bottle rocket

Published on 6 April 2024 at 00:04

July 2023

A commonly told story in my family is one where I had four cupcakes, I had planned to have one each day when I finished finals, counted out and perfectly planned.  Then, Ellie came home and asked  if she could have one.   I had a complete and utter break down, distraught that she even had the audacity to ask.  I cried and cried for hours, you would have thought someone near and dear to me had died. And yet, it was over a cupcake.  In reality, it was the last day of my junior year of high school and I had emotions from that entire year that I had shoved down and not acknowledged, and then there I was, in hysterics, over a cupcake.


I can also vividly remember that every single travel volleyball tournament I had, like clockwork, I would have a meltdown on the last day.  The lack of sleep, the increasing pressure, and all the emotions from the weekend would come out in a heaving sob.


I recently was told a story of when my mom, sisters, and I went on a girls trip to New York City with some of our other family and friends; I don't know the exact details but I broke into a meltdown when two people were going to do their own thing because I felt bad that they weren't hanging out with us.  In reality, that was at the end of my sophomore year of high school after I had just been kicked out of my friend group, raw on getting left out, and I didn't want anyone else to feel that way.  


With me, it's always about the straw that broke the camel's back. The last twitch that will shoot off the bottle rocket.  


The last time I remember the rocket shooting off was in September.  I called my parents both with heaving sobs, telling them I hadn't belly laughed since I had gotten to school, that I missed the West, and that I had made a grave mistake going back to school.  I spent the entire day in my bed crying, there was nothing else I could seem to do. 


It always upset me when people would make comments saying that I had no emotion, or that I always seemed to be happy.  Couldn't they see? My mind could never ever shut off.  All I ever do is think, think again, and then find another thing in my life to overthink.  But, the only time I truly let those thoughts and feelings come to fruition is in my big meltdowns, and only few, if any, are there to see those.  


Today, Carly came home after a bad day and we were talking it out, and I had a bad day too, but I could never bring myself to admit it.  To say out loud that I was sad or unhappy or frustrated in a way that doesn't come off as a joke or more than surface level, seems near impossible.  I nodded along and listened to her day, admiring the ability she had to be able to cry and process her emotions as they came, not shy to share what she was feeling, when she was feeling it.  


My natural response is often to journal my feelings, and though that's better than nothing, it still isn't letting the people around me know when or why I am feeling what I am feeling.  And as someone who says that mind reading is out and expecting people to know what you want without saying it is one of the worst things, that is exactly what I do. Until one day there is something that breaks my back, I have a total meltdown for however long I need, and then the cycle repeats itself.


I wonder if it is because I feel that my emotions are invalid.  That I don't deserve to feel how I feel, or it's embarrassing, or other people won't understand.  None of which is true - but I can't seem to kick the thought no matter how hard I try.  All I want is to be able to cry, and feel my feelings on the daily, not just have the thought of them, but not truly feel them.  I've always blamed it on medicine or depression or anxiety, but I'm starting to think that maybe it is a deeper rooted feeling than that.  Only time will tell I guess, I really need to get a therapist.  

Me with a great bottle (hold the rocket please)

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