Breaking Point

All of last year, I repeated to myself and those around me, "2019 will be better. 2019 has to be better." There was no way I could have imagined going through a worse year. Even with the good that was sprinkled in, it took a toll.

And, yet. 2019 has been a year of immense loss, pain, depression, anxiety, frustration...

I have tried to stop repeating that a new year will bring better days ahead (I totally still do). I wish it were so easy as to place a made up system on the validity of a time of life. 2019 has been, well. It has been.

I have asked myself with each breath of upsetting news, "When will I break? What will be the moment that sends me crashing to the ground with no sign of recovery?"

And, yet. 2019 has been a year of immense growth, love, determination...

I had a conversation with my therapist recently, and she asked me if I felt like I was improving in my own eyes. What else could I say besides yes? Had I been hit with tornado of bad news a year ago, I honestly don't know that I would have been able to survive.

I have learned to spread my burdens over the last year. I know how to share them with those around me. I understand now that I don't need to take it all on myself and that it's ok to ask for help, as long as I'm not just trying to force it. I am asking permission to share my weight.

Yesterday, I saw a gif of an empath. It was a simple outline of a person which started off full of light. As they came across different people throughout the day, they took on their darknesses, and by the end, the empath was completely filled in with the weight of other people's struggles. At the end, the empath went home and was greeted by their pet, and both the pet and the human were drained of the burdons. The light returned.

That moment when all the bullshit was drained away, that was the strength. That was the ability to hold these moments of chaos and pain. The ability to find a way to release them at the right time without simply passing it on to someone else, even when it's unintentional.

For me, that has been sharing my experiences with others through writing. My intense desire to always be everyone's mother can cause toxic situations, but when I'm sharing my experiences, I feel like I am able to help others while still keeping myself protected.

But still, I ask myself, "When will I break? When does too much become too much?"

l yes. The empath in me felt deeply for the loss of a fur-child. The relationship I had with said fur-baby felt deeply for my own loss. It is ok for me to feel so upset? The answer was mostly yes. The empath in me felt deeply for the loss of a fur-child. The relationship I had with said fur-baby felt deeply for my own loss. It is ok for me to feel so upset because I lost something, too.

I let myself breakdown. It wasn't a breaking point, but I allowed myself to feel. I let myself grieve that I had lost my anxiety buddy that helped me through many loud house parties. I let myself accept that it was ok for me to grieve that loss, and eventually, I drifted to sleep as tears dripped from my cheek.

I have been so afraid to let myself feel the pain from each thing that has happened to me this year, that I've been closing it all off. I process the logical points of it, but I fight the emotional parts. I've been so convinced that the moment I let the "weakness" of an emotional reaction through, I wouldn't be able to support the rest of the weight, and I would break.

The reality of it all is that it's not a weakness at all. It is a strength to be able to grieve. To allow myself to grieve. Without guilt. Without judgement. Even when I let myself spiral into the pain of imagining how painful it must be for the people who were even closer than me to the one who was lost.

I am clearly still working through my process, but I think I'm getting there. The universe hasn't really given me much choice, and it feels like when you're resisting something for so long, and then all of a sudden, you give in, and there is a release. The breath you didn't realize you were holding can suddenly be expelled. You feel a little more free.

I have to let the rain clouds empty the water trapped inside so that they can become light and fluffy again.