When I name these posts I usually google the title for a related image. Today came up with nothing. How is invisibly broken not a thing? It needs to be a thing. Maybe I will be the one to make it something. Maybe that will be the title to my book .. you know the invisible one. Either way.... Invisibly Broken is the best description I can come up with for myself at the moment.
Some of you know.. some of you don't. On Sunday a dark storm hit unlike one I have seen in quite a while. Don't get me wrong, the darkness usually shows up about every 3 months or so, and it is no fun, and it is really nothing to make light off but compared to what reared its ugly head on Sunday those were shirt tail breezes. I was fine on Saturday. I even said to my dearest friend, look at me being fine through Mother's Day! I truly believed at that moment I was. Sunday I worked brunch it was the insanity we thought it would be but I was fine... or so I thought. I thought wrong. Just a few hours after leaving the restaurant my brain did a nose dive plummet into the darkest depths of hell. My own personal hell, where my brain tells me that I am worthless, I am a fraud, I am a pathetic waste of space, and humanity would be better off without me. As the winds of self loathing and doubt whipped around me, in washed the crashing waves of pain. Yes physically manifested pain. If I had not known better I would have sworn I had either the worst case of flu possible or I had been run over by a truck going 90 and then galloped on by a zebra and baby kangaroo. As the tears would not stop I contemplated my purpose and my existence, after not coming up with anything meaningful, thoughts shifted to how to make my death look mysterious and nonsuicidal. Lucky for me, everything was too messy or too involved and I just didn't have the energy to pull it off. I say lucky for me but honestly I am still not back to a place that I feel lucky to be alive. It's more of a life in the fog and mire at the moment, with everything being weighed down with a thick blanket of February molasses. Have I mentioned I truly hate being sticky?
I reached out to people I felt needed to know, all of them had an encouraging word. Maybe I didn't express in quite enough detail exactly where I was because most had a nonchalant.. power through, chin up, you can do it quip of a speech then they moved on to other topics. In my head I was screaming.. "I AM CALLING TO SAY GOODBYE TO YOU..I am never going to speak to you again... please come save me, I don't care what the next door neighbors dog did to your cousins lama or that your hair cut was horrible! Ok maybe I care about that last part I don't want you at my funeral party looking like a reject from 1982". But you get my point... they couldn't see, they couldn't hear, and they couldn't understand where I was. I was invisibly broken and felt like I would be invisibly dead. I some how made it through Monday doing some things here and there that may help me in the future, the entire time my brain was saying, this is so stupid, you won't succeed at this either, hell you aren't even planning on living long enough to get to the second appointment, why are you throwing away money that could be better used to bury your stupid ass. I went anyway in a very robotic type action... I called to get the house cleaned, I had the yard mowed, I did the laundry, I went to work. You don't want to leave these things for someone else...
More on this in a moment.
During my stint in hell the one place that I could and still find peace is at the restaurant, it's the place that was safe after Deanna's accident. The place that as I walked through the door I could hang up this darkness for just a little while. As I breezed through the doors on Monday afternoon over an hour early for my shift I blew the dust off of the peg, threw off the invisible cloak of pain, and tossed it aside in a familiar but slightly out of practiced manner. It worked... I returned again on Tuesday... Thursday... today... (Wednesday I didn't fair as well as the other nights but that is neither here nor there) my point is it is so incredibly important to have that space where you know... know matter what you are going to be ok! Even if you are surrounded by really sharp knives. As I leave there at night... regardless if I want it to or not the cloak of darkness trails along with me, it is just a little bit lighter each time.
One of the crappiest things about this episode wasn't so much the constant thoughts of death, trust me, they scare you so much more than they scare me. I would gladly lay down with death if it meant my brain was at peace for more than a few hours at a time, no that wasn't the crappiest. I didn't go to Reboot. It wasn't that I just didn't go... I physically could not. Between the exhaustion, the pain, and the panic attacks just tossed in for fun I could not get out the door. So I didn't, for 4 days. I returned today and it proved to be as hard as I imagined. Before I could get to my jeep this morning my hands were sweating, my heart was racing and I physically wanted to vomit. My heart kept saying "just go.. go you damn fool!" And my brain chimed in and said.. "you stupid fraud. How are you going to face these people, who counted on you, who depended on you to be there, who looked to you for guidance and direction, you let every one of them down. You're no coach. You're no friend. You are nothing. You should have gone with the "accidentally fell in the tiger pit at the zoo while drunk" idea.. no one would have suspected." I literally had to force myself to shut the jeep door, but I went, and spent an hour and 15 minutes trying not to cry in shame, because I can't be who I promised them.
I can't even be who I promised me I would be.
I came home, paid all the bills, made an appointment to fix my windshield, I mailed the check for the June vacation.. and once again reported that I was doing the things. I have been doing the things... the things that look oddly like moving forward but every so often feel just like wrapping up..
I can call you.. I can talk to you about old lady in piggly wiggly who slipped on a grape and knocked out the cashier with a flying frozen cornish hen and you may never know. I may run into you while you are out buying your third removed step brothers baby by your mama's sister a onsie and you may never know. I can comment on your post about your fatty skinny 2 year old (that maybe really happened....) and you may never know. You can text me, email me, call me, you can be my friend, my brother, my lover, or my mother... and you may never know.
But right now... right this minute... you know.
My wish for this world is that we start to see the invisibly broken and hear them. Know that the pain they are in is not a place they want to be but a place that has manifested from some dark corner of their brain and even when it doesn't look like it they really are trying to claw their way out of the closet where they are hidden behind the worn out shoes no one remembers.
As for me... right this minute.. I am going to keep doing the things... and regardless of which ever side I land on my toilet will be clean!
Love and Peace,
Re
Some of you know.. some of you don't. On Sunday a dark storm hit unlike one I have seen in quite a while. Don't get me wrong, the darkness usually shows up about every 3 months or so, and it is no fun, and it is really nothing to make light off but compared to what reared its ugly head on Sunday those were shirt tail breezes. I was fine on Saturday. I even said to my dearest friend, look at me being fine through Mother's Day! I truly believed at that moment I was. Sunday I worked brunch it was the insanity we thought it would be but I was fine... or so I thought. I thought wrong. Just a few hours after leaving the restaurant my brain did a nose dive plummet into the darkest depths of hell. My own personal hell, where my brain tells me that I am worthless, I am a fraud, I am a pathetic waste of space, and humanity would be better off without me. As the winds of self loathing and doubt whipped around me, in washed the crashing waves of pain. Yes physically manifested pain. If I had not known better I would have sworn I had either the worst case of flu possible or I had been run over by a truck going 90 and then galloped on by a zebra and baby kangaroo. As the tears would not stop I contemplated my purpose and my existence, after not coming up with anything meaningful, thoughts shifted to how to make my death look mysterious and nonsuicidal. Lucky for me, everything was too messy or too involved and I just didn't have the energy to pull it off. I say lucky for me but honestly I am still not back to a place that I feel lucky to be alive. It's more of a life in the fog and mire at the moment, with everything being weighed down with a thick blanket of February molasses. Have I mentioned I truly hate being sticky?
I reached out to people I felt needed to know, all of them had an encouraging word. Maybe I didn't express in quite enough detail exactly where I was because most had a nonchalant.. power through, chin up, you can do it quip of a speech then they moved on to other topics. In my head I was screaming.. "I AM CALLING TO SAY GOODBYE TO YOU..I am never going to speak to you again... please come save me, I don't care what the next door neighbors dog did to your cousins lama or that your hair cut was horrible! Ok maybe I care about that last part I don't want you at my funeral party looking like a reject from 1982". But you get my point... they couldn't see, they couldn't hear, and they couldn't understand where I was. I was invisibly broken and felt like I would be invisibly dead. I some how made it through Monday doing some things here and there that may help me in the future, the entire time my brain was saying, this is so stupid, you won't succeed at this either, hell you aren't even planning on living long enough to get to the second appointment, why are you throwing away money that could be better used to bury your stupid ass. I went anyway in a very robotic type action... I called to get the house cleaned, I had the yard mowed, I did the laundry, I went to work. You don't want to leave these things for someone else...
More on this in a moment.
During my stint in hell the one place that I could and still find peace is at the restaurant, it's the place that was safe after Deanna's accident. The place that as I walked through the door I could hang up this darkness for just a little while. As I breezed through the doors on Monday afternoon over an hour early for my shift I blew the dust off of the peg, threw off the invisible cloak of pain, and tossed it aside in a familiar but slightly out of practiced manner. It worked... I returned again on Tuesday... Thursday... today... (Wednesday I didn't fair as well as the other nights but that is neither here nor there) my point is it is so incredibly important to have that space where you know... know matter what you are going to be ok! Even if you are surrounded by really sharp knives. As I leave there at night... regardless if I want it to or not the cloak of darkness trails along with me, it is just a little bit lighter each time.
One of the crappiest things about this episode wasn't so much the constant thoughts of death, trust me, they scare you so much more than they scare me. I would gladly lay down with death if it meant my brain was at peace for more than a few hours at a time, no that wasn't the crappiest. I didn't go to Reboot. It wasn't that I just didn't go... I physically could not. Between the exhaustion, the pain, and the panic attacks just tossed in for fun I could not get out the door. So I didn't, for 4 days. I returned today and it proved to be as hard as I imagined. Before I could get to my jeep this morning my hands were sweating, my heart was racing and I physically wanted to vomit. My heart kept saying "just go.. go you damn fool!" And my brain chimed in and said.. "you stupid fraud. How are you going to face these people, who counted on you, who depended on you to be there, who looked to you for guidance and direction, you let every one of them down. You're no coach. You're no friend. You are nothing. You should have gone with the "accidentally fell in the tiger pit at the zoo while drunk" idea.. no one would have suspected." I literally had to force myself to shut the jeep door, but I went, and spent an hour and 15 minutes trying not to cry in shame, because I can't be who I promised them.
I can't even be who I promised me I would be.
I came home, paid all the bills, made an appointment to fix my windshield, I mailed the check for the June vacation.. and once again reported that I was doing the things. I have been doing the things... the things that look oddly like moving forward but every so often feel just like wrapping up..
I can call you.. I can talk to you about old lady in piggly wiggly who slipped on a grape and knocked out the cashier with a flying frozen cornish hen and you may never know. I may run into you while you are out buying your third removed step brothers baby by your mama's sister a onsie and you may never know. I can comment on your post about your fatty skinny 2 year old (that maybe really happened....) and you may never know. You can text me, email me, call me, you can be my friend, my brother, my lover, or my mother... and you may never know.
But right now... right this minute... you know.
My wish for this world is that we start to see the invisibly broken and hear them. Know that the pain they are in is not a place they want to be but a place that has manifested from some dark corner of their brain and even when it doesn't look like it they really are trying to claw their way out of the closet where they are hidden behind the worn out shoes no one remembers.
As for me... right this minute.. I am going to keep doing the things... and regardless of which ever side I land on my toilet will be clean!
Love and Peace,
Re
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