The Break

I'm not exactly sure when it started; the need to be the strong one; the need to support everyone. I don't think I made the decision consciously. The earliest I remember the desire to stay strong showing itself was at my grandfather's funeral. I can remember telling myself not to cry. Big girls don't cry. I was five almost six.

In my twenty-eight years not many people have seen me cry. Yes it's true I did a lot of crying in elementary school but that's to be expected when you are the object of bullying. But after those years, not many have seen me completely break down. Tears of frustration are more likely to be seen. Even in the days following my father's passing I didn't cry much. The need to remain strong doesn't allow tears. Tears show weakness.

Since I graduated college I have been handed many stressors which normal people would not have handled without breaking down at least once. Through my master's program I dealt with being unemployed followed by a sick father. Life for me was hard. By the end of the program I had lost my father and I was working full time in a supervisory role in retail getting yelled at by everyone daily. I should have been a mess. I wasn't. I wouldn't allow myself to be that way.

Now a year and a half later, I am in a doctoral program. The stress of just the program is enough to cause dedicated people to buckle. I'm dedicated to this program. I have worked extremely hard to maintain and improve my GPA. I have done this through everything that has landed on my plate. Once again I have been dealt more stress. First it was not sleeping. After months of that I just resolved that four hours of sleep was all I needed. Once I reached that conclusion the worst thing possible occurred. My mother got sick and was put into long term care at the hospital.

Well let me back up a little. At the end of August, Mum broke her shoulder at work to the point where she needed surgery to put it back together. This was followed by a bad allergic reaction to the antibiotic that was used after the surgery. A couple weeks later she was diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. At the end of that week she was in the hospital unable to stand on her own and diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. Almost a month later she is walking but still in the hospital.

Through all of this it has fallen to me to continue to running the household. Everyone has been amazed at how I just jumped in and took care of everything. The comment is always, "I wish I had a kid like that."  Every time someone says it, I hear it as, "I wish I had a kid who doesn't have a life of their own like you." I am a full time doctoral student, as a result I lost the ability to have a life when I took on the program. I also work full time on second shift. There is no time to have a life. My mother has been teasing me about it for sometime now. So no I had nothing to give up when all this happened. Or so I thought.

Last night I got notified that I essentially fail a class due to my submitting the wrong paper. It was the final straw. I found out when I was visiting Mum. I started to lose it but held myself together. I had worked so hard to get everything done for that class. It was going to be my first hard fought A in years. I was going to get off my academic watch. Everything was working out. I had it balanced; time was managed. But there's only so much stress one person can take. I reached my breaking point last night.

The drive home was surreal. But I was comforted by a texted conversation with a close friend. Yes I will admit it, I was texting and driving but it was better than the rage I experienced later which was kept at bay by the texts. My friend fell asleep on me by the time I got home. I didn't know it but it felt like I lost my lifeline. I couldn't get in touch with anyone else and I fell apart completely. Going from blinding rage to deep sadness and depression. At a couple points I was happy but that never lasted long. I took frustration out on a poor pint of ice cream. I'm surprised I didn't break anything. Last night was officially the lowest and most alone I have ever felt. Four hours of the emotional roller coaster resulted in a shaken, banged up, tearful Meghan. After a few hours of crazy angry me talking to my friend, I was feeling more normal again.

This morning I am still a mess with a million things to do. I will not put on a happy face. I will not discuss this with anyone but I will let the tears come when they want to. I deserve to be broken right now. If it finally gets someone to support me for once excellent. If it pushes everyone away, they weren't worth my time anyway. I need to look after myself first. After almost 28 years of looking after everyone else I am entitled to it.

Also as a point of fact that everyone missed. I don't clean voluntarily. I clean when I'm upset. The level of cleaning is proportional to how upset I am. I cleaned the whole first floor this weekend and even cleaned the carpets. If that's not a large neon sign saying I'm having problems with somethin I don't know what is.