Scheduling a Meltdown

A few years ago I was a freshman in college. Life is kinda scary as you finish freshman year: you begin to realize how fast time (mostly college) goes, how little you have figured out in your life, and much you need to get done in the next 3ish years. I remember sitting in my first psychology class, discussing mental health and being very worked up about everything in my life. I planned to go home that night and I wanted ice cream from a local shop. I was going to have a meltdown and then go have ice cream. I told my friend Hannah in the class, "I'm going to go home tonight and have a meltdown and then I'm going to Whippy Dip to make myself feel better." The mental health nut in me now realizes that sounds like a disordered eating issue that I can eat my feelings. I still do that sometimes. Ice cream to celebrate, ice cream after a funeral, whatever.

For the record, I went home that night back in college, had my meltdown, got my ice cream, and went on with my life. It was a therapeutic event. It solved my problems that day. I had a scheduled a meltdown in my life and carried through on it. The ice cream was my coping mechanism. I had found a way to feel better. Sure, it was not a calorically good choice, but it was a temporary band aid. In the grand scheme of life, the meltdown wasn't over anything big. To tell you insignificant it was, I don't even remember why I was scheduling a meltdown in my life anyway. True meltdowns happen. And we can't control them. Sometimes I can tell a meltdown is coming and I induce it just to get it over with. I watch Cristina Yang's last scene from "Greys Anatomy" and I cry every time. I cry it out/dance it out and I feel better. I had found another coping mechanism. My coping mechanisms don't work anymore. I need new ones because these don't provide for me what they used to.

And that brings us to my current life. I'm working through a rough patch. My employment is not what I want it to be and honestly, most days feel like a failure. I am constantly tired and feeling dejected. Not enough to warrant a trip to a psychologist or therapist but I have a very real awareness of my lack of happiness. I have cried more in the last year than in my entire life and much more often than I would care to publicly admit. The worst part is you can't schedule a meltdown. Ever. They have a tendency to just happen and usually at an inopportune time. I used to have a series of disappointing meetings on Mondays that resulted in a cry fest on my couch every Monday night. It happened to work out that my fiancé was out of town every week I had one too. I would sit at home with no one to talk to and it left me too much time to think and wallow. It was weekly self destruction as my dog and I sat there trying to forget the world as we watched "The Bachelorette." My job was stressful: I wasn't eating and I wasn't sleeping. I lived this way for more than month. At some point I accepted that this job was not going to work for me. I was running ragged making phone calls and sending emails and attending events. The catch was I wasn't happy and I didn't know how to fix it. And had no income because I work on commission so I was also constantly worried about my finances. I was mad and sad and angry and disappointed and ungrateful and upset. All at once and all the time.

I was (and some days still am) on the verge of what felt like an emotional breakdown nearly every hour. The worst part was most people didn't know. I walked around like a glass doll, fearful of someone knocking me off my poised position on the shelf. I was cautious and withdrawn and uncertain. I thought if I just kept quiet about my struggles I could protect myself from the impending hurt. If I stayed put on my shelf, my glass face couldn't be broken. It would stay painted and intact. I felt perched on a branch, watching my own life unfold before me and fold in itself everyday. It was and still is heartbreaking. Having a daily meltdown didn't solve my problem; neither did ice cream or dancing.

I am at the point of emotional exhaustion. I'm trapped in my own life with little certainty of what to do next. My former stress relievers of choice might work if I had a different mindset. I will revisit them at a later date when my mental emotional health is in a better place. My mental health is in shambles. The moral of the story is you can't schedule everything in life. I just made a to do list for the next few days leading up to Thanksgiving to make sure I get everything done. I got to the point I knew a meltdown would happen every day but it was too depressing to acknowledge it and put it on my daily to do list. The small optimist in me hoped it wouldn't happen every day so by not putting it down, I wasn't going to let it take over my hour or evening or week. But you can't schedule a meltdown. They just happen.

Last Lasts

My brother plays his last home football game this weekend. His final game ever is next Saturday. I had hoped to make it to one of them but the way schedules work out I just couldn't swing it. So naturally I thought I would blog about it. Not about missing the game, but about the last time you do things for the last time.

Many college athletes have already experienced their last competition in high school; some knew they were going to continue playing the sport in college and the "last game" wasn't really the last game. Seventeen and eighteen year olds move on from their final games much easier because the prospects of leaving home for college or work create more excitement; they bounce back by being young and dumb. There's something special about college athletes, particularly at the division III level. Their college athletics career is driven by something other than money. They do not get a free college education for their skills and abilities. Division III athletes play sports in college for a love of the game and competition. Nothing else compares to the love of an athlete and his or her sport. 

I was in the same position as my brother a few years ago. I was completing my last year of college, on the verge of full fledged adulthood, but also nervous for the real world. I was doing many college things for the fourth and final time and I had mixed feelings: excitement, sorrow, happiness, disappointment. I spent ten years running track. I think of all the workouts that tried to kill me and the long runs where I discovered my best friends. Looking back on my college experience, all my best friends and favorite memories come back to people on the track team, not necessarily the meets or individual races. And we will always be part of that team even though we graduated. The coolest part about being a runner is you are branded a runner for life. Heck, after college you can even go out and win money for races. It's great. As long as you have working legs and a desire to run you're a runner. Even after your legs stop working, you will always be a runner because the label never leaves.

But here's the kicker about football (<-- best pun I've written in a while, thank you): your final game is the very last time you will suit up and play. Very few people make it to the NFL but the vast majority of college football players are done playing at 21, 22, or 23. I can't imagine trying to get 22 friends together, plus the equipment and space to play a full game at age 30. The injuries would be tremendous! Everyone that played in the game wouldn't be able to walk for a week after the game because of pulled muscles and trying to prove they "still got it," what "it" is: speed, strength, stamina, endurance. You end up jumping at the chance to play a flag football game, even though it is a poor substitute for the real thing--you are so desperate to get back into the game. But it's ok. It's human nature to gravitate towards the things we love. Go play in the first flag football game you can and every one after that.

There are a few perks to being done with a sport. You have your life back during the season you used to compete. I was at a loss of what to do with all my free time the first spring I wasn't running. I was accustomed to hours of practice followed by hours of studying in the library after. With no after work commitments I thoroughly enjoyed the spring weather. And my legs didn't hurt; I had not idea what it was like to wake up everyday in March and April and not have to give my shins a pep talk because of perpetual shin splints. You too will wake up mostly pain free when your sport ceases. During football season you will have the opportunity to watch every college and professional game available. Do it. Watch them all. Because you can and because you earned it. You sacrificed 4 or 5 years of summer into fall Saturdays not watching your favorite teams. You only saw the highlights and heard the synopsis from your classmates after the fact. Lay on your couch for 24 hours and enjoy the freedom. It will make you miss the game more. You might be a little lost and heartbroken but you will heal. We all do.

~~~~~

Good luck. With everything. With every last last. You will relish in some final lasts: your last class, your last caf meal, your last paper, your last reading. And others will cause some anguish: your last concert, your last workout, your last group meeting, your last practice, your last game. The last time you hang out with your friends as students and not as alums. Trust me, that one is scary. But you'll be ok. Life is glorious and you're just getting started. Thirty or forty years from now you might not remember every game or even the big plays of major upsets. You will remember the people who were there and celebrated with you, win or lose. These were likely the first friends you made in college. The ones that taught you how to do laundry and how to hack a microwave meal. They remember your college experience almost as well as you do and maybe for some nights, better than you do. They were an integral part of your college experience. Cherish it all. Every final hoorah is worth celebrating. So do it. Enjoy all your last lasts.