Meltdown Magic

A couple of weeks ago I had a meltdown.  Not just a few drips of ice cream down your hand kind of meltdown, but a full-blown sobbing, mascara dripping from my chin meltdown.  Things had just gotten to me.  I was sad for all those people who had gotten ill or lost loved ones from COVID-19 and worried about all those people on the front lines.  I felt guilty that I was able to be home while my sister had to go to work everyday as a director of a long-term care facility.

The thought of my sister getting sick or even potentially losing her was more than my still grieving little heart could take. An extreme thought for sure, but I just couldn’t get it out of mind. She is my person. My Dad was my person. A person only has so many people.

I thought maybe reading a book would help take my mind off of things, and it did for a while, until I got to the end of the book and the narrator went back and listed all the people she had lost in her life and what they had meant to her.

That was it. I was done. Major meltdown until around 3 am when I finally was able to fall asleep. I’m still a bit teary today but that’s mostly just because I’m tired and hormonal – I know you ladies of a certain age feel me on that one.

These are scary times and you are allowed to feel the way you’re feeling, whatever you might be feeling. I know that I’m way too hard on myself for so many things and that I need to be kinder and gentler. I have no problems being that way to other people but I’m not so good at doing it for myself.

I have always had very high expectations of myself and during this pandemic, it’s been a real struggle to try and temper those expectations and acknowledge that maybe I’m not going to be able to do the things I expect I should be doing, in the quantities I believe I am capable of doing.

I will not walk 15 kilometers a day or do 200 squats, although my mind keeps telling me I’m a huge lazy fuck if I don’t. I have indeed been walking and squatting and I should be satisfied with what I’ve done, yet I’m not. There’s a constant push in my head that says, “YOU MUST DO MORE!”

This isn’t a new issue for me. It’s something I’ve dealt with my entire life and it comes directly from me – it’s all internal baby.  My parents never told me I needed to do more, they loved and accepted me for exactly who I was.  I’m the one who told myself that I always needed to do more.  I take full responsibility for my actions.

I’ve written four books and ghostwritten a couple more. I’ve demo’ed my entire basement down to the studs and rebuilt it, almost entirely on my own. I’ve built countless websites, designed shit, learned entire course loads of content in a weekend, you name it, I’ve tried it or taught myself how to do it, yet it still, in my mind, feels like I’ve accomplished very little.

I know this isn’t true but it’s what my head tells me on a constant basis.  It always has.  I’ve done a lot of reading and research (because of course I have right?) on high achievers and I know I’m not the only one out there that feels this way. Some see it as a curse, I see it as a blessing.  Because nine out of ten times, I do achieve those lofty goals that I have set for myself.

I love pushing myself.  I love pushing myself with physical work. I love pushing myself intellectually.  I am constantly learning.  I am constantly creating.  It gives me such an intense sense of joy to finish a project, to look at it and go, “I did that!  You go girl.” I am not lacking in intrinsic motivation.

Which brings me back to my epic meltdown.  For the three weeks prior, I had done nothing of any real consequence, at least not for me.  I had spent the majority of the time sitting on the couch surfing the internet, reading way too many news articles, and spending way too much time on social media. And I understand I needed to do that in that time and space because it was all I could emotionally manage in that moment.

I think we’ve all had trouble trying to dissect what is going on in the world right now. It is downright horrible and tragic and frightening and every adjective in between. We’re worried about our loved ones, how we’re going to pay the bills, and if we’re going to have enough food and essential supplies. It’s a lot.  Our plates are full.

And sometimes, when the plate gets too full, it topples off the table and crashes to the floor, squirting mashed potatoes everywhere.  That was me a few weeks ago.

It took me about two days to work through the mashed potatoes and shit that had exploded and more than a handful of Advil to calm my throbbing cry induced headache. But then a funny thing happened.  I felt relieved. I felt clearer.  I felt that I was going to be able to get through this ordeal and that things were going to be okay. I felt hopeful.  I felt a real sense of calm. I felt like a little bit more like me again.

And then a funnier thing happened.  My creativity exploded.  All the things I’d been stressing about not doing were suddenly getting done. I was writing, I was doing my gardening, I was working on my business, I was planning.  Not because I was forcing myself to do them, but because I wanted to do them.  That was the difference. And it was a huge one.

My meltdown became this magical release.  A cathartic crescendo of letting go of all the pent-up stress and anxiety about the pandemic itself and what I was supposed to be accomplishing during this time. This doesn’t mean that I still don’t worry about my sister getting the virus or my friends or other family members.  I do.  There is always going to be some anxiety when there are so many different variables and no real way to solve for x.

All I can do is get up each day and try and be as kind to myself as I can. If I want to write, I write.  If I want to just sit and listen to music, I do.  I’ve stopped setting time frames of what needs to be done and instead just relied on my own creative flow. If the weather is sunny, my ass is outside in the backyard mucking around in the garden or just sitting listening to the birds and talking to the squirrels and the rabbits – yes I am a squirrel and bunny whisperer but that is a topic for another time.  The only expectations I set for myself each day is to find a little peace in the craziness. A moment to stop give thanks and be grateful for all the loveliness in my life.

I sense when I look back on this time in a few years, I will see it as a period of intense creative growth for me.  I’ve finally committed wholeheartedly to building the life and career I was meant to live. I know in my heart what I have to do and I have begun the business of doing it.

In my life, some of my greatest periods of personal and creative evolution have come in times of incredible uncertainty and sorrow, where I am forced to strip things down to the bare and really take a good hard look at where I’ve been and where I’m heading. This time, I just needed some meltdown magic to help get me there.

There is no right or wrong way to navigate these stormy waters.  There is just your way and my way and his way and her way.  We are all different, we are all unique.  There is no judging.  Just promise yourself kindness and compassion. Extend that kindness and compassion to as many people as you can – of course while you’re practicing social distancing. That’s all you can really do. And if you meltdown, meltdown.  Go ahead, just do it. Embrace it. You’ll feel so much better.

And maybe, just maybe, it will help you find a little bit of your own magic.