Crying

Today was a rough day. Yesterday was a rough day. Monday and Tuesday were rough days.

Oy.

For the past six weeks, I was focused on one part of my personal life, and this week there was a break through were things are looking up. There are a few minor set backs, but overall it looks good. This area had demanded a lot of my attention, and everything else was shoved to the back burner. Think of cooking a meal, let's say shrimp and rice. Shrimp are hard to cook because they need to be cooked all the way through so they aren't raw, but nor much more so or else they get rubbery. I was really focused on not overcooking the shrimp. Once I felt confident the shrimp was right, I checked the rice and it was a mess.

Today I cried about the rice. I cried and cried and cried. I probably cried about my worry about the shrimp, too. I talked to Ellen. I talked to my dad. I talked to other friends. And I cried. Before I cried, I had been really anxious and jittery and unable to focus on anything else. The weird thing is I used to live like that. All of the time. I was talking to a friend in my recovery program about anxiety attacks, where you just get spun up. I can't say that I've specifically had panic attack in my life before, but I could relate to her experience.

"I used to think that living like that was normal," I said.

Now I realize it wasn't normal, or at least I was tired of living that way.

When we get in ruts like that, it is easy to think that crazy is normal because we are used to it, and we don't know how to change, how to get better.

The first I needed to do was cry. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to rant and pace and be anxious, but I didn't want to cry. I couldn't hold it back any longer.

When I was done crying, I felt so much better. I was crying about cooking the shrimp and cooking the rice.

When I talked to my dad about crying, he said it doesn't solve the problem and it isn't a solution, but it clears the path so you can find you way out.

Amen.