his Prozac and prazosin? Shit, gotta pick up refills at Publix. And have to make a Target pick up list. What am I gonna do for suppers this week? Gotta look at the lawyer’s website and make sure I’ve got all my tasks done…god I better win in court against Preston. Speaking of house, I need to email the contractor to see when all this shit is gonna be done. Really miss Stormageddon (our outdoor cat) and hope he’s in the yard the next time I go by. When’s the last time the dogs went out to potty? Need to call L (oldest brother) and catch up. Are the kids spending too much time on screens? Does it really matter while we’re living in a fucking hotel room. I miss being able to smell coffee (thanks COVID). I really miss my Dad & can’t wait to hug him again. I wish my Momma was still alive, I miss her. I miss Ranger. Did I pay the outstanding doctor bills? I hope J’a anxiety meds help, i can’t take another meltdown this week. Fuck. I really hope we get National healthcare because otherwise wtf is B gonna do when they get older…..yeah, that’s my brain.

So Wednesday when I had some work stress, I lost it. Not like in a lose my job sort of way, but more like “omg I’ve been barely holding on and this sent me over the edge” sort of way. A friend said “folks rarely go from 0 to 60 in an instant: we don’t know how long they’ve been hanging on at 59”, and that’s exactly what happened. I’d been sitting at 59.5 since that early morning when J had a meltdown that included me having to pull over and walk for a couple of minutes, because I needed to not be in a car wreck. I had 999 cuts, and work was 1000.

I took 2 mental health days. Thursday I literally spent the day in bed, crying on and off right until I picked up my kids from school. We watched a movie together and i slept a solid 8.5 hrs…my brain got a hard reboot. And then we took a family mental health day on Friday, to decompress together.

Being raised in a cult, complaining wasn’t really a thing that you did; because if you had hardships in your life, god gave those to you for a reason. You bore suffering like Job did, and you THANKED god for the suffering because that meant you could glorify god with your faithful attitude. Then during my abusive marriage, I was gaslit & abused constantly to the point of me just learning to not complain or ask for help.

No wonder at 45, I still have problems showing vulnerability and any “negative” emotion.

I sent a Slack message to my manager late Thursday night, explaining my emotional outburst and apologizing for unloading on her. Being open to real life folks is HARD for me, because for some reason I think that I need to be the mom, friend, daughter, and employee who can do EVERYTHING. If I can’t do it all then I’m a failure and deserve to struggle.

Pretty fucked up huh?

I’m grateful for friends who validate that I’m dealing with trauma and stressors that are REAL and difficult. They let me fall apart, and support me in getting back up. Whenever catch myself feeling shame over my “come apart” I remind myself that emotions are allowed in life, and that I’m living under a tremendous amount of stress right now; and I remind myself that this stress is not forever.

And now I’ll go smoke a bowl, do some Yoga With Adriene, and meditate with Jennifer Piercy.