Why Can’t Meltdowns Come with Warning Labels?

Happy May followers! I totally forget if there’s 14 or 15 of you, but yay!

I sort of had a mini-meltdown last night. It was totally out of the fucking blue, too. One minute, I am sitting there, trying to figure out ways to cook and eat butternut squash, and the next, I am fucking sobbing.

The whole situation with my old friend came tumbling down on me. But, instead of seeing it in the “I’m great and he’s a fucking douche canoe” light, I saw it in this sort of omnipresent fashion. It’s interesting how everything becomes so much clearer when you get outside yourself.

The out of body experience didn’t scare me much, because I’ve managed that in my meditation practice. For the record, it still fucking freaks me out a little that I can essentially “step out of my skin” without actually stepping out of it. I’ve always wondered if it’s natural to feel weird when doing that. Because yeah… it’s weird.

Anyway, back to the meltdown. It was strange to look back at the situation and go, “What the fuck, Kels.”

Maybe we always want to be in our corner, because you know, at least you can trust yourself to always be there. Sometimes, though, I think you have to look at yourself and go, “You know what? I fucked things up, too.” That’s what I finally did last night.

Codependency, feelings of inadequacy, and distrust. I was codependent in the sense that I thought that if I was always present, he couldn’t forget about me and leave me. The feelings of inadequacy stemmed from the fact that I didn’t think I was enough to keep him around.

I always thought he was judging me for not being enough, not to mention that I felt my opinion didn’t matter. Why? Because when I would ask to talk, it was typically met with a really harsh no. It was like he thought I would “force” him, when in reality, I just wanted to feel like my opinion was worth more than jack squat.

The distrust? Well, I didn’t trust him to stay, and always expected him to find any reason to get rid of me. In fact, I didn’t tell him these things because I always thought he would get rid of me for them. Also, he has developed this tendency to bash people when they aren’t around to defend themselves. It often made me wonder what he said about me when I wasn’t around.

So what caused the breakdown? Coming to this understanding, the clarity that if both of us weren’t such stubborn assholes and actually talked to each other, maybe we would have been able to figure out how to navigate our friendship. Instead, we made assumptions about each other and dismantled.

The good thing is that I know I have now learned something from this. I can take this lesson and learn not to be an asshole, because I see myself as a dynamic being rather than a fixed fuck-up capable of only continuing the fuck-uppery.

Also, I realized I felt bad for telling him he was abusive. Sure, the silent treatment is abuse, but I didn’t call him abusive to enlighten him to the fact that his behavior needs to be considered. The reason I chose “abuse” was because I wanted to hurt him for essentially telling me he never cared. To me, calling him “abusive” was the equivalent of him telling me he never cared. I guess I’m saying that we were both pretty fucking dysfunctional, even though we totally didn’t have to be.

Sometimes, I think I write here because I hope that maybe by gaining insight on myself, I may help someone gain insight on himself, herself, or whatever form of “self” the individual chooses to be.

Since I have yet another 4 A.M. shift tomorrow, I have to cut this off, here. I can’t wait until I get to my three days off… Yeah… in a row. It’s going to be fucking beautiful. Until then, keep it real, homies.

God, did I just call you all homies? Seriously… send help, ha ha!



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s