|
Lucia's Breakdowns 201: Welcome to a New Series
Hi, dear readers. It has been quite a while, hasn’t it? Well, quite a while since a new entry, at least. Maybe you read my previous entry just moments before reading this entry. Who knows?
I want to update you all on my life. More specifically, I wanted to write about my ride on a certain train. I wanted to share my journey with y’all while it was happening, but that train has come and gone and I’m somewhere new now.
Some things have changed in the last two years. I’ve graduated university and my next few steps aren’t as clear as they used to be. I... haven’t applied for post-graduate studies, despite the recommendations of my dearest professors. This is a decent segue into what I really want to rant about for this entry, actually.
University has been quite a ride, dear readers. I’d like to think that I’ve grown up quite a bit, but in the end, I’m still me. That’s not a bad thing, though. At least, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. What am I even saying?
With the ongoing pandemic, I... haven’t been heavily impacted. Having just completed my fourth and final year in university, and having not applied for further studies, I would have had a lot of time on my hands regardless of complying to social distancing guidelines. I don’t know why I haven’t written anything since the first day this weird situation began! But, I’m here now, and so are you, so… thanks.
For reading. As always.
I just recovered from a breakdown.
Ever since my first year in university passed, I’ve been doing quite well, academically. As someone who derives a lot of self-worth from my academic performance, I’d like to think I was in a better headspace for a bit. However, two semesters ago, I messed up in a certain course and my mistake was certainly reflected in the grade... “It wasn’t even that bad,” is what I want to believe, but deep down, I knew that grade had triggered a regression to the state I was in during first year.
It was around that time that applications to graduate studies were due, and I realised something that may have saved my life: I am simply not mentally stable enough to subject myself to the stress of graduate studies.
And that’s why I didn’t apply. Not because I couldn’t, but I am presently convinced that I shouldn’t.
So, dear readers, that brings us to the topic of this journal entry... sort of. I don’t actually want to discuss the deplorable state of my mental health, but I wanted to provide myself some therapy by writing about my breakdowns.
I have been having breakdowns for a number of years now. I used to only cry, but I think the breakdowns began when I was in grade 11. Back then, my breakdowns were a consequence of my learning being incompatible with my French teacher’s teaching. In grade 12, after No’C and I had, as I think I’ve worded in the past, “relinquished our intimacy,” the breakdowns came a lot more frequently.
(For more on No’C, explore my past entries. In short, he’s a wandering alien and I’m very fortunate to have crossed paths with him. He let me experience euphoria so much so that the sudden lack of him shot me into the darkest shadow that I had ever known. We’re friends now, and I attribute much of my character development to his involvement in my life. Man, it’s been a while since I tried to give a quick summary of a key figure in my life, haha.)
My breakdowns range quite a bit, as I’m sure is normal for anyone who suffers recurrent breakdowns. There are minor breakdowns, like the one I had about half an hour ago, and then there are major breakdowns, that typically cause more physical pain and last for a few hours.
In the beginning, I was… somewhat self-destructive during my breakdowns. I never cut myself but I did bleed. I would… dig my nails into my skin and drag my fingertips down. My right hand usually did the damage while my left hand, specifically the back of my left hand, took the damage. Who knows why I never thought about cutting with a knife. I guess maybe I just didn’t want to wash the dishes.
Or bear the scars.
I have attended piano lessons since the sixth grade, and so it was not as if I could merely conceal my damaged hands. Those aforementioned scratches on the back of my left hand… They were cat scratches to my piano teacher, and evidence of falling on pavement to my mum. White lies, right?
I have gained the strength to resist self-harm. I think the guilt of lying about the injuries played a role in that. I don’t like lying. It tastes bad.
Anyway, in my most recent (minor) breakdown (i.e. the one from about 45 minutes ago), I had a thought. It seems that regardless of the trigger, my breakdowns always converge at self-deprecation. It’s not that I hate myself. It’s more like... I often struggle to find reasons to love myself. I thought, “huh, that doesn’t sound healthy. Maybe I should talk to someone.”
But... I guess Root Beer (also a key figure in my life, held in less esteem than No’C) did have one prominent effect on me, and that was the development of a fear of opening up. What did he say, again? It’s tiring to deal with depressed people? Something along those lines.
So, no, it’s not easy for me to seek help when I’m having a breakdown. I don’t particularly want to be dependent on other people to rescue me from my breakdowns, either. What I really want is to reach a level of maturity where I can rescue myself through sheer thought! And what a grand superpower that would be. I would trade a limb for unfailing self-confidence.
I really do ramble a lot, don’t I?
Anyway, I figured that it’s the time to return to my original source of self-solace, and that is journalling. I’ve kept a lot of journals over the last few years. I seem to like to share my journals with another author, like a significant other, but I find my private journals are more liberating. I have one journal where I just convince myself not to die. Too much information? It’s actually a very wholesome journal and not at all a cause for concern.
You do trust me, don’t you?
The idea for this entry is to write about my breakdowns, and in turn limit the severity of future breakdowns. If I articulate my breakdowns here, maybe I can retain some rational thought during a breakdown. So! How shall I do this? Well, I was thinking maybe I should divide it up. It’s hard to recall all the elements of my breakdowns in one sitting, so maybe it would be wise to create a series out of this. Hm… What shall we call it, dear readers? Breakdowns 101? At my university, junior level courses begin at 200, so... Hm… Also, my breakdowns are my breakdowns, and another shadow host may experience breakdowns differently. By the time you’re reading this, I will have already decided on a title.
Let’s plan it out a bit together, shall we?
It’s getting kind of late so I think I’ll just identify possible subtopics to elaborate on at a later date.
In the days leading up to a breakdown, I experience very consistent signs. I’m not sure how to describe it yet (that’s for another entry!), but I’ve noticed it enough that I can identify it beforehand. I assume this indicates some physiological changes that may underlie my breakdowns. Oftentimes, I am just sad for no reason, and it’s frustrating to try to explain that.
Once I’m in this state where I’m anticipating a breakdown, I become hypersensitive to bad triggers. What I mean by that is, something very trivial can provoke a cascade of bad memories to resurface. I’ll talk about possible triggers in a future entry, I think, more so for my friends and family than for me. Unfortunately, once I receive a bad trigger, I enter the primary stages of a breakdown before being able to warn against reiterations of said trigger.
Then, when the floodgates are opened, I… simply wait for the breakdown to be over. Minor and major breakdowns play out differently and I can usually tell them apart based on the duration of the breakdown and the severity of the symptoms. Maybe I’ll dedicate an entry each to minor and major breakdowns.
During a breakdown, I have learned to do some things to calm myself down. For example, I used to open the window during a breakdown for the cool outside air. Now I keep my window open all year round, but really bad breakdowns are still best dealt with in winter. There are also some tests I do to assess my state of mind. For example, I am genuinely afraid of the dark, but during a breakdown, my fears dissipate into a numbness. If I turn off my night lamp and I don’t immediately feel inclined to turn it back on, then I know that I’m experiencing a breakdown and can deal with it accordingly. I’ll compile a list of breakdown remedies in a future entry.
I think with that, I’ve planned out what to include in this journal series:
- the days leading up to a breakdown
- bad triggers
- minor breakdowns
- major breakdowns
- breakdown countermeasures
I think I heard birds chirping a jiffy ago. What worms are these early birds even getting? Anyway, thank you for reading my rants. I hope you tune in next time for more therapeutic (for me) entries. Until then, I must bid you a good night and a slumber full of sweet dreams. yum_puddi
|
