I’ve had a total of two mental breakdowns in simply the past two weeks.
The first one shake me up a bit; I was on my route to work, and for some unexplained reason I started balling my eyes out. It was almost as if the floodgates to my emotions opened up, and everything I had been suppressing for so long merely devoted way.
Tack on the fact that all of the street within a mile radius of my work were blocked off, entailing I had to trek to work in uncomfortable shoes and a blotchy face, let’s merely chalk it up to it being a pretty crappy day.
After that though, I progressively felt like I was starting to feel better. Over the course of the next week, I had a lighter stance, and I maintained telling myself that maybe a good shout was all I needed. Well, fast forward about a week or so to me in a bathroom stall at school personally attaining my route through an entire roll of toilet paper, soaking up the tears that were so rudely falling down my face.
I felt like it was a scene straight out of a Lifetime movie. Girl is bullied by a group of mean adolescents. Girl doesn’t know what to do or where to go, so girl hides in a bathroom stalling crying. But in this case the working group on teenagers were my feelings and the girl was me.
Other than the obvious fact that there were feelings I had yet to deal with that were making their route to the surface, the feelings I had immediately after I had stopped crying truly frustrated me.
I felt ashamed, and I felt alone.
The shame came from the fact that I have a great life. I have a spouse who loves me, a family who is always there for me, and a chore that pays the bills, so I immediately felt like I had no right to be sad.
And the loneliness came from the fact that I was frightened. I was scared to tell someone how I was feeling and what had happened. I was scared to tell my husband and my family and my friends that something inside me was upsetting me so much that I had to literally leave my class and hide in a bathroom stall because I couldn’t stop my emotions from surfacing.
But why? What attains person innately believes this style?
Being sad is a natural feeling, so how can anyone feel ashamed because of it? And more importantly, how can person feel scared to tell a loved one how they’re feeling?
When I was little, I distinctly remember being told to talk about my feelings. The phrase “Use your words, ” was something my mothers would say to me and my siblings regularly. And it induces sense! How is anybody supposed to know how we’re feeling if we don’t speak up?
But over day that notion has changed. You’re merely supposed to talk about your feelings if they’re good feelings, and if you’re sad you should keep it to yourself.
This is something that needs to change though. Dealing with these bouts of sadness and anxiety and depression alone did me no good. I would push people away, and I would function in my own closed-off world- partly because I was ashamed and partly because I didn’t know what to do because nobody talks about it.
Nobody talks about depression, and rarely anyone talks about being sad. It’s taboo; it’s stigmatized, and it makes you look weak. And this is so backwards. We need to normalize these impressions and open the door for these kinds of discussions.
I felt alone and ashamed about a feeling that is completely common and completely normal. We can’t keep letting this happen.
It wasn’t until I talked to my family about how I was feeling that I started to feel better. I have a route to go before the intensity of my emotional state lessons, and I know that just like anyone else I will have moments of sadness for the rest of my life, but I no longer feel alone. And I no longer feel ashamed. And my hope is that anyone who ever feelings or has felt the same style I did , no longer believes this way either.
It’s okay to not be okay.
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