When I first read this question, I cried.
And the reason I cried is because my best memory is also my worst: caring for a loved one to the end of her life. It is such a profound trauma, but also a profound privilege, to be able to do it.
Despite it’s bittersweetness,it is an experience and privilege that won’t ever leave me. And also, will not ever regret.
I have about 23 at last count…
I have 8 laparoscopy scars, a central IV line scar, 3 c-section scars, a large drain scar. Those are boring and surgical.
I have a chicken pox scar in the middle of my nose. It’s very noticeable. I have another one under my left ear.
I have a scar on my left thigh where I cut my leg on a dog food tin when I was 10. It was quite deep.
I have a scar on my right knee from Brutus biting me when I was 2. He disappeared after that.
I have way too many to count, because, well, I am accident prone and also in need of surgeries. I win at any Jaws-style comparison :D
A black one. Because some people are like “OHHHH BLACK JELLYBEANS ARE AWESOME AND I LOVE THEM AND I GET THEM” and others are “BLACK JELLYBEANS ARE THE WORK OF THE DEVIL’S RECTUM AND SHOULD BE OUTLAWED”.
I polarise.
So I would be a black jellybean.
I think I have reached that thing they call a “nervous breakdown”. I have heard of these things before… it was something that was whispered between family members about that neighbour who went away, or about that work colleague that took a lot of time off. I never really knew what it meant… I mean, it’s not the clinical name, that’s for sure.
I know now that it’s a colloquialism or a euphemism for depression or a psychotic episode. Wikipedia totally told me that.
But, that’s not how I feel. I’ve dealt with depression before. It’s chemical. I wouldn’t say I am plunging into a depression, per se… nor would I say that I was having any sort of Psychotic break or panic attack. This really is just… my body shutting down after unrelenting, unnatural, external pressure. Yes, it’s depression technically, but it is 100% external.
I’m just… completely and utterly defeated by my life. Not in a way that I would do anything silly like hurt myself, or not in a way that is dramatic in any way. I am just… defeated. Worn out. Done even trying to be optimistic about things because every time I think that things are getting better, they just end up getting a whole lot worse, and I just have nothing left.
Part of it is physiological – I have been surviving on stress hormones and putting my adrenals into overdrive for 2 years straight. They were already broken… and then, END ON END, I had:
Last Friday afternoon, after 3 years of surviving, I split into a million little pieces. I split into a million little pieces and for the first time ever… even when I have nearly died, been sexually assaulted, been screamed at, been abused, all my life been witness to horrors & experienced things that one person should not… this time, I can’t seem to be able to put myself back together. I mean, I have to just pick up and move on, but, my head is just not in a good place right now. And my body has completely shut down.
I am an optimist. An unfailing one, to the point where I see the best in people even when they are trying to take advantage of me. Hell, I managed to find the funny side of cancer. When all of these things struck, I tried to see an upside. I made jokes, I said “hang in there”, I gave myself daily pep talks that no one person could have constant bad luck and that eventually it would change. I just got on with it, did the best I could, and… to quote Dory… just kept swimming.
My whole life, I’d keep swimming. Then I’d get tired and just be treading water. And then, out of nowhere, an arsehole on a jetski would come and run me over and I would have to start all over again. And now, I feel I just can’t be arsed even treading water anymore, because I have suddenly realised…
This is it.
I am not born of good fortune. I am not one of the “lucky” people, with parents and resources and good health. I am just meant to work my guts out. For the rest of my life. For nothing. I now realise that life is just one disappointment after the other and… for an idealist (INFP) like me… the worst possible thing to happen is for us to get jaded.
And boy, am I jaded.
So yes, I am having a breakdown. It may not look like it, because I have no choice but to continue working ridiculous hours for no money so that I have a roof over my head. but, rest assured, I am simmering under the surface. I cry a lot. I am locking myself away a lot. I am not taking very good care of myself. I am emotionally and physically very, very fragile and I am not quite sure of anything right now. I really just want to lay in my bed for a month and let the world pass.
But, I can’t. Because if I don’t get this week’s work done, I can’t pay my rent. My finances are down to the bone and I am literally hanging on, waiting for the next invoice at the moment. I have zero resources. No line of credit, nothing. I am literally starting from scratch.
But, I work harder than anyone else I know.
I work hard all the time. Non stop. For what feels like nothing most of the time. And I am broken. More broken than I think I have ever, ever been. And I’ll be honest, I am not quite sure how I am going to get back. There are some good things in my life, like my friends, my children and my current relationship, but right now, I need some time. I am having trouble coping with everyday stresses and I just need people, particularly clients or those that need something from me, to just back the fuck off. Because I really am worried about myself right now. I can’t be anyone else’s emotional prop. I am not used to having no control, being 100% subjected to external stressors all the time. It’s just not fair, but somehow I need to find a way to pull it together.
So, if I was able to articulate what I need… I just need hugs. And for people to be more understanding of the fact that I am working ridiculously long days and if I don’t get your shit done, it’s because I need money for RENT. Like, right now. So if I don’t reply to your email or phone call… that’s why. I just need to be left alone, to earn some money to take the stress off… to regroup, to see the people I *want* to see and to just try and get myself together… even if it is just with glue for the time being.
I am not OK. Not right now, I am not OK. But, I will be, if I can just have some time to reduce my stress, simplify my life and try to find some peace with everything I have been through. I am 31 years old and have been through just about everything anyone can in that time. And I have finally cracked. But, I am trying my very best and all I ask is that I allowed to be the one that needs something from others. For once.
What a bizarre fucking week. In fact, I think it might be up there in the “weird week” stakes with that week in April that we don’t talk about because I want to not cry. But in a different weird kind of way. I have a bit of an out-of-body thing going on, particularly with my Twitter account, this whole notion of personal branding vs “being yourself” vs being “professional” vs my identity etc… and it’s really just been weird.
I am feeling a little raw and exposed about it, to be honest. My online “persona” has collided with me as a person… and I don’t know where that shift suddenly occurred, but I am finding that less and less people get what I am doing. More people seem to think that I am actually like this “tealou” person, and it’s almost become an expectation… like I am some circus monkey that has to lay on the filth or something. Heck, some people even call me tealou, even when I say not to. It feels bizarre, because it has gotten away from me and I don’t know how to switch it off.
I am not sure if it’s either a case of severely missing the mark, the demographics of Twitter changing (and thus resulting in less… errr… intelligent people), or because I now have a personal stake in the reaction because a lot of my Twitter followers are also my friends. Because then I go through this thought process… that I met them through this channel, which means there is this expectation of someone more… boisterous… our foul-mouthed… or emotionally needy… or flirty… or whatever. And I find myself playing this part, because people seem to like it… and then it gets me in trouble and does actual damage, hurts someone, and I go “SHIT! This is all just a joke that got out if hand!”
It may surprise you to read that I am actually very quiet 98% of the time. I am socially awkward. I would prefer to read a book over watching TV. I would prefer to watch TV than have sex… I would give my last dollar to anyone who needed it more than me and I actually avoid confrontation and backdown from bullies more times than I should. In many ways the “real me” is quite… opposite… to the “tealou” me… but as we move on, I find myself feeling pressured to be the funny one, or the crude one, or the one who says things to provoke… rather than being the multi-faceted me.
For the @tealou persona? It’s not a misrepresentation, per se, of who I am. It’s more of an id version of me… using the challenge of 140 characters to say what you are thinking, or to make a joke, or whatever. I have a strength with the written word and Twitter is great for that.
But, I dunno, things have gotten weird. Maybe it’s because of my new status as a “single” woman, that people are now reading everything I say like I am somehow desperate to find a man or something. It’s actually quite the opposite and I am so not interested in anything like that… I just want to be alone. But I dunno, something changed. I was reading a brochure about divorce and how your friendships can change when people perceive you to be “after their husbands”, whether it is the case or not. Maybe there’s a little of that… where… what used to be safe & funny to say as a married woman…. vs…. what’s safe & fun to say now that I am single… that on some level I need to accept that everything I write is going to be read differently from this point on? It’s so weird because it’s so not me.
As I have said before, I started the tealou username when it was anonymous. I built this following over time, and its weird because it has now become fused with my “real name” and people truly expect you to be exactly who you say you are. What a bizarre shift… that Facebook caused… to the point where most people now expect on some level, you to be yourself. But the Téa you see is the Téa that has to adopt this mask in order to even leave the house. The Téa that you meet is overly friendly, and even flirty, because I find it so unbelievable that anyone would like me, I try my hardest and smile & laugh… because that’s what “confident” people do, right?
It’s so bizarre. I haven’t yet figured it out. Part of me wants to kill the @tealou persona, but then, I have an audience and it has led me to so many wonderful people… people I would never have connected with if not for that. But how do I get to have both authenticity and interest? Because frankly, without the swearing & snark, I am actually kind of dull. It’s a hard one, huh?
natachasuttor: So...15 August draw? I didn't win it, obviously....
em: I guess this means hubby and I are solemates after all...
grungerockchick: Oh LOVE. Love love LOVE. This is SO ME. I've also had this lesson r...
tealou: Thank you for commenting, Monnie. That's what I meant. I wasn't trying...
tealou: Yay Kath! :) Hi :)...
