I’ve been holding it in all summer long. With every day that goes by I think to myself something will eventually break and I can be what I used to know as happy again if only for a moment. Coincidentally with every day I wake up I think to myself maybe it will be cooler today and I won’t have to on the air conditioning at 10am. Then yesterday, the Summer was officially over, and something miraculous happened. I fell down.
On to the floor of my kitchen I slid which hasn’t been cleaned since the Spring. I sat there trying to hold back my emotions while taking a drag of my cigarette thinking in some way that it will make it easier for me to deal with the fact that I am crying my eyes out at 3pm on a Wednesday because of some trigger I planted in my brain years ago. My heavy heart was sinking my proverbial ship, and there I sat on the linoleum floor trying not to take deep breaths with tears running down my face, breaking down the static in my head as Counting Crows played in the background.
It doesn’t get much worse than this.
Ironically, that was the thought that was coming into my head just at the same time that those were the lyrics coming out of my speakers. Coincidence? Probably not. I know better.
But, if I knew better then why am I laying on the ground feeling all the pent up emotions that I have pushed away for three months while I try to decide if it’s going to hurt too much to stand up and get a paper towel to dry my eyes? Why do I keep putting myself in harms way and expect things to get better when the past has taught me that they won’t? And why does this incessant heat wave always seem to coincide with how I’m feeling? I’m trapped inside my apartment and I have never wanted it to be 60 degrees and raining more than I did yesterday.
I felt lost and alone because I don’t know what to do with my life anymore and everyone seems to go away. I felt empty and tired because I hadn’t eaten much since Sunday and I hadn’t slept much either. I felt battered and emotionally beaten because I had been my own worst enemy for far too long these past three months. I had been praying for weeks and asking for an answer to come, and apparently as it turns out, I had been waiting a long time only to fall down.
Maybe that’s what I needed. Maybe I needed another mental breakdown to happen on the floor of my kitchen because that’s where I learn the most about myself. Maybe it will get better from here because as far as I can see through my own fears, this is pretty much the saddest, most pathetic 45 minutes I’ve ever spent in my own body which was now slouched against the refrigerator staring at my kitchen cabinets which need to be painted.
I was texting my only friend who would listen things like “I don’t want to live like this anymore.” & “It’s been harder on me than I’ve let on” and I think I do that because it’s the absolute truth and I hope it will set me free, and I do it so I don’t feel like I’m going through this alone even though my cat wouldn’t even come close to me as I called out to her in between my gasping for air.
These are the moments that I don’t want anyone to know about. These are the moments when I eventually look back and say that was when my life changed forever, and these are the moments when I want to keep things to myself, but everything in my brain is telling me the only way to get through this time is to stop hiding behind your pride, be honest with yourself, get the fuck up off the ground, and write about it.
So here we are.