Well… I’m back. I can’t say back and better quite yet, but we’re getting there… I think.
February pretty much sucked, my brain has been in a fuzz and my body had been screaming at me to slow down. It has been exhausting to ignore it’s pleas and continue to over function as I have my entire life. (per my therapist) but let me back track, and explain.
As much as I’ve wanted to give my full attention to creating, growing and making something of LivingLaud… In January I felt my existence slowly become unproductive and lacking inpurpose. After a few weeks of ghost writing articles I didn’t care to write, creating scripts for corny internet ads and making a fool of myself on instagram for more followers, I found myself really unamused by my routine and applied for an actual job.
Walking into this job, I was brought on as a part time executive assistant. It was all I really needed, and wanted so I could focus on my brain child. As luck would have it… A less than a week in my boss added to event coordination, copy writing and another 5 things onto my plate. Great right? I thought so too. Until I tried to juggle everything and found myself crying daily, picking my fingers bloody and dreading my self imposed deadlines, along with my work deadlines. I crammed all my personal creative work between 5 AM to 9 AM and went through the rest of my days working, and trying my best to make everyone happy… (I forgot myself in that equation)
Don’t get me wrong — I’m a morning person, but I was pretty much a mush for a brain by my first zoom meeting at 9:30. I pushed on and found myself leaving my creative work on the back burner, leading to more anxiety and reawakening my night terrors. (Ever been chased by a flaming trash can full of junk writing through a dimly lit basement? I have, repeated for the past three weeks.) I was too busy fixating on work to save any brain juice for my own work, and the dying flame of purpose was lurking in the back of my mind each day, begging for me to tend it.
Fast forward to two weeks ago, I’m miserable because I hadn’t had time to clean my apartment, do laundry or write any new chapters or essays when I decided to get out of my four walls to walk my dogs. I was on the phone having a mini melt down when my dog decided to slip from his leash and run (he’s an italian grey hound, so very quickly) off the train tracks and into the street. My immediate reaction was to run after him, into the middle of the road. Why? There was a sprinter van hauling ass directly toward my very tiny, very reckless Vold.
The world went black for about 15 seconds, and the next thing I knew I was face down in some very sharp rubble on the side of the road. The adrenaline made it impossible for me to really feel the extent of the injuires I sustained, so I proceeded to get up and continue to chase Vold, who was weaving in and out of bushes and really seemed to be enjoying his new found freedom. Thankfully, and to my embarrassment… The maintenance guy from my building heard my screech from the 17th floor and came down to help me capture Mr.Houdini and my best friend got there in the nick of time. They finally caught him. All the while I was sitting, trembling, and sobbing on a patch of grass next to the train tracks.
I managed to semi calm down when I got back to my apartment. Of course, my first impulse was to let my bosses know that there might be a slight delay in the blog post I was writing, because I kinda sorta got hit by a car. Afterward, I got in the shower where I shrunk down into a fetal position letting burning water hit my cuts and scrapes. My friend walked into the bathroom, probably alarmed and thinking that my screams were of pain and not total frustration and anger. Once she saw the shower situation, she backed out and opted to let me wrestle it out with myself. I was in a daze, waiting for the shock to pass crying, shaking, yelling at myself and God, because WHAT THE FUCK?
~Cue faith crisis~
Hear me out, I am a christian. I LOVE Jesus and everything that comes with walking with God. I honestly have prayer conversations daily and find comfort in knowing that everything happens for a reason, and that reason is God’s will. But really? What the hell was up with this? WHAT DID I DO WRONG? Here I was, living out my purpose, being a good person, doing all the right things, and this is what I get? What the heck are you trying to teach me right now Jesus? Still in the shower, I found myself so damn angry at everything. Why can’t good things just happen to me? Why do I need all these lessons and loses? Looking back, I’m pretty sure that getting hit by a car and coming out of it with minimal injuries was God’s way of telling me I had to slow down. But in that moment… I just wanted it to all go away, I hated the idea of slowing down to heal, and not being able to be the best version of myself for even a short amount of time. After the faith crisis, I spiraled into a full on existential crisis.
What have I done to leave a mark in the world? Have I helped anyone, really helped them? Have I told my mom I love her enough? Did I make a mistake removing the people I did from my life? What if I HAD died? Would anyone be able to say kind things about me? Would I be forgotten? (Still crying in the shower, BTW.) Nothing I’ve done seemed like enough, nothing I aspired to do seemed meaningful, what the hell am I doing with my gifts, skills or blessings?
The only conclusion I could reach at that moment, was absolutely nothing.
I went back to three years ago, when I chose a realtionshit (yes you read that right) over going to medical school, and the rest of the time I wasted watering a dead plant of a relationship. Could I have been a way better version of myself if I hadn’t spent those years dulling myself to fit into a role I was never meant to have? Or even worse, what if that was what I should have stuck to? Did I miss my ex? Was he the one true love of my life? Should I go back to that safe place and send my aspirations to hell? Should I text him?
The water ran cold, and thankfully I snapped out of it. But seriously, now what?
Here’s what… I’ve spent the last two weeks in the worst funk of my life. I’ve isolated myself, continued to over function at work (not the worst thing, I’m honestly crushing it at work) and tried my best to avoid any and all interactions with my close friends. Among my regrets is not being present for a few friends going through some pretty heavy life changes and being unable to be their advocate and support system like they have been for me time and time again. I’m not going to say my hermit coping mechanism is the best, or even acceptable… But unfortunately that is the default setting my brain goes into when I’m not in a good frame of mind. (sorry guys, I know I suck) As much as I wish I was in back in my groove, I’m just not yet. I will be, I know I can be, but going back to my faith — I really do believe that God is telling me I need to chill TF out with the over functioning and listen to my body and mind when they’re quite literally giving me every warning sign that I’m doing too much.
My anxiety has always been my worst enemy within my own body, and since my accident I’ve been having night terrors, and two to three anxiety attacks a day. You’d never guess it if you saw me at any given moment. I’ve had more than one acquaintance reach out and say they’re so happy to see that I’m feeling better, when the truth is anything but that. At work I bring a smile and a can do attitude, and I highly doubt anyone thinks anything is amiss. My body is in shambles, and my head is worse, but here I am. Here I’ll continue to be.
I switched gears yesterday, and decided to take the day to cleanse my apartment of anything that might trigger another anxiety attack, or a rabbit hole of unwelcome feels. I disinfected the crap out of every nook and cranny, and slowly began to feel better. Once I finished cleaning, I went for a long walk with my dogs, destination unknown and ended up in the same bench where two years ago, I almost literally felt my heart break into pieces (long story for another day). Sitting there I made the choice to push through this funk, put my big girl pants back on and move forward into what I can only hope will be a beautiful, purpose filled life. When I got back home afterward, I emptied out my junk closet and remade it into an office. It sounds silly, but it’s honestly an attempt to reignite my burnt out brain. So yeah… If this past month has taught me anything… It’s that I’m not even scratching the surface of what I want to be, and there’s way too much of me, to share with all of you.
So hey, crisis still in full unleash, but I just have to keep telling myself… The best is yet to come.
