Many emotions have filtered in and out of my brain over the past few weeks in June. Writing wasn’t an outlet I could or wanted to partake in.
I had a major breakdown that I didn’t tell anyone about accept my therapist. Keeping it a secret isn’t intentional or my goal. Talking about it requires too much energy and reminiscing that I don’t care to explore.
The root of that specific breakdown was miscommunication.
I don’t feel heard by the people closest to me. My loved ones aren’t intentionally misunderstanding; these are tough times, people are stressed, we are all grieving what we’ve lost and miss, etc. I’m very empathetic and understanding and try not to take it personally.
HOWEVER. There comes a time where I need that empathy and understanding reciprocated. And I shouldn’t have to show that I need it by having a mental breakdown.
Staying home has also become a pressure cooker for the grief I’ve shouldered, as well as for my husband. We are a couple, but we are also two separate individuals with separate coping mechanisms (or lack thereof).
Our grief is still new and fresh, and I’m STILL learning what that grief looks like for myself and for my husband.
This insatiable need to be a productive member of society has shadowed my real priorities as well, which should be taking care of my family first and my own health.
I am not working right now. This is very strange for me; its drilled into my brain that I don’t have value if I’m not working outside the home. This is a societal norm that’s been pushed on me, and not truly how I feel about my worth.
But grief has forced me to slow down and reevaluate my priorities. The pandemic on the other hand has officially slowed me down to a complete stop, like I’ve never felt in my life.
So what I’m getting at is that there are numerous battles dooking it out in my head.
I’m 33 years old and I’m still trying to figure out “what I want to do for the rest of my life” shpeal that you hear in high school.
I’ve learned from watching my mother as a child that time is the most valuable commodity that CANNOT be replaced.
I’m learning to be okay with not working, especially for reasons that are completely out of my control.
I’m learning what my grief looks like and how it looks from my husband’s perspective. Allowing him grace and as much time as he needs to heal. The same goes for myself.
I’m learning to separate societal “norms” and expectations from my own, and discovering what I really want out of this life.
And I’m learning that I don’t owe anyone an explanation for the things that I do, for the choices I’ve made.
Join me on my path back to hope if you like, but I might just take a hiatus from journaling my thoughts. Its emotionally exhausting up in here.