There’s a picture of me as a child. I’m about 3 or 4 years old, ponytail askew and hair disheveled. The moment captured on a classic 80s Kodiak print from the local drug store or print shop. My family and I laugh about it now, but in that moment I was terrified. I was angry. I was fighting a grown man and trying desperately to protect my mother. The back story is that we were at church camp and this man was playfully trying to crack a raw egg on my mom’s head. She was screaming in a playful protest, but with my child perception she was in distress and that was unacceptable.
Fast forward 30+ years and with one single phone call I’m that scared little girl again. But this time the man is an oncologist. The egg is a brain tumor. And I want to fight as I did as a child. But I don’t know how. My brain is white noise and my arms are flailing, punching into the air. Hitting nothing but my own grief, fear, worry. Pain that can’t be numbed. Grief that can’t be comforted despite everyone’s best attempts. I’m being sling-shot against my will into a new realm of growth and maturity.
These are the moments where everything you’ve practiced and prepared for in your healing journey to this point test you. I have my tool box of coping skills ready, I have my support group, I’m eating right, sleeping well, taking my medications, prioritizing my self-care…I’m doing everything by the book. Will it keep me from falling apart emotionally? Maybe…maybe not. Maybe the whole point of events like this is to fall apart. To have an authentic, unscripted human experience. Grieve. Cry. Scream. Emote it all out until the feelings are released. We aren’t meant to be emotionless robots, Stepford bots who don’t have the whole gambit of human emotions. Fall apart if you must, and then piece by piece reassemble yourself. Take a shower. Eat. Drink water. Take deep breaths. Distract yourself. Laugh.
Too many times we don’t give ourselves permission to have the meltdown we need or to show our vulnerability. We believe strength equates a stiff upper lip and pretending that nothing is wrong. We hold ourselves together with trembling arms until fatigue sets in and we drop to the floor. One way or another it will come out. It’s our choice whether we release it slowly like a controlled burn, or it rages suddenly like an uncontrolled forest fire devouring us.
Honestly, if someone would try to remind me to count to 10 or breathe during one of my meltdowns I would (and have) tell them to stick their coping skills where the sun doesn’t shine. Are they wrong to remind me? No. Do the coping skills help? Yes, that’s why we therapists teach and promote them. But, in the middle of a panic attack, meltdown, tantrum, whatever you want to call your experience, you’re simply focused on survival in the moment. Focused on finding a resolution for whatever triggered you.
There’s a few more layers to this, and we’ll get more in-depth as we go, but until then…find the appropriate place and time and surrender. Allow yourself to feel whatever you need to feel. Have a good cry, take a deep breath, and begin processing and coping with what happened.
Resources
If you need help processing here are some resources:
- Go to Psychology Today to find a therapist in your area https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists
- BetterHelp https://www.betterhelp.com/
- Crisis Hotline https://www.crisistextline.org/ or text HOME to 741741
- The Trevor Project https://www.thetrevorproject.org/
- Veterans Crisis Line https://www.veteranscrisisline.net/
- Military OneSource https://www.militaryonesource.mil/
Unbound Light 