This last week I have been more broken, if that’s possible, than I have been for quite a while.
The weight of not having my angel here, the decisions I’ve had to make, the game face I’ve had to wear, has just been too much.
I stayed in bed for most of three days. I found excuses, I shed tears, I pitied myself, for three straight days.
My job gave me permission to have this minor meltdown. They allowed me the time to grieve, to escape, to be away. And, as much as they could, they understood and accepted my need for space.
My sweet girlfriends, as always, encouraged my meltdown. They said it’s such a tiny span of time considering all the times I have gotten up, gotten out, and been ‘ok’ since suffering the worst day of my life.
I gave myself permission to shut down.
But as it happens every time, I’m left with guilt. I can’t afford to not be reliable and dependable at work, at home, and in my relationships.
Sure, I could shut down for good. But my life, as empty as it feels sometimes, is so full. And I would never want my failures, my incapacities, my fears to lead to more ruin.
But sometimes I just need that validation. That permission, from someone, anyone, to say, ‘your circumstances are difficult, and impossible. And if you want to close yourself off from life for a little bit, it is ok. It is understandable and it is ok.’
Because I have a very hard time giving myself that permission. I fear that even more heartbreak is just around the corner. And I cannot afford to be weak. Even if it’s only a few days.