Leaving On an (Emotionally Stunted) Jet Plane

I am not sure if any of you have noticed my absence as of late. It has been a dozy lately. I have felt completely unmotivated.  I was unable to write a blog post. I was unable to workout regularly.

I was finding no enjoyment in cooking or eating (huge red flag.) I was exhausted all the time; constantly out of energy.

I would start writing a draft for a blog post and soon after I would find I was rambling on about things I wasn’t interested in, just trying to fill in space. You guys deserve more than that. I deserve more than that.

I would start thinking of things to cook for my family and realize I didn’t have the energy or drive to make it at all, let alone from scratch. My family deserves more than that.

Here’s the thing, I was going through a bit of a health scare. I was not ready to release it to the world, for fear that it would be the worst. I was holding it all in internally, trying to put on a brave face to those that I had included.

If I said it out loud, it would become real. I was scouring the internet for any additional information I could find to explain what might/was about to/could happen. Worst idea ever.

Google is a black hole of worst case scenarios. I know this, yet I still google.

It was zapping me of my life force. It was draining me of who I was, and all because I was afraid to express my fear and vulnerability.

I call it being strong. Clinical professionals would call it avoidance behavior, but what do they know.

I wasn’t letting people in. They would ask me, how are you feeling about it?

“Fine.” My favorite word for “I’M LOSING MY EFFING MIND, BUT I CAN’T TELL YOU THAT BECAUSE THEN YOU WILL SEE ME FOR THE WEAK AND FRAIL HUMAN MISTAKE I AM!”

Totally normal, right??

You see, deep down in me there is this very small fracture. It has been there since I was an adolescent. It has always maintained itself as a thin line that causes minimal adaptations to my life.

But you add the hot pressurized steam of unknown things I cannot control, and it expands and lets out excess fear and anxiety that I rarely have to deal with. It starts to boil and causes me to become but a shell of who I once was.

I am broken deep inside, just like most of us out there. My brokenness has created in me a massive need to be seen as strong at all times; to never be effected; to not have too many emotions.

If they know you have emotions, they can come after them. See? It’s a defense mechanism. And it has been exhausting me to the point of concern for 3 weeks.

So, here I am, letting you see my cracks. Letting you see deep inside the squeamishness of my vulnerability. Letting you witness for yourself that I am, in fact, destructible.

And I know you are over there thinking, “what a wuss,” but hear me out.

I am not longer going to put band-aids over my deep-down fracture. (My husband is clapping right now.) I am ready to start fixing it for the long term. I am ready to admit it exists in the first place.

What has changed between 3 weeks ago and now? Great question.

I got test results back and it was best possible scenario. I’m gonna be a-ok. But I don’t want to react to a similar situation like this again should it arise.

So here I go….

Sometimes I cry. There, I said it.

Sometimes I go numb to everything.

Sometimes I panic and don’t do the right thing.

Sometimes I lose my temper and yell at my kids (and my husband).

Sometimes I shut down so tight that even I can’t open me back up.

Sometimes when things get hard, I just pretend nothing happened.

Sometimes I try to sleep through the hard stuff. Sometimes I try to drink through it.

This has been my cycle for most of my adult life. I don’t want this cycle for my children, so I am working on it. And the first step is admitting you have a problem, right?

I am lucky, in the fact that God sent me several people in my life that are highly vulnerable and emotional. They routinely emote and act like normal human beings so I can see that nobody beats you up if you have feelings.

People still like them. They are still married, their kids still talk to them and no one slaps them on a daily basis. Maybe being vulnerable isn’t everything I thought it was….

I’m not 100% on-board, but I have purchased a boarding pass and am patiently waiting my turn in the security line. I need to get through the painful emotional “pat-down” before I can board the vulnerability plane. I’ll be boarding with a bit of baggage, which of course costs extra, but it will be worth it once it lands.

But, I’ll get there. And I will deplane and take a deep, fresh breath of air. And I will be so vulnerable at that moment, that I will weep at the beauty of the sunset, and share all my feelings.

But, until then, I’ll be fine. 😉

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