Meltdowns suck, but you already know that if you read yesterday’s post. It’s a part of my life that I could live without, but it is also a part of what makes me what I am. Therefore, I needed to find some way of living in balance with my meltdowns. I wanted to stop fearing them as much as I did.
In the past, when they happened, I would hide myself away. I knew the signs, I could feel it building inside of me. I would run away like a skittish, little animal seeking shelter before the storm. Every day I was out there, in the real world amongst real people, I was constantly afraid something would go wrong, and I would have a meltdown. The fear was far worse than the meltdown in itself.
When it was over, and I was ready, I would re-join the others and pretend that I’d gone for a smoke or something like that. I really believe no one ever knew. I had my mask up like a pro. I was a pro, in fact, because every day of my life I wore a mask of normalcy. Every so often it would falter, something would slip out between the cracks, but no one would notice. Not really. Most people see what they expect to see, so they don’t notice the cracks until it’s too late.
After my burnout, the meltdowns I had were off the scale and I felt it in my body for months and months. Perhaps it was exactly because it became such an everyday feeling that I realised I had to accept it as a part of my life. Perhaps it would have happened anyway. What I do know is that I finally understood that my meltdowns would always be a part of my life, it was something I was unable to change or suppress.
I can’t change how I was born, and I really don’t want to change all of me. I like me. I want to live a life of happiness, love and passion, just like other people do. Some things we can’t change, other things we can change. I am not the first, nor the last, to realise very late in life the simple truth that it takes hard work on oneself to understand what we can and cannot change about ourselves. Because, the thing is, I am changing. I want to change, because what I have been doing before never helped me become happy. I want to change into someone who can be happy. Letting go of the struggle of changing what cannot be changed was the first step towards a happier life.
What does this mean for my way of handling meltdowns, you ask? Well, it’s simple, my dear friend. I tried to fight it, it failed. I tried to hide it, it failed. Now, I’m letting it happen. Surprisingly, that actually works for me.
I try not to fight it or control it but let it happen. I feel everything and accept it. Of course, this probably won’t work for everyone. It might just work for some. Maybe you are reading this thinking I’m silly for not having realised such an obvious thing before I was 30. In any case, I am still happy I found my way of handling it. Acceptance helped me take responsibility for myself and my meltdowns, thus I was able to find the best way for me to deal with it. We all have to find our way of dealing with the things we don’t particularly like about ourselves, I guess.
Okay, so maybe the attacks don’t get better, and I can still be in bed for days after, but I feel better. The fear, the shame and the anger are shadows of the emotions they used to be. In time, I hope they will barely accompany my meltdowns at all.
I still get embarrassed once in a while, but I’m working on it.
I try not to blame myself, or be upset with myself, when my body is weak after the meltdowns. I’ll probably have to go back to bed several times during those days and hide under the covers until I feel better. I am too tired to do anything, and my head is foggy, and eating is a battle during those days. I feel completely spent and weep on and off while shaking all day.
It’s okay. It’s not fun, but I’m okay. I have bad days. I have good days.
If I am ever going to really enjoy my good days, I must let my bad days happen too. Otherwise, I end up spending all my good days worrying and hating my bad days. That is the most obvious way to ruin all of my days.
