The Overshare

I have had to, in recent days, revisit the version of me in this picture. This was 2010.

While I would love to be slightly less skinny than this (this was a tad extra) and have that same skin quality, I don't EVER want to be this version of me again.

This girl, as happens to all of us in this journey of life, had had a couple or more (might even have been just one bad year - the details are hazy, and I don't care to delve into them) of phenomenally bad years. This girl.... I... was not ok. Far from it. I was on the verge of tears 24/7. Yes, I know I am generally supremely emotional, but this was a whole other level. I was feeling many, terrible, hopeless things all at once. And simultaneously I felt vacant. A walking shell. I was forgetting to eat. I was oversharing. Constantly. In a chasm of despair and emotion that I really could not find me way out of. Trying to find sense in events that had no reasonable, neat, pleasant explanation.

I look back now and I wonder how ANYONE tolerated me - how the people who stayed weren't completely put off. Weren't they sick of the constant, futile pouring of emotion and tears? Weren't they tired of a regurgitation of events and emotions day after day?

I know. I sound like so much fun. And honestly, I couldn't bear to exist. I really didn't want to.

I felt so alone. Isolated.

The past few days have required me to examine the events that led to 2010 me. I had, some months after this picture was taken, found myself again and had resolved to take charge of myself and my life again instead of staying trapped. Because I truly felt trapped. With nowhere and nobody.

The resolve came about suddenly. And of course, true to human nature, I believed that its arrival meant I was fixed. Not broken.

I was obviously wrong. Many tears followed. But less indiscriminate and not as frequent. Somewhere along the way, I buried the things that I could not make sense of. The things that had hurt me the most.

And I went along my merry way.

However, even if recent conversations hadn't forced me to dig the hurt up and examine and face it, small incidents in the last several months have made me aware that I need to do THE WORK. It is unresolved and it has bobbed up. Close to the surface. And the most random, innocuous conversations have struck deep and I have had phenomenal meltdowns. The hurt still lives and is demanding to be dealt with. It lives because life - as amazing and blessed as it has been since 2010 - hasn't stopped doling out some measure of crap as well.

The events that led to the 2010 me, eventually resulted in the dissolution of certain major relationships. I was heart broken. It's weird when your heart hasn't been broken in a relationship that isn't romantic. There isn't much understanding that anyone else seems to be able to lend you. There isn't much support in lore, and music, and popular culture. It deepens the feeling of isolation. It actually makes you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. You are grieving the loss of someone who still exists. A loss you choose for your own well-being. A loss that is necessary.

Anyway. Back to me on my merry way. Some amazing things happened. And some sad things happened. Life things. Milestones. But I was dealing. I was alright. I was functioning.

And then other relationships dissolved. Not by my own choice. Big ones that I depended on.

Several things happened at that time. I discovered what people say and what they mean can be very different. I lost my trust in words. This is when writing became difficult for me... (until then I could ramble on for days on end). Not only did I begin to mistrust words, I didn't realise it then, but that mistrust became convenient. Writing is when my truths flow out. My hurts were my new truths and I was not ready to face them. I was too scared of what would happen to me when I had to re-examine my life. Too scared to get lost in that fog.

I also began questioning what it was about me that made me so dispensible. I still struggle with that regularly. Every time a person chooses to break things off, I take it hard. And I go over every loss. And I ALWAYS think it is me. I am not saying it is not. I mean hey, if I am the common factor...

I also know that this is life. People come together and part. Misunderstand and walk away instead of communicating. I am not alone in this happening.

But every ending of a significant relationship (obviously of the do or die variety) takes me a step back to 2010 me. 2010 me has not died. She exists within me. She is still wounded. And she refuses to be ignored. This has become obvious to me. And I have postponed giving her the spotlight.

I have been terrified of going into a darkness that almost crippled me before. I don't ever want to be 2010 me again. I was finally gathering courage to revisit her when, as I mentioned, I had no choice but to go back.

It was as terrible as I imagined. As paralysing. I was reliving a highlight reel of the things that have hurt me most and it wasn't pretty. Literally. Because there has been a lot of crying. And I am a disgusting mess of snot and tears (you are welcome) when I cry. I have no delicate subtle ways of doing it. If I could change anything about me, it would be this. How quickly I cry and how disgusting I am when I do it. (It hasn't changed in 37 years, so really, it's a losing battle.)

As I was saying, it has been pretty bad. I was pretty useless for a whole day or so. I had zero appetite. It sounds dramatic and it was. Don't think I don't feel totally ridiculous about it. I do. I am a lot better now. It wasn't easy talking about the stuff I needed to. But as soon as I did, I lost that uncontrolled edginess. The tears stopped lurking on the surface. I don't feel as heavy. And while it is still fresh, I must do the work now. Give the hurt an examination and see where to go with it. How not to let it colour my view of myself. Because it always makes me look inward and find myself wanting and worthless. And honestly, objectively, I have begun to own that I am not THAT bad.

The great thing that has come about other than this very tentative, probably temporary, peace that I feel is that I have a much better highlight reel that I am watching in my head.

You see, I thought I had done all of this on my own.

I hadn't. I don't always remember this, but I am always blessed with the best people around me. Family that isn't always blood. And people came through for 2009-2011 me. In so many countless ways. I remember more and more every second. From close friends who listened to my pain on repeat and who made me DO things, to the people in the periphery who showed me kindnesses I didn't realise at the time, to the girl on my flight who I traumatised by bursting into huge angry sobs and who hugged me and checked on me a couple of days later.

In forgetting the pain I forgot all these lifelines. And I hope those who I may not have communicated my eternal gratitude to have an inkling of what they did. I am me because of the people who carry me. I forget this way too often. But it is also what gets me to try again after every heartbreak.

Also... perhaps... the words are back?