Anatomy of an Emotional Freak Out
We’re all in this together, yet I felt so alone.
This is not normal, but I should be ok.
I’m not ok, but I will be.
What is going on? We should have expected this. We should have a plan.
There’s no plan, I’m on my own, but I have a community.
These thoughts make no sense and are mostly opposite each other, yet all are true. I am unable to find a semblance of control or order in my life, and it is tearing me apart. I have been torn apart. I am not handling thing very well. Wait, wait, I need to be the one to handle everything, that’s what I do. I handle it. I fix it. I keep my shit together or I get the fuck out.
I cannot get out this time. I do not have control. It's fucking with me.
All I can do is run. That’s all I can control. I can run. Run. For the only reason that matters, the reason I started and the reason I continue. I need it to survive right now. I need it to give me a hold on my emotions, even if it’s only for the time I’m out there.
But that’s not all I can do, and that’s what I learned once again on Friday, the day I lost my shit.
I had a bad day on Friday, two days ago now. I recorded a podcast Thursday night, didn’t sleep and then emotionally exploded inside all day on Friday. I found myself in a void of helplessness, crisis and catastrophic thinking all day. I didn’t cry. I should have, but I didn’t. Maybe crying would have helped.
More news, full New York State shut in. No response from the unemployment office. Website crashing. Nothing I could do. Not scheduled to work next week. No social interactions. A recipe for an Ellie disaster.
I made a joke about how I’ve been preparing for social distancing for the past 10 years. But that simply isn’t true even if I love alone time and need it to recharge. I am a social person. My job gives that to me. That is gone. My coworkers feel helpless. Things just aren’t the same and maybe they never will be. At least for the foreseeable future, which happens to be the only place my mind goes.
Immediate gratification, immediate fixing, for someone who thrives in the process, in enduring and taking time to make things work, I certainly haven’t been believing in that recently. I know things will get better, but I couldn’t see beyond the next few days. I felt like I was already in poverty and on the street. I used to be poor, and I will never forget it. In the same way I’ll never forget being the “fat kid” in elementary school, I’ll never forget how it felt to be poor. How it felt to live paycheck to paycheck, how it felt to always have bills.
It’s terrifying, and amplified in the current state of affairs. I went overboard in my mind. Swinging from those thoughts to thoughts about other people who have it worse. Feeling pain for them, feeling elitist about my own situation and guilty. How dare I think about myself? How dare I feel anything less than thankful I am not poor right now and will survive?
I was adding all the right ingredients to the emotional freak out cake. I’d win the Great British Baking Show with this masterpiece.
Sitting with these feelings is so hard. Their irrational and amplified yes, but they’re mine. I know I have to feel them, to feel it all. Because it gets better. It got better.
I phoned my friend Laura, and we talked. I realized I need to make FaceTime with friends a priority right now, because I’ve got no social life. I need to see people, see them moving, even through a phone or 6 feet away. Alone in a room with feelings is a ticking time bomb. I blew, and now I can see through the smoke and rubble.
I will be ok. I have friends and community. These are my resources, and all I have to do is use them. I’ll keep phoning the unemployment office and refreshing the website until I get through. This is what I can control right now.
Yesterday was a bit better and today even better. One day at a time, I’ll keep moving forward.
Together, we’re all in this together.
