Step on a Crack...

So..........I've had a few breakdowns this month.
None of them were pretty, although the most recent one was pretty interesting.

After the first one, I got together with someone who had witnessed it so I could explain my breaking down.  (Unfortunately, I don't think they've quite been able to wrap their head around the fact that this might not be a one-time thing.)  Pretty sure there's still a disconnect, since within 15 minutes of my explanation, they told me they saw me as the "backbone" of a currently disunified bunch of folks.  No wonder we're such a crumbly bunch:  I'm the so-called backbone, and I'm all but broken. 

The most recent breakdown was triggered when someone asked me to do move some paper clips* when I already had to bounce a ball*.  Now, one of the symptoms that ocurrs with my case of SAD is things compound quickly.  In August, I had no problem moving paper clips, bouncing a ball and taking out the trash*.  But now, I felt I barely had the energy to bounce the ball before I was even asked to move the paper clips.

I started crying because I was feeling cyclic feelings of frustration, guilt, and inadequacy.  When this happens, my mind does it's best to get off that track, but often gets on one just as bumpy.  This time was no different.  I went back to the concept of what a sad joke it was that I would be considered the backbone of anything.  It's a lot of pressure.  It certainly doesn't help that it's currently easier for me to see my failings, which makes me wonder how badly everyone else is failing if I'm the successful one.  Or, maybe I'm just better at hiding my struggles, which I don't want to be because hiding my emotions makes me feel dishonest.
These are the kind of cyclic feelings of frustration, guilt, and inadequacy I was talking about.

Anyway, what I found most interesting about this particular breakdown is that my emotional self and my physical self were almost completely separated.  While sobbing and wailing, I managed to shower and get dressed despite my wardrobe being blurred by my tears.  This was something I noticed while in the midst of said breakdown, and I tried desperately to laugh at the juxtaposition, but, alas, a body cannot laugh and wail at the same time.

However, one of the benefits of not having your head screwed on straight is that it's easier to see whether you've sat in wet paint.


*-these tasks have been dramatized