People ask, "Why?" and I feel the compulsion to provide them with an answer. Some sort of justification that will make sense in their minds...something that won't have me falling from graces, that doesn't make me weak and running. Nothing that comes out of my mouth ever does it justice. Like the vivid, vibrant landscape that catches your breath, the second you bring your camera to it...its realism...its stunning, crisp edges - disappear.
I can't do this anymore.
I've lost myself.
In Atlas of the Heart, Brené talks about the difference between stress and overwhelm. Stress can be addressed by taking deliberate steps - you may still need outside help - but you are able to approach it methodically and attack it with your own mind. Overwhelm, on the other hand, unfolds in a way that is utterly unfathomable.
There is a cheese wheel race that takes place on Cooper's Hill in Gloucestershire, England. People start at the top of this extremely steep hill, standing at the starting line along with this wheel of cheese. The whole point is to beat the wheel of cheese to the bottom - which no one does - but the winner is the one who gets to the bottom first.
Watch this race.
This is overwhelm.
They run a race that from the outset seems utterly ridiculous. Though, the people aren't actually running. Not really. Their bodies are catapulting down the hillside being pulled by speed and gravity that they can't command. Their feet may start firmly underneath them, but rapidly everything becomes out of control. Their bodies are no longer their own.
Flipping, flailing, smashing into the earth. They strain and stretch to return their feet to the ground but this is a pointless attempt. Each flip and turn results in cuts, bruises, and even dislocated limbs - leaving every single participate a battered, fucked-up mess by the end.
This.
This is how I feel.
I cannot get my feet underneath me. I'm running a race I don't want to be in...one that has lost its meaning to me. I'm completely beaten down and the hill seems to extend on forever. It is all unfolding far too fast for me to gain my bearings. I no longer see a beautiful, expansive hill with the promise of fun, but instead the dark, treacherous landscape that it actually is.
I need out.
But... it feels like a failure.
Another feat that I have managed to lose yet again. Failing to measure up; to have the resilience, mental strength, and "thick skin" enough to tolerate the abuse.
Is this what this is?
Finding myself in another environment that claims to love and need me but treats me like shit. How does one not internalize the abuse?
I don't understand the people who don't feel. All I do is feel. Emotions pulse through me like a digital motherboard. The only way to make them stop is to flip a switch and turn everything off.
This is no way to live either.
I have to get my feet under me again. I have to tend to the cuts and the bruises. I have to disregard the words, the whispers, the thoughts of others. They do not know and they do not matter. They are not on the hill. They are not in my body.
I matter.
I am worth saving.
I am worth pulling out of the race.
I do not need to run it.
I do not need to die by it.
I do not need to justify my exit...to anyone.
So where does this leave me? What do I say when people ask why?
It's time.
It's time to change. It's time to reassess and rework the setup. No more stupid wheel of cheese. Maybe a flat landscape this time.
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