Something I alluded to in my previous post was that 2015 was a rough year for me. My pride would like to prevent me from even typing that out, let alone typing it out on the internet for everyone and anyone to see, but whatever. I have a blog and some parts of my life may be aspirational, but much of it is very real and mundane. I think I’m probably not alone in that.
2015 was a year of big change for me. I started a new job towards the end of 2014, so I was still getting a handle on that, we bought a house and completely renovated (are still renovating) the entire thing, consequently were sort of “homeless”, and changed jobs. Throw in a new city and I could hardly keep my head above water.
I didn’t miss NYC as much as I missed my friends and the firm ground my feet stood on in relation to my career. NYC was so easy, and here? I was busting my ass and getting nowhere. Worse than nowhere, I was throwing up every day before work and afraid to go in. You guys, if you have ever had a job that you just couldn’t do, I want you to know that you are very much not alone. It can happen to anyone and it isn’t okay. It isn’t okay when you follow protocol and ask for help and none is given. It isn’t okay when you are bullied in the workplace. It isn’t okay when you throw up before work everyday. None of this is okay.
In the middle of that, we were renovating a house against a deadline and shocker, the house wasn’t ready and our lease was up. It was Murphy’s Law in action. If it could go wrong, it did go wrong. And during this entire thing when someone would ask me why I wasn’t blogging I would die a little inside and go home and cry. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to blog, I just literally couldn’t. I didn’t have the mental capacity to hardly get out of bed everyday let alone create content.
Two jobs. Moving four times. Renovating a house. I don’t know how or why I thought I could keep up but in October it happened. I had a breakdown. A very serious breakdown and I thought I needed to be institutionalized. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know how to think. Everything that I had bottled up in the previous year broke me.
And I sat on the floor in my bedroom sobbing because what the fuck was my life? What had I done to deserve this? Who had I wronged? Was this my comeuppance for everything that I had ever done? When I realized that yeah, maybe I got super screwed over but I needed to take control back. To control how I react to things. How I let things in. Who matters and who doesn’t. Who gets my energy.
That’s where this journey begins.
(Congratulations if you’ve read this entire post, that was a long one and I appreciate you!)