Slippery Slope

Hola, my 4’s of followers.  Coming here to do what I do best.  Just kinda rant and mull about.  My bi yearly accountability post.

I have to admit the last 9 months have been a total shit show.  I mean one major tragedy after another.  (Luckily, no deaths *knock on wood* but bad shit) I would be remiss to even visit one aspect of what has happened.  It is all deeply personal and frankly, I’ve cried enough over the last SEVERAL months to last me a lifetime.

And, I didn’t come here to explain what happened.  I came here to say what I did about it.

I told myself to shut the hell up and fix it.  Not fix them.  Fix it.  “It” being me.

I became a whiny, bitching, sad sack of a woman.  I really did.  It was ugly.  I was just ill prepared for the feces tornado that entered my life and hung out for oh…

9 months.

As soon as I felt I had a grip on one thing, another thing.  Then when I tried to deal with both things, another thing.  And then when I was starting to feel beat down, two more things came.  And it was slowly wearing me down.  Like river rocks.  The water of life was rapidly turning me from a 50 pound rock into a 2 oz pebble.

And I knew it and I couldn’t stop it.  Too many things kept coming.  I lost myself totally.  I knew it was happening.  I warned everyone I was close to, “I’m not doing well.” I said it over and over.  “I’m REALLY not doing well.”  Until I would wake up in the morning with the most crippling anxiety.  Trying to breathe, hyperventilating, choking for air within 30 seconds of waking.

Every morning.

My shit was busted. I was broken. It was like watching myself from above, but not in that cool way people do in near death situations, more like me watching from the corner of a room arms crossed, disgusted with what I was watching myself turn into.  And I had no idea how to stop it.  I think the anxiety attacks every morning came from the crippling fear that a new day brought a new bad thing.  And I just couldn’t take anymore.

So I broke.  It wasn’t pretty.  It was mildly justified, but either way I broke.  Again, details are not the point, and frankly I’m not very proud.  So moving along.

After I broke though… (And I use the term “Broke” in the sense of I flipped my every loving shit. Not a mental break per se) But after I broke, I could breathe.  Little by little, day by day, I could breathe a bit more.  Then I felt guilty for losing my shit, and it started to creep back.  But I stopped it.  I stopped letting things happen to me and decided to steer this boat myself.  Fuck feeling like everything is happening and I have no control over any of it.  I felt that way for so long, it was such a weird spiral to go through, to watch myself go through.  Not again.  Fuck that.

So I made my amends for my shit losing and was not forgiven.  And while that sucks, it is going to have to be ok.  I hope one day amends can be made.  Until then though, I’ve got to keep moving.  I have to stay busy, be productive, read, do yoga, walk, work, anything.

*Note – I read the first book I read in a year on Sunday.  It was the best day.  I put my phone away and read the entire damned thing in one day.  It was awesome.  And was part of the beginning of me steering myself back onto course.

I think a lot of things compiled on me and I was so blindsided by each thing, and gobsmacked at the audacity of the Universe to throw every possible thing my way, one after the other, sometimes in two’s like on Noah’s Ark.  And truth be told, it could have been worse.  People have gone through worse.

But for me, they were all tragedies.  And I didn’t handle it well at all.  I am part to blame for that.  But I am also not part to blame for that.  I’m calling it Sarah 10% – Universe of Crappy situations 90%.  But as they kept coming the percentage of that would change.  Every time, it became more an issue that I wasn’t handling things well until at the end of the day, I was not handling one thing properly.  Not one damned thing.  I was slapping a smile on my face and doing the things that had to be done.  It was ugly.

Yesterday I almost slipped back into old habits.  Something upset me and I felt the anger and the resentment rise up in me like the worst thing that’s happened in 9 months happened 5 minutes ago.  And I stopped.  I recognized it.  I meditated. And I heard the best quote. ”

“Feeling the anger won’t hurt you or anyone else.”  I forgot anger was a feeling and not the 8lb Gremlin that lived in my soul. I felt like anger was something I had to fight, something that was eating me alive.  And it was.  Until I remembered, it is just a feeling.  And it’s ok to have those.  Just identify it, breathe through it, try and deal with it the best you can, then do your best to move past it.

But, I’m here on day 8 of not waking up feeling like Satan himself has his wretched hands around my throat trying to kill me dead. I feel a little better (myself) every day.

I will always be a work in progress but this last little bit about did me in.  Not in a morbid way, but in a mental way.  I wasn’t ok.  But I will be.

And that is all that matters.

As Always,

Woman on Pause