It's been a complicated a couple of weeks.
I've had two pretty serious meltdowns. The first resulted in not so favorable circumstances, although I did get 13 hours of sleep.
The second resulted in exactly what I needed.
I've not been paying attention to what I need. I've been staying at work when I should be shutting down and going to yoga. I've been spending Sundays in front of the computer working on plans, budgets or communications.
I have in no way, shape or form been respecting who or what I am.
Add to that the fact that my family has been a basic shit and GoodBuddy shut me down because he couldn't handle admitting to me he'd found a new girlfriend.
In the midst of being constantly barraged by work, no rest and no support from the people I'd relied on to be my support and validation, I had a meltdown. Which resulted in me experiencing life in the emergency room and the psych ward.
Which would have been bad enough. But I kept being barraged by CBL (what part of I can't answer the phone because I'm in the hospital do you not understand?), kept being avoided by GoodBuddy and suffered unrelenting defensiveness and resistance from the parental units. Add one plus one plus one and you equal second nervous breakdown.
Luckily, this time was different. I was able to call on a friend who was nearby and accessible. Who not only could but was interested in making the journey to assist me. (Not to dismiss my other friends who stepped in during my first crisis. But there REALLY are time and distance obsticals.) Instead of being judged by a cold, distant triage bitch, I got held and comforted by a true friend. Instead of spending the night under an itchy, thin hospital blanket, I was held by someone who listened without judgement and fell asleep holding my hand.
More than that, we got to hang out the whole next day. No, it was not slam bang thank you ma'am, as nothing at all sexual happened. As if I was in any condition to deal with that. But I was made to feel no guilt or shame for the emotional firestorm of the meltdown. It was what it was, it was real and, hey, if there are still tears, let them come.
I have lots of thinking to do. I have lots of work I have to do to repair the damage I and others have done to my soul. I need to re-evaluate the role others have in my life and the expectations and hopes I have for them. And how I react if and/or when my personal projections are different than reality.
What I've realized more than anything is that I owe myself the respect of honoring myself. Whether that means taking a yoga class or admitting I need to work from home more than one day a week, or taking more walks around my island, has yet to be seen. But I know I need to disconnect and spend some more time teasing out the tangle of my thoughts and my feelings.
I don't want to run away. I don't want to disengage. I don't want to pretend that I have deep thoughts, a healthy perspective, or an introspective understanding. I want to live that truth. I've got a long way to go. But it's not an impossible path. Just one that takes commitment and belief.