So, you freak out sometimes.
Yeah, me too.
It’s not crazy. Not at all. No, it’s just this thing that happens. It’s a thing that comes from inside which is something that I have or maybe we have. Maybe everyone has it and in reality, we all freak out sometimes.
Maybe, this is all just a momentary lapse of hysteria and it’s nothing more than that.
At least not really.
Maybe there’s a limit to what we can take or maybe there’s a wall that everybody hits – or maybe it’s just a breaking point and they call it this for a reason. They call it this because you break. You shatter. And here it is, a touch of honesty because what I am about to share is something I have rarely spoken about and almost never written about. But, in the interest of honesty and disclosure, I have to admit that my breaking point has sound. It has depth. It has dirt and grit and a substance which, to me, there are the massed collection of vivid thoughts and angry fascinations. There is sound and the unfortunate scenes, which play out in my head.
I would hit the wall so-to-speak. This was due to anger. This was due to constant discomfort and frustration; in which case, there were times when the rage that evolved from fear would be insurmountable.
And please, for the record, the fact that I share honestly is only due to the fact that I can do this here, with you. Since it’s just the two of us, I’d rather be honest.
I can say that in my younger frustrations, I would hear the sound of breaking glass. This was followed by uncomfortable visions of violence or painful sights of self-harm. Again, I say this with all humility. I could hear the sound of glass shattering, as if a ball broke through a plate glass window – and then I would hear the cold sound of the glass particles tinkling in the background.
Now, I am not saying that this freak out matches yours or anyone else’s. However, I can testify that I understand and can help explain why bullied people eventually respond through incredible acts of violence. I am not saying this is me (anymore) or that there’s cause for concern; however, there is a need for understanding.
I’m not crazy though (and neither are you).
No, this is just a report from my past; however, and more importantly, this is what would happen when I would hit my breaking point.
This is what happened after years of ridicule. This is what happened after years of reliving moments of verbal abuse through bullying or through my association with rejective thinking and regretful ideas. There is an association with family trauma. There is an association with social trauma and, of course, there is a struggle involved with school, education and learning struggles as well as communication difficulties which are in my wheelhouse and explain my inventory.
This is what happens with a personality association that links me to shame, blame, guilt and fault. And more, this is what happened when my social awkwardness, depression and anxiety reached a point of no return.
And here it is: The thing about living uncomfortably is that it’s uncomfortable. We are not born to live this way. We are not born to live at risk or in fear. We are not born to run in the red, so-to-speak; and what I mean is, an engine cannot run at full-throttle at all times – because when it does, it’ll blow.
Well?
In association with this, we are an engine all to ourselves and sometimes, we break down.
Sometimes we crash. Sometimes we hit a wall or we blow a gasket.
This is something that happens, even to the best of us.
I have this thing and I say it’s a thing because what I have is more than something that can be simplified by a diagnosis or a label – yet, I know this full and well. And more, I know that what I have is, in fact, a simple thing.
This is not crazy. It’s not hysterical. No, this is something people live with.
This is something that comes up with me every now and again and when it does, there is an eruption that takes place.
Or, maybe it’s a meltdown. Maybe I blow a gasket or maybe I hit a wall or the so-called breaking point.
Maybe this happens to you as well, no?
Maybe this is what happens when your legs carry you as far as they can go but the body needs rest and your limbs just can’t take it anymore – and neither can your mind because you can run but you can’t hide. Maybe the breaking point is a moment of realization which is just a scream that says: I can’t fucking take it anymore!
By the way, I hate the words nervous breakdown. I hate them more than I hate the words emotionally disturbed or emotional breakdowns.
But sometimes, goddammit, you freak out.
Sometimes, you lose your shit.
You lose to the emotional claustrophobia and then, the next thing you know, you lose control.
Fuck it!
You yell; you want to punch the wall. You want to hit someone or hit something – or maybe you want to hit yourself for letting yourself get carried away.
You wish you could hit a button and then you wouldn’t care anymore – the emotion would vanish and you wouldn’t feel anything.
But at the moment, there is nothing that can solve the predicament.
There is no calming down. There is nothing that can slow the fall and as you roll down the spiral, you lose yourself to an insane momentum.
Or maybe my fits lead me to thoughts of revenge or violence and someone else’s causes them to implode or turn inwards.
It’s not crazy.
No, if anything – it’s only human.
You’re not meant to be at full-speed all the time.
We are not meant to be at high stages of anxiety. If we are, we lose our better sense of thinking.
We lose to inaccurate versions of red-alert thinking.
It’s only a moment which will pass.
Just give it a minute. Give it a second.
Give it some time. Or better yet . . .
Give yourself a break.
Sure, I guess we’ll just do that, right?
We’ll stop in mid-freak-out and calm down.
Sure, why not?
I have this thing which I have had throughout my entire life.
I have had this ever since I was very small. I have had this since my first memories began, which is not a call for pity or sympathy nor is this an association with mental illness but instead – this is a submission that makes me human.
This is not a claim for leniency as if to call myself less-able or “special” nor is this a reflection of my weakness.
No, this is not me admitting to being weak. Not at all.
In fact, this is the strongest I have ever been because this is me exposing the shade of my personal darkness.
This is me getting rid of my lies to be abolished by the light of truth.
No . . . This is not weak.
I know where I am weak. I am weak when it comes to my fears. I am weak when it comes to the worries of being alone or loveless. I am weak when it comes to worrying if I will ever find the right fit for me. When it comes to considering who I am or when it comes to considering why my path has led me to where I am; or when I think about why I’ve struggled for so long; or when it comes to my interpersonal connections; I am weak because of the way I associate with rejection or rejective thinking. I am weak when this leads me back to fears of inadequacy or doubt.
And doubt is a bitch. Remember?
It’s fine. No, really.
It is.
I say that it’s fine because I have grown. I have moved on. I have improved and there are times when I am cured – yet, I say this with the occasions of relapse because, in truth, there are times when I am far from cured. There are times when I am far from okay. Do you know what that makes me?
It makes me human.
That’s all.
So, you freak out sometimes, huh?
Yeah . . .
Me too.
It’s not crazy though.
Not at all.
This just means we can’t live our life on high alert.
This means we can’t live our lives in rearview thinking or constantly worry about what happened or wonder the tragic “what if’s” all the time.
But like I said.
This is why I have these journals.
This is why I have this little workshop that I’ve built in my head.
This is why I have you – to keep me loyal to the one most irrefutable and undeniable fact.
We’re only human. We’re an engine.
We are a unique machine and system of circuits and memories, ideas, hopes, feelings and emotions.
That is all.
I know it’s hard sometimes . . .
But every now and again, we freak out.
All we can do is get back up and if we can, we have to take our foot off of the gas pedal.
So we can rest.
Otherwise, we’ll crash and burn which is fine because this is human too,
But let’s try to limit the crashing – the rebuilds and the aftermaths can be expensive.
Know what I mean?
The Written Addiction 