Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Darkest Hour

I didn't see it coming. I went to bed like I do every night. In fact, K was sleeping longer than normal and soundly. At 12am he woke up and because I thought it'd be easy to get him back to sleep (I have a few regular things I do), I was just gonna go in and 1,2,3 him back to sleep. But he didn't go back to sleep. So I gave him a bottle (it was already prepared, so I could just offer it and he'd roll over when done and go back to sleep with little crying). Then he kept crying. Louder and louder. And I went to give him another bottle because I didn't really know what else to do. He finished that and kept crying! And honestly, there's something in that wail that when it gets into my brain, I lose all hope, perspective, and skills for problem solving.
And I lost it. Like crazy lost it. Like only a few times in therapy have I ever lost it like that. But once it started I couldn't stop it.
It wasn't even about K after a while. It was about everything. All the stuff that I had been letting me get stressed out. It was all waiting for an opening and a few tears into it, it all came tumbling out. And furiously fast. I didn't recognize myself. I couldn't bring myself back. I was making the third bottle (the only barely sane activity I could do at the time) when the papa came down (it was his night to get sleep) to catch me before I fell all the way apart. Thank goodness for the papa.
I was shuttled off to bed to breathe and try to calm down while papa calmed K. And then he came back to calm me. I couldn't even sleep for the next hour because I was so consumed with shame, anger, frustration, sleeplessness, overwhelm, hopelessness, etc.
No one told me about this. Hell, I couldn't even have told myself about this. I've never been to this place before...in fact, I didn't know this place existed. I've endured some dark stuff. Nothing too crazy, but damn, this wasn't like that at all. At least, not that I remember. Maybe a few summers after my dad died I felt like I was being pushed underwater by an unknown force, but this felt like I tied on cement blocks...
And then after some time to calm down, some loves from papa, and my mind being able to run its crazy course, I slept. It wasn't a magical sleep, but in that sleep I found some light. And that light brought me back to the morning. And I was able to talk about the night like it happened to someone else...and I wanted to help that "someone else" and get her some professional help.
I wanted to put it in writing that I came back. That I survived. That I got help. It may not help me next time either...I'm prepared for that, but in case it helps someone else, I want it to be here. Even when it feels like no one is around, someone always has your back.


  1. Hugs! Sometimes for me the worst thing is holding it all in. And when the dam finally breaks it's exhausting and overwhelming and hard, but as I acknowledge everything I'm feeling, it somehow all becomes more manageable. And after a giant good cry and a good sleep, I feel much refreshed and ready to try again, whatever it is I'm trying. Is letting go related to letting it out? Maybe?

    1. It's funny. Even two weeks later, I am feeling pretty inadequate in learning how to let go and let it out without creating the hurricane in my mind. When I don't get emotional exercise, I'm pretty horrible to talk with. All I know is I better figure it out because it looks like it could get worse before it gets better.

  2. Thank you for telling the truth.



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